DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I recently had an experience that’s left me rethinking some deep-rooted beliefs about myself and my attractiveness and I wanted to share it with you, because I suspect I’m not the only one who’s been trapped in this kind of thinking.
For most of my life, I’ve trained and lifted weights, but I’ve never had the “Instagram body.” I’m strong, yes but more on the heavy, husky side. I don’t eat like a fitness influencer; I eat more like a guy who hits the gym and then grabs Wendy’s or Burger King on the way home. As a result, I’ve always believed my body was inherently unattractive. My dating app results seem to confirm it — I don’t get matches on Tinder or Bumble. I’ve internalized this idea that women just aren’t into bodies like mine.
Then, something happened.
A few weeks ago, I had my first experience with MDMA. It was a warm night, and I was at a party. At some point, with the music and the energy and that overwhelming sense of connection and joy, I took my shirt off and started dancing something I never would’ve done sober. But in that moment, I felt confident. I wasn’t thinking about whether I looked good; I was just being.
And then… I noticed something strange. Women were looking at me. Not in that judgmental, “look at that sweaty, drugged-up guy” kind of way. It was different — their eyes held something more like interest. Maybe even desire.
That moment shook me. For so long, I’ve believed my body is unattractive by default that if I’m not lean, cut, and chiseled, I’m not desirable. But under the influence of MDMA, I saw a glimpse of what confidence could do. It made me wonder: Have I been sabotaging myself all these years with a stupid belief? Have I closed off possibilities for connection and attraction because I was so sure I couldn’t be wanted as I am?
I don’t want to pretend that MDMA gave me magical insight or that I now suddenly love my body unconditionally. But the experience cracked something open. I’m starting to realize that maybe attraction isn’t as rigid as I thought — and maybe the missing ingredient all along wasn’t a six-pack, but confidence, ease, and presence.
I’m still unpacking what all this means. But I guess I’m wondering: How do I hold onto that sense of self-acceptance and confidence without needing to be high to feel it? And how do I start trusting that maybe, just maybe, I am already attractive in ways I’ve been blind to?
Thanks for everything you do.
Sincerely,
Some dude from Brasil
DEAR SOME DUDE FROM BRASIL: Alright, I’m going to give folks a little behind-the-scenes about how I work. Usually, a letter like yours isn’t one I would pull for the top-line in the column. However, your experience has tapped into something I’ve talked about for a long, long time and I wanted to highlight it: attraction is far more in the mind than in the body.
One of the regular themes of letters I get are from people who feel that not having a “perfect” body – for varying definitions of “perfect”, but always “different from what I currently have” – renders them absolutely unf--kable. They don’t look like $INSERT_CELEBRITY_HERE and therefore no woman could possibly desire them or want to climb them like a tree. And even though hordes of women have sung the praises of Jack Black, waxed rhapsodic about Matt Berry or talked about wanting to lick frosting off Paul Hollywood, they have convinced themselves that only single digit body fat and dehydration-enhanced abs can be the path to sexual attraction.
But – much like the “if you aren’t 6’ tall, you don’t rate” – this flies in the face of, well, life. It doesn’t take much to refute the idea that only dudes who fit a certain mold of conventional hotness get laid. If you step away from the computer – especially when the loudest voices telling you that you’re an unf--kable homunculus are grievance-peddling, bobble-throated slapdicks posing as “masculinity influencers” – and set foot outside, you will see perfectly average guys with girlfriends. You will see chubby champions and short kings with women you might swear on a stack of bibles are out of their league, and yet those women clearly are counting down the minutes until they’re going to bang like a screen door in a hurricane. And much of what they have in common is that those men have confidence and assurance that comes with loving themselves.
That’s what you tapped into when you were rolling on molly, SDFB. You weren’t gifted with magic insight, and the drug didn’t transform you. What it did was turn off the part of your brain that said “you’re not good enough, nobody could like you” and for the first time, you were actually able to feel acceptance. You were able to feel love for yourself, in a way that was free from judgement, fear or care. The parts of you that kept telling you that you’re not good enough were quiet for the first time in God knows how long and you actually got to just be.
Small wonder that, for the first time, you felt like you saw women looking at you with desire. It wasn’t that MDMA magically made you sexy; it’s that for the first time you believed that you could be desired and you were able to see it in others. This is the other side of confirmation bias: you believed in your own desirability and so you could see evidence that it was true.
So, to answer your first question: yes, you have been closing yourself off to possibilities. It’s as I’ve said before and will say so again: you weren’t seeing them because you didn’t believe it was possible, and if you did see it, you would have any number of reasons to say that you were mistaken, that you were misreading things or that it was some sort of trip or trap. Even if someone were to walk up, kick your legs out from under you, pinned you to the ground and start to wiggle, you would have “reasons” why this couldn’t possibly be what it seemed to be.
