The Theory of the Fuckable

We are what we project. There’s nothing sexier than a person who knows that is beautiful.
But, how do we know if we are beautiful enough? What is enough and why do we keep asking this to a “People” magazine?
There are few parameters that influence us before getting angry with our genes and pushing our asses into a Crossfit Gymnasium.
And I do want to talk about one particular –meter, the one that I’ve just decided to name

“Fuckmeter”.

We all have been there, watching at a few people in the metro thinking “I’d do you” and you might not realised until the second or third day what you’ve been doing, but you question yourself:
Why am I this horny? Bingo.
Last time you had a decent sexual encounter was a long while ago. You frown and keep the thought as far as you can.
A few days later after a shower, you check what you are seeing in the mirror and you make a statement:
This shouldn’t be here. This is why.
From the moment you decide that you are unfuckable you kind of become unfuckable for everyone else.
You immerse in this small sadness hole:
There is no point in going to the gym, cause anyway is not worth it and we all are going to die, plus, you could save that money or spend it at Five Guys.
You stop trying to flirt or even look at people with any desire at all.
You have lost the willing and now you’re spreading the
{Unfuckable Vibes}
Like you stop smiling and stop answering the always-very-polite “How are you?” You have even get rid of Tinder cause just can’t be bothered. You chose a nihilistic path in life.
Weeks pass by with you being unlaid. Your friends confess you that you look despicable and they trick you by saying they’re taking you to the late cinema, instead they get you into a night-club and make you choke three tequila shots and one mojito.
Now Queen is being played and you can’t help yourself but dance. You’re dancing like an eccentric idiot, the eccentric idiot that everyone loves. You are having fun, you are the fun.
Next Monday while you’re buying coffee the waitress kindly blinks at you.
-Hell yeah baby-
And you cross your workplace door with a smile and seriously ask the receptionist:
-How you doing love?
-Fine, you?
-Very good.
-Thanks for asking darling.
Caring is the new black.
Its Thursday and you have an after office which, you actually feel like going.
After a few drinks, everyone starts dancing, and so do you.
While moving gracefully your crush takes you by the waist and you don’t hide your tummy and enjoy because your good-damn Ryan Gosling just knocked on the door.
On the way back you two share an Uber, kiss on the corner of your lips.

You own this.

Next morning you ask for a coffee and before you leave, you glance at the same waitress and point at a napkin which has your number written down. Four hours later you have a date.
Once again, after your shower, you look yourself into the mirror. There’s so much more than a magazine cover. Like, you’re funny and a good dancer and your smile is the most fearless thing you’ve ever seen.
And as one of my favorites writer says: “So it goes”.
You have a great time and incredible sex, and yet, is not the end.
As well as unfuckable vibes bring an awful state of mind and isolation fuckable vibes bring you happiness, energy and if you’re wise enough, a lot of sex.
And I’m sorry, but still is not the end.
As you wouldn’t be unfuckable forever, you probably won’t be fuckable everyday.
Self-esteem is a rollercoaster. There many factors that led you to build a chip in your head that makes you believe what is fuckable, and you will have to fight it every once and then.
You will be stronger and beat it faster every time and in order to succeed in these points you need to have in mind two things:
First, your existence can make someone get slushy underwear and second, your butt is lovely.
So get the gloves out and be prepared to punch the standards in the face.

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