Being a personal trainer/bodybuilder and what a nudist beach taught me about male sexuality, shame, repression, and having a body that causes desire. Is it healthy or just an excuse for narcissism?
Reposting cuz I accidentally deleted this before. So some background on me: I’m a 32 year old, bisexual, personal trainer who generally likes to use Reddit to explore topics like self development, gym, sports, radical honesty, healthy masculinity, sexuality, and masturbation, with other well-intentioned men. I’m not a life coach or therapist, just a guy who finds these topics really interesting.
I’m into things like yoga and meditation, but the gym and training has always been the focal point of my life. I’ve been a trainer for 8 years, and been working out since i was 13. My dad was a professional italian bodybuilder, so I grew up literally all around that world. My mom is brazilian and their entire side of the family just has fucking dump trucks and also seemed to have good muscle building genetics. So I just look like an italian dude with a brazilian ass. Combine that with being a personal trainer now who wrestled all the time growing up, i think it just made for some weird proportions that i used to feel embarrassed about. But, as i got older, I started sexualizing muscles and found it pretty hot to dive into further. I realized that growing up around the competitive bodybuilding world, in the most hyper-masculine sports like wrestling too, that I was constantly internally wrestling with issues of masculinity, sexuality, and internal shame/lust in such homoerotic spaces. I found myself constantly surrounded by these men I admired, and lusted after, and who I also wanted to become like.
In short… this morphed into a kink for admiration and muscle worship, but at the same time, providing a safe space for good men to just be horny men without shame. I’ve realized over time that my body, muscles, pecs, and especially my ass, are insanely heavily sexualized by men in my life, and it always comes out in awkward ways. I’ve been sexualized enough that I’ve had underwear of mine stolen several times in my life.
Okay, so my story I wanted to share:
So… in my late 20s I lived near a nudist beach in California. I found myself going there on sunday mornings. I wanted a safe space to dip my toe into my admiration and exhibitionism kink. There was a quiet cove I’d go to regularly. I’d strip down, stretch, move slowly, take my time applying sunscreen. No theatrics or anything. Just fully naked and applying sunscreen for ages on my muscles, pecs, and ass.
Men started showing up and watching from a distance and jacking off. Then more. And suddenly every sunday there would be a little crowd of men who would know id be there on sunday just flexing and applyin sunsreen. I’m not gonna lie, it was a fucking power trip.
Sometimes I’d have a man come up and offer to apply sunscreen on my muscles and ass, and I’d let him. It would be amazing to see he was hard as steel, dick facing towards the sky and dripping with precum. Then when he was done, I would give his dick two quick tugs, almost like a goodbye handshake, and thank him. Then Id continue applying lotion to myself alone. I knew it was a tease just leaving with two tugs without him getting off, but I think I got off on the power I had over these men.
But I also r ealized a few other things. All types of men watched, but a a lot of these men that were most interesting to me psychologyically were the clearly closeted guys who I think came there secretly because they were hyper masculine presenting – maybe ex frat types or even gym bro types. They seemed to have desire mixed with a lot of shame and awkwardness. Which I think is a volatile combo.
What I find interesting is that men (especially these masculine closeted types) are not taught how to metabolize desire. Especially desire toward other men. Especially when it feels biological. Especially when it feels powerful. So instead, they they think arousal equals identity. They think masturbation equals moral failure. They think being turned on equals loss of control.
And instead of meeting that feeling with curiosity, most men met it with shame.vSome would avoid eye contact. Some would stare too long. Some would try to overcompensate with bravado. But underneath it was the same thing: embarrassment that they were aroused. So many of these closeted guys would be beating their meat watching me, and then once they came, seemed to be hit by the shame of their post nut clarity and rush away in a hurry.
This reminded me so much of myself growing up in such hyper masculine spaces with bodybuilding. But Ive learned masturbation isn’t the problem. The problem is secrecy fused with self-hatred.If a man goes home and takes care of himself thinking about a body or muscles or giant ass that triggered something in him, then that’s human. That’s physiology. That’s imagination. What destroys men is believing that act makes them weak, broken, or fraudulent. And of course, we need to make sure that the sexuality is expressed in healthy, responsible, and consensual ways.
I think these men need permission to feel it without collapsing. That you can admire another man’s body. You can fantasize. You can masturbate. None of that makes you less masculine. Beat your fucking dick like a man, bud!
But if you can’t look at your own arousal without disgust? That’s where the work is. Not gonna lie, its kinda hot to be that safe masculine container. I think its weird because yes, I do get off on the admiration, but also, its cool to provide that space.
Not sure where I was going with this post, but wanted to write all this down somewhere. I’m curious if what I’m doing sounds healthy or if I’m just using therapeutic language to make myself feel better about this narcissistic side of myself.