"Who Do I Want?" — A Gay Man’s Journey Through Desire, Identity & Real Connection

Let’s be real for a minute:“Who do I want?” is not as simple a question as it sounds—especially when you’re a gay man.

For a long time, I didn’t even feel like I was allowed to want. Not openly. Not honestly.  I wasn’t just figuring out who I was attracted to—I was untangling years of messages about what kind of love I was supposed to want, and which parts of myself I had to hide to get it.

When I first started dating, I chased a very specific type: hyper-masculine, emotionally unavailable, and usually, not all that kind. But they fit the image—the kind of guy I thought would make me feel validated. I wasn’t looking for someone who saw me—I was trying to be seen in a way that made me feel safe… or at least, accepted (or maybe even just desired - but that’s a different story!).  There was also a part of me that wanted to be seen and understood, whereas the truth is that I didn’t really understand and know myself so, I kept running into the same issue - short term validation.

It took me a while (and a few heartbreaks) to realize: chasing love that makes you shrink isn't love at all.  Somewhere along the way, I started asking a better question:

“Who helps me feel like the best version of myself?”“Who lets me be soft, weird, joyful, messy—and still wants to stay?”

The shift was subtle but powerful. I started to look for connection, not performance.  For resonance, not approval. I stopped trying to be “desirable” and started being me.

And you know what? That’s when real connection started showing up.

5 Things That Have Helped Me Along the Way:

1. I got honest about my patterns.

   I asked myself: Am I dating people who actually align with what I value—or just people who give me short-term validation?

   
   

2. I learned what safety feels like.

   Not butterflies. Not anxiety. But calm. Peace. The feeling that I could speak my mind and still be held with kindness.

   
   

3. I unfollowed the noise.

   My feed was full of perfect bodies and “ideal” couples. I started curating it to include more real, messy, joyful queer love.

   
   

4. I practiced saying what I want.

   Out loud. In therapy. In my journal. With friends. It’s vulnerable—but powerful. Desire becomes clearer when you name it.

   
   

5. I let things move slowly.

   No more rushing to impress. No more performing. Just two people figuring it out, one honest conversation at a time.

So yeah—"Who do I want?" is a big question. But it gets easier when you stop trying to be someone you’re not.

You deserve a love that sees all of you—not just the polished parts.And that kind of love? It starts when you believe you’re worth choosing—exactly as you are.