Go Ask Alex: I'm a gay Latino with a dad bod. Will fit guys ever want me?

Hi there! I'm a 45-year-old Latino gay male. I have a dad bod and have been trying to get in shape, but I'm not consistent, even though I try to work out as often as I can. The thing is, I live in a small, closeted town, and the nearest city is a two-hour drive, so it makes dating hard.

Every time I get on dating apps, I get hit on by heavy-set guys. And I'm not a chubby chaser at all. And I get criticized by the few gay friends I have that I shouldn't be picky and that I should be nice and give them a chance. But I don't want to do that.

Since coming out in my 20s, that's all that hits on me. For once, I would love for an attractive guy or a fit, toned guy to see me physically attractive (when I mean physically attractive, I'm talking Henry Cavill-level or Chris Evans).

Yes, I know this makes me shallow, but for once, I want something on my terms. Those guys I want to date don't want to date me; I don't even blip on their radar. But I would love for the universe to hear me out and give me a chance to date a physically attractive guy.

Am I being delusional here, or would I be able to make it happen?

Sincerely,

Shallow Love

Hey S.L.,

I don’t think “shallow” is the right word for what you’re describing, and I don’t think “delusional” is, either.

You’re being honest about what you want, something most people struggle to do. We all want to be desired by people we find beautiful, and we all want those people to want us back. You’re not delusional. You’re human.

But the fantasy you describe — the Henry Cavill, Chris Evans kind of beauty — is the product of a very specific system. Hollywood, advertising, and porn have sold us one narrow image of male desirability: tall, white, muscular, symmetrical, hair just right. That’s not a moral failing on your part, but it’s worth understanding how deep that conditioning runs. The men we’re told to desire are often white, wealthy, and built by access — personal trainers, money, surgery, steroids, lighting, filters. They aren’t just hot, they’re produced.

As a Latino man, you live in a system that still privileges whiteness and certain body types in gay spaces. The apps make it worse — they flatten us into torsos and reduce the messy, complicated world of human connection to a grid. When you say you only get hit on by heavy-set guys, remember that everyone involved in this — both you and these men — have been trained by culture to look for one thing and ignore the rest.

That said, attraction isn’t something you can bully yourself into changing. If bigger guys don’t turn you on, that’s fine — you don’t owe anyone sex. There’s nothing wrong with them and nothing wrong with you. Attraction just isn’t something we can choose.

But you can get curious about why certain kinds of men represent validation to you — why being wanted by a certain “type” feels like winning. Sometimes it’s not about lust; often it’s about wanting to feel valued in a hierarchy that glorifies the few and sidelines the rest.

You’re allowed to keep wanting what you want, but try to recognize that beauty is a system, not truth. When you see through it, something shifts. The world opens up. You start noticing people who are sexy for reasons that go beyond abs and jawlines: confidence, humor, tenderness, how they move, and how they make you feel.

If you want to increase your chances with fit, conventionally hot guys, do it. Lift, eat well, take care of yourself, and show up in spaces where those guys are. That’s what I did — what I do. But do it from a place of self-respect, not self-loathing. “Getting hotter” out of self-hate never works. Doing it because you want to feel strong and good in your body? That’s great. And that’s magnetic.

In 2013, shortly after my HIV diagnosis, I started going to the gym. I’ve been lifting seriously ever since. At first, I did it to take my mind off my diagnosis and to quiet the fear that I was sick and frail. I wasn’t — the medications were good then and are better now — but I needed to feel strong at a time when I thought my sex life and self-worth were over. The gym became a life raft.

That was my circumstance, but the need to feel strong and alive in your body applies to everyone. I no longer feel that way about my HIV, but the gym is still a life raft. Even with all the toxic fitness culture that exists — a culture I’ve no doubt participated in — it still makes me feel strong and grounded. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the attention my body gets now, but at the end of the day, it’s a ritual I need to manage my stress and keep myself sane. I can’t not recommend it. Everyone should find some kind of movement that makes them feel great. The mental benefits are too big to ignore.

Ten years ago, I thought getting fit would fix everything — loneliness, heartbreak, and the feeling that I wasn’t enough. It didn’t. It gave me better legs and a routine, but it didn’t change how I saw myself on the inside. That inner work happened with therapy and meditation, which I strongly encourage — for you, S.L., and for everyone.

What helped was realizing my body doesn’t have to be part of a beauty system — that it can simply be something I delight in. And that delight draws the right people — some of them very sexy — into my life. Fitness can be a way to honor yourself, not punish yourself. When I started training from that place, it made me more attractive to the people who mattered.

Remember: Some of the men you think wouldn’t want you certainly would — they just don’t know you yet. You’re not invisible. You’re just living in a small town with limited options and an algorithm that can’t see your worth.

That’s something you have to learn first. That’s the self-relationship — the self-dance — and when it’s good, it’s like finding the golden thread. Once you have it, the right ones come.

Hey there! I’m Alexander Cheves. I’m a sex writer and former sex worker—I worked in the business for over 12 years. You can read my sex-and-culture column Last Call in Out and my book My Love Is a Beast: Confessions, from Unbound Edition Press. But be warned: Kirkus Reviews says the book is "not for squeamish readers.”

In the past, I directed (ahem) adult videos and sold adult products. I have spoken about subjects like cruising, sexual health, and HIV at the International AIDS Conference, SXSW, the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, and elsewhere, and appeared on dozens of podcasts.

Here, I’m offering sex and relationship advice to Out’s readers. Send your question to askbeastly@gmail.com — it may get answered in a future post.