The drugs didn’t create this super power in you. This is a case of Dumbo’s Magic Feather, where something allowed you to tap into a power that was within you all along. The trick now is to not mistake the tool for the power. It’s far, far too easy to think that you need the external assistance. Creating and reinforcing that association between “I get intoxicated > I feel great about myself” can create a psychological dependency and encourage an unhealthy relationship with drugs or alcohol.
In fact, the first step towards your goal is to recognize that while the drugs may have shown you what’s possible, they’re a crutch at best. It may have opened your eyes, but now that they’re open, it’s on youto ensure that you don’t close them again.
Instead, part of what you want is to make the effort to look at yourself with those loving eyes – remembering how you felt when you were dancing and ecstatic, what it was like to inhabit your body and to love it the way that you did, as you look at yourself while you’re sober. You want to recall and invoke those feelings and even speak them out loud while you look at yourself in the mirror. It feels goofy as hell at first – complimenting yourself or saying nice things about yourself and repeating affirmations to your reflection feels like some cringe Stuart Smiley bulls--t. But that feeling of cringe is precisely what you’re trying to push past; it’s the voice of your jerkbrain that’s been keeping you down all this time. You’ve felt what it was like when you couldn’t hear that snide, s--tty voice. Now it’s time for you to learn how to consciously turn it down and tune it out.
The next thing is that you need to treat yourself with love and care. How we see ourselves is a habit, and we reinforce it with how we behave and how we carry ourselves. Consider how often you beat yourself up for not having the perfect Fitnessgram body; the comment you made about getting a burger after your workout instead of eating “clean” is a prime example. You may have been meaning to illustrate a point, but it’s impossible not to hear the veiled contempt for your supposed weakness or failure to follow through. And that’s precisely part of the problem: your beating yourself up and talking yourself down for not being “perfect”. It’s not even a case of needing to forgive yourself for eating “poorly” or making bad choices; it’s a case of needing to not beat yourself up for eating food. A Whopper or Dave’s Double may not be the “ideal” post-workout meal, but that’s ok. You don’t need to be perfect, and berating yourself won’t help.
You can’t shame yourself into a better life; all that the bile and venom does is reinforce the idea that you’re an unlovable f--k-up. Even if it motivated you to have more lean protein and greens after a workout next time, it still comes with the undertone of self-hate. There’s still that stink of “F--king finally, you soft-bellied loser”, the sense that failure and a feckless future is all but inevitable if you don’t perform perfectly for the rest of time. And since nobody can do that, it means that the next time you “slip up”, you will toss it all to the winds because you clearly can’t do it.
Treating yourself with love and compassion, on the other hand, means that you encourage yourself to see yourself in the same terms. Positive self-talk and encouragement – not even “that’s right, champions eat like this” but “Dude, you’re great, you’re fueling yourself for awesomeness” – is more productive, it makes you more resilient and encourages you to see yourself in a bright, positive light – the way you did when you were rolling.
Treating yourself with love also means allowing yourself to feel good, to let your worries fall away and to not care about the supposed judgement of others. You want to remind yourself that you’re allowed to dance and lose yourself to the music, even if s--tty people think you should feel ashamed. You’re allowed to dress in ways that make you feel like a sexy bad-ass, even if those grievance peddlers would tell you that you shouldn’t or haven’t “earned the right” to wear those clothes. You’re allowed to feel desirable and desired, even when s--tty people tell you’re deluded for thinking it was even possible.
The thing is: it’s hard to do this. It takes practice to drown out those thoughts and to let yourself love yourself the way you want to. You’ve spent a lot of time telling yourself and letting other people tell you that there’s something flawed and unlovable about you and you’ve let it become a habit. Breaking a habit takes deliberate effort and reinforcement, and it’s easy to backslide. But you’ve already seen that it’s possible. You’ve felt it, and you know for a fact that it’s inside you. So now, you’re going to put in the same level of effort and will that you’ve put towards things like building your physical strength. The only difference is that you’re building emotional strength.
So I want you to ask yourself: are you a bad enough dude to love yourself? Because if the answer is yes, then no matter how many blows you take, no matter how many times people leap out of the bushes to try to strike you down, you can power through. You can ignore those voices and turn up the volume on the parts of you that you felt when you were dancing and free. And if you stumble and those negative nutsacks and gibbering mouthers get the best of you momentarily? You have the strength to pick yourself back up and keep at it. It’s a setback, not a failure. You remind yourself that just because you got knocked down, you can get back up again and keep going. You’ll start realizing that you’re getting up faster each time and getting taken down less and less often. And you’ll realize that it’s much, much easier to let go and connect with that joy and love for yourself… which will make it that much easier to connect with the love and attraction others have for you.
Good luck.
Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com