Gay Men’s Field Guide: Beauty Standards, and where they're heading.

Today we look at gay beauty, where it is— and where it's going.

Hey there, it’s Upton Rand, your go-to gay guy with a sharp tongue, a nerdy streak, and a Lakewood edge that cuts through the bullshit. I’m back with an updated spin on gay male beauty standards for the Gay Men’s Field Guide—because who doesn’t want a funny, raw take on where we’ve been and where we’re headed? Let’s dive into the mess of it all—past, present, and a wild guess at the future—while keeping it real and hilarious. Buckle up, boys!

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Laundromat Real Talk: Folding Briefs

 and Talking Gay Beauty Standards

Picture this: me and my friend Brendan at the laundromat, knee-deep in boxer briefs and socks, when we stumble into a convo about gay beauty trends. It’s not your typical “who’s cute” chitchat—this is us unpacking what “hot” even means in our little corner of the world

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Back in the early 2000s, we were both suckers for that Abercrombie & Fitch fantasy: zero body hair, abs like a washboard, and a tan that screamed “I summer in the Hamptons.” Brendan was a rugby jock, I was a skinny runner, and we chased that look like it was our ticket to gay heaven. Spoiler: it wasn’t. I once tried waxing my chest at home and ended up redder than a lobster and twice as mad—lesson learned. The things we do for beauty right?

Then the mid-2000s hit, and bam—lumberjack season had arrived. Beards, fuzz, and a little cushion for the pushin’ were suddenly in. My smooth ass was out of luck! It was a wake-up call: queer identity shifts fast, and beauty standards? They’re a moving target.

My ex-husband—hot but a total dick—used to rave about my average build like it was gold. Weirdly, his messed-up compliments showed me beauty’s personal as hell. Who knew an asshole could accidentally drop wisdom?

Where we are now: beautiful bear of bods and inclusivity. 🌈 #BearBodsAndRainbows"

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My First Gay Label

Let’s rewind to 18-year-old me in rural Michigan—cows, corn, and zero gay bars. Twice a year, we’d hit these lodge dances near Marquette (name’s fuzzy—blame the alcohol in my 20s). One night, some dude calls me a “twink.” I’m thinking, “What, like the cream-filled kind?” Nope—young, slim, smooth. It blew my mind to hear there were all types of us homos. That’s when I clocked the gay subculture communities: twinks, bears, otters—it’s a whole damn zoo out there. My queer identity got a crash course, and I’ve been obsessed with these tribes ever since. (If I’d cashed in every “twink” comment back then, I’d own a lodge now.)

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Meanwhile Back in Laundry Land.....

Back at the laundromat, Brendan’s was playing historian with past gay beauty trends, but I’m like, “Screw that—I want to know what’s next!” I dug into social media—Twitter, Insta, all of it—tracking how we went from Abercrombie smooth to lumberjack rugged.

For the future, I leaned on some driven analytics (nerd alert) to find out what may be coming. Brendan’s is betting on a ‘50s muscle-man comeback—think beefy dudes with a modern twist. Me? I’m eyeing OnlyFans, where guys crank their LGBTQ style to max volume and fans eat it up. It’s a beauty buffet, and I’m loving the chaos.

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Wild Guesses: Neon Beards or Leather Everything?

Brendan name-dropped OnlyFans first—smartass—and it sparked some thoughts. LGBTQ style loves a retro remix, right? ‘80s shoulder pads turned into bomber jackets, so what’s beauty’s next throwback?

Picture this: ‘80s bears with neon-dyed beards or Bowie-level androgyny in leather. I’m rooting for electric blue pubes—I’m tempted to go buy some electric blue dye today ;-)The future’s wide for us though, and gay subcultures are steering the ship.

Where we may be going: Cyberpunk meets David Bowie with a dash of kink—futuristic streets, glam vibes, and a playful edge. 🌃✨🔗 #FutureFabulous

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Unleashing Grok: AI Meets My Beauty Obsession

Post-laundromat, I got antsy and called on my AI buddy Grok (Rex, because he’s extra). He sliced through the noise , sifted through the data, and got the real story. We analyzed Twitter, all of Twitter… Grok also had X posts on lock, so I told it: “Map gay beauty trends from ten years ago to now, then predict the future based on the natural continuation of them.” Grok nailed it—smooth Abercrombie ruled the ‘90s, then hairy naturals took over. It flagged new stuff too: fillers, Botox, even steroids. Brendan and I bickered over that last one—he’s anti, but I’ve seen it normalized. At 16, I was on Trenbolone (yes, the steroid they give cattle) and punched a wall over hold music. Teens, stay safe. lol

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The Future’s a Rainbow: Variance Rules

Here’s the juicy bit: beauty’s not shrinking—it’s exploding. Research shows gay subculture vibes are splitting into a million awesome directions. Bears own their hair and heft, goth gays flip off norms with androgyny—it’s all about queer identity your way. OnlyFans is the rocket fuel; creators flaunt their unique LGBTQ style, and fans stan hard. Social media’s the hype machine, turning every look into a community. The future? A spectrum where “hot” is whatever you say it is. PacSun might scoff at my 39-year-old ass, but I’m grabbing my vibe—maybe even dyeing something wild—and owning it.

I sifted the data so you can watch Ru Paul ya'll.

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The takeaway - do you!

