I ran 10 miles this morning, and I'm hungry for some meat. At first I was thinking of baby back ribs, but then I decided I'd rather have something that didn't fall off the bone.
This guy is the cover boy from this month's GENRE magazine. One of the things I love about GENRE is that you can easily go 10-20 pages without any photographic evidence that men wear shirts. Or pants for that matter. Lots of swimwear and undergarments, and there's not a thing wrong with that.
Let the haters hate (as is your wont), but I think this fella is damn near perfection. Is it the Routh-ian quality of the eyebrow? The suggestion of Middle Eastern descent? We're talking purely aesthetics of course. I'd have to age him twenty years to be my boyfriend.