Telling his friends about our trip to the water park at Kings Dominion, my boyfriend declared that he and I were "definitely" in the Top Eight in terms of hottest (or, in this case of adjusted standards, most reasonably fit) body. I never asked if he limited the finalists to eight because of MySpace terminology or because there were literally only six other attractive males at the park that day. (I am leaning toward the latter.)

Of course, despite standing out as one of few men without severe gynecomastia, I still managed to feel insecure while waiting in line beside a guy with a tight chest and chiseled abs.

"I need to start working on my abs," I said, vaguely and without elaborating. My boyfriend had apparently noticed Mr. Abs, too, because he rolled his eyes and said to me, "Um, that guy does not have abs because he works out. He has abs because he is 14 years old."

Youth is truly wasted on the young.