The Regulation Journal

For a long time, I thought my relationship with masculinity was broken.

I had been taught—implicitly and explicitly—that masculinity was something loud, forceful, and volatile. Something that demanded space rather than shared it. Something that dominated rather than listened. My nervous system learned early that being around men required vigilance, not relaxation.

And yet, despite all of that, my attraction to men never disappeared.

It changed.Instead of being drawn to men who performed masculinity loudly, I found myself noticing men who carried it quietly. Men who felt settled in themselves. Men who didn’t posture. Men who were competent without being intimidating, confident without being careless, present without being invasive.

This attraction wasn’t about fantasy or conquest. It wasn’t even primarily sexual. It was about safety.

My body learned to recognize safety before my mind could articulate it. I would feel it in small, almost unnoticeable moments: a steady handshake, a calm voice, a relaxed posture, a man who didn’t rush closeness or recoil from it. Men who could stand near other men without turning intimacy into competition.

These moments mattered more to me than grand gestures ever could.

Touch, for me, exists on a spectrum. A handshake can feel intimate. A knuckle tap can feel affirming. A brief hand on the shoulder can communicate more care than words. These gestures don’t ask anything of me. They don’t escalate. They don’t demand interpretation.

Hugs are different. I approach them carefully. I don’t dislike them—but my body needs time, trust, and context. When I do allow one, it is intentional. It is chosen. It is never automatic.

This is where people often misunderstand my attraction to men.They assume attraction must escalate. That noticing leads to wanting, wanting leads to action, and action leads to identity. But my experience doesn’t follow that linear path. I can feel attraction and still choose boundaries without conflict. I can admire men deeply without wanting to cross lines that don’t feel right for me.What I’m drawn to is masculinity that does not threaten my autonomy.

Men who are emotionally expressive without being overwhelming. Men who are affectionate without being possessive. Men who understand closeness as something mutual rather than something taken.

This is why I resonate so strongly with men who are panromantic, demipanromantic, or demisexual in orientation—or at the very least, pan-coded in how they move through the world. Their approach to attraction mirrors my own: relational, intentional, grounded.Masculinity, when it is safe, doesn’t feel like something I have to survive.

It feels like something I can stand beside.And that realization changed everything.