I recently joined the rest of America in watching, and inevitably loving, Queer Eye. For those who haven’t tuned in, it’s a reality series in which five gay men revamp people who could use a little love. From fashion to interior design, participants undergo an inspiring metamorphosis, emerging on the other side a more confident, yassss kween gorgeous version of themselves. It is fun, deep, heartwarming, and educational. Typically set in rural Georgia, the show explores the complex relationships between the LGBTQ community and the south, hetero culture, and christianity, finding common ground through meaningful shared experiences.
Each member of the Fab Five brings a unique energy and expertise that makes the magic of the whole exponentially greater than the sum of it’s already-wondrous parts. Jonathan handles grooming, transforming participants through the power of hair and skincare. Bobby is an interior designer who creates magazine-worthy living spaces from cluttered, dated homes. Karamo manages culture, digging through the emotional webs of participants’ lives to find what’s holding them back. Tan is a stylist with the remarkable ability to dress anyone to their body in chic, accessible clothing.
And then there’s Antoni.
Antoni is the culinary guide and the newfound object of my affection. While his contributions to the show are considerably less impactful than those of the others (making a bomb guac isn’t exactly life-changing, though a useful supplement), there’s something special about his presence. The more I watch, the deeper my heart sinks knowing this love will be forever unrequited. Observing him perform tasks as innocent as feeling for avocado texture at the grocery store surges my most primal hormones to curious new heights. I even went as far as requesting a ménage à trois with him and his partner over Instagram story, because sometimes when you’re in love, you’ll settle for sharing.
This is unusual for me. I don’t really develop celebrity crushes, but I’d think one of my only would at least like women for an air of imaginary potential. Nonetheless, *Carrie Bradshaw voice* I couldn’t help but wonder what it was about him that made my eyes so googly. You know, aside from the fact that he looks like this:
Upon reflection, I have concluded that I have a soft spot for soft men. Antoni exhibits this graceful tenderness that pulls at my heartstrings. His voice is like balm and his mannerisms are gentler than a summer breeze. There’s still an expectation that straight women gravitate toward masculinity—athletes, muscles, heroes, tough guys. But that is simply not my dating M.O. I crave a balanced sense of masculinity and femininity, the latter holding more weight in determining whether I’d date someone. Antoni represents this very equilibrium.
When I imagine my future husband, I much prefer him cross-legged reading a book than tossin’ around the ol’ pigskin! He’s not afraid to compliment another guy on his outfit and we spend equal time in the kitchen. This man emotes. This man creates. This man gives and receives thoughtfully and intentionally. He likes fashion, art, music, travel, or anything toxic masculinity has subtly shamed. I find strength in that which others deem delicate—sensitivity, vulnerability, good taste. For me, it signifies authenticity and a well-developed sense of self that compliments my own. It shows a man has defied the expectations for a hard exterior and has notable depth.
I’ve probably spent an inordinate amount of my life conjuring weirdly specific characteristics of my dream man. I am a romantic, after all. But it took my first queer crush to unearth the root of my taste. To soft men: may we raise them, may we validate them… and may I marry a dope one who cooks for me.