Real talk: After all the waxing mishaps, steroid regrets, and ex-husband drama (good riddance), I’ve learned one thing: beauty’s a wild ride, and the only way to win is to make your own damn rules. So whether you’re rocking neon pubes or keeping it classic, just remember—your queer identity is your superpower. Own it, flaunt it, and let the world catch up- it’s beautiful if it’s you. And hey, if all else fails, juse go naked :-)

From Panic to Empowerment: Fixing My Overheated Car as a Gay Man - Gay DIY Car Repair

Watch the video above to see me, Upton Rand, take on my 2009 Toyota Corolla’s radiator disaster—saving $700 and proving anyone can fix their car with some YouTube grit. It’s got the whole saga: the coolant-soaked breakdown, the sweaty repair, and that sweet test drive victory. Below, I’ll break down how I went from panic to power, and why this matters for every gay guy who’s ever felt counted out.

It all started when my car felt off the second I turned the key. I’d barely gone a block before hearing this faint growling sound—nothing crazy, just… wrong. It was early April in northern Ohio, chilly enough that I craved some heat. But when I flipped on the heater, cold air blasted out. Weird as fuck, right? Then I glanced at the temperature gauge: the needle was screaming toward red.

I pulled over on the highway, heart pounding, and popped the hood. My Corolla had barfed neon-green coolant everywhere—like Santa’s elves had a diarrhea meltdown under there. Panic hit hard; I was maybe two seconds from a full-blown anxiety spiral. Looking back, I should’ve known trouble was brewing. For weeks, I’d caught this subtle, sweet coolant smell in the cabin, but like a dumbass, I shrugged it off.

I’ve always been a magnet for car drama. This 2009 Corolla—pretty much a fossil—has tested me plenty. I’m religious about roadside assistance, and trust me, it’s paid for itself 10 to 20 times over. Locked keys inside? Done it. Dead battery from leaving lights on? Guilty. Tows? Too many to count. So, standing there, coolant dripping, my gut said, Call roadside assistance.

But then came the kicker: Where do I tow it? Which mechanic? My brain spiraled—walk into a shop, and they’ll hear me talk or see me move and think, “This gay guy’s clueless—cha-ching.” If you’re reading this, you’ve probably felt that vibe too. It’s a shitty stereotype, but the fear of getting screwed over? Real as hell.

I filed the claim and froze my ass off for two hours waiting for the tow truck. About 90 minutes in, my friend Jim rolled up like a damn saint, handing me hot coffee that saved my soul for the last half-hour. He even drove me home. I’d left the house without a sweatshirt—stupid move, since my job cutting steel and grinding metal usually has me drenched in sweat. But there I was, shivering, staring at my broken-down car, hating how helpless I felt.

That’s when it clicked. Yeah, I didn’t grow up wrenching on cars. But I didn’t grow up knowing how to run a business either, and here I am doing that. Why not learn this? What’s the worst that could happen—besides blowing cash I don’t have? I’d messed with small repairs before, just YouTube basics. This looked rough—like big mechanic bill rough—but it was a shot to prove something. One more checkmark on my list of “stuff they say gay men can’t do, but I did.”

So, I dove in. I figured I wasn't going to break it- after all, it was already broke!! Lmao That began my Gay DIY Car repair adventure!

Looking tough as I do the repair LMAO

What Went Down

The video up top shows the whole grind, but here’s the quick version. I binged YouTube tutorials—probably 50 of ‘em—to figure out what a radiator even does. Spoiler: it keeps your car from cooking itself. Who knew? Not me.

I diagnosed a hole in the radiator and a sketchy thermostat. First step: drain the coolant. Total mess—neon-green puddles galore. Then I wrestled off a hose clamped on like it was welded. Pliers, sweat, and a lot of cursing later, I got it free. Slapping on a new hose felt like forcing a square peg into a round hole, but I made it happen. Next, I swapped the radiator—way heavier than it looks—and refilled the coolant, mixing it just right. Bleeding the system to clear air pockets was slow as hell, like watching paint dry with extra swearing. It was a gauntlet. Dropped tools, skinned knuckles, and enough cussing to clear the birds out of Ohio. But every win—bolts tightening, engine humming—felt like a fist bump from the universe. Check the video for the raw chaos and payoff.

The hole I finally discovered and repaired in my radiator. I still don't know how it happened.

The Payoff and Lessons Learned About Gay DIY Car Repair

When I took that test drive (you’ll see it at 4:47 in the video), I didn’t yell “I did it!” like some cheesy movie. I just sat there, engine purring, feeling this quiet awe. I’d tackled something gnarly, and damn, it hit deep. It wasn’t just about the car—it was knowing I could do this. For too long, I’d bought the lie that gay guys aren’t “handy.” Screw that. We can be fierce and fix shit, thank you very much.

So, what’s your “fix the car” moment? That thing you crushed despite the doubts? Drop it in the comments—I’m dying to hear. And take it from me: you’re tougher and more capable than you think.

Want more stories like this? Hit up gaymensfieldguide.com for weekly bilingual posts on living bold. Grab my books on our store. And if you’re pumped, share the video—it’s proof anyone can wrench with YouTube’s help. I guess my point is, don't be afraird, your cars already broke. You can do this, have faith in yourself. If you don't- have fait in youtube and AI at least. This is very achievable no matter what the repair.

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