Glenderful's Shit List: Matt Dillon

My obsession with jawlines and smirks is a canon event that started when flip phones were the main character. (And yes, my delulu age is 25, thank you very much.) But one man has been the CEO of my fantasy league for literal decades. The ultimate plus-one on my cinematic villain arc? Drumroll, please… Matt. Freaking. Dillon.

Let's break it down. First, the fit. The man is a whole aesthetic—just under six feet of lean lines and New York muscle memory. He serves working-class grace that you simply cannot replicate. And the voice? It's giving gravel and velvet, pure Queens energy that hits different and lives in your head rent-free.

Then there's the eye contact. That steady, smoke-heavy gaze that doesn't chase—it waits. They add the ick-proof layer of danger, making you wonder what a moral grey area even smells like. This isn't your average Instagram thirst trap. It's cinematic rizz—the kind that simmers. The hotness is in the restraint.

And the filmography? Please.He's giving Brando's heir in The Outsiders, tragic poetry in Rumble Fish, and boy-next-door bf energy in The Flamingo Kid (my Roman Empire, btw). By Drugstore Cowboy, Dillon isn't just acting—he's transcending. And A Kiss Before Dying? Let's just say he redefined "dangerously hot." The sex scenes? GIVING. MANIA!!!!

Cut to There’s Something About Mary, where he steals the movie with pure sleaze and main character energy, and City of Ghosts, where he wrote, directed, and brooded his way through cinema. Crash proves he can ruin your whole day and you'd thank him for it. Even You, Me and Dupree is a reminder that he can out-act chaos with one eyebrow raise.

Confession time: I've had a decades-long, full-blown hyperfixation. I used to clear newsstands of any magazine with his face on it—Details, Rolling Stone, even US Weekly (the cringe, I know). If he was on the cover, it was mine. What happened when I got home with it? Let's just say… it's giving "and they were roommates" energy. LOL.

But for real—how has this man been in Hollywood for forty years with zero scandal? Sure, he's a certified heartbreaker, a walking serotonin boost, but he's done it all with mystery, main character energy, and just enough rumor to keep the delulu alive. (And yes, if the gossip from the girlies is true—he's, um, blessed. Are we surprised? The math is mathing!)

Even in his sixties, Dillon's still got that glow. He jokes about eating twelve donuts a day, but we know that's just rizz. He's the kind of man who orders espresso in Paris, bacon and eggs in New York, and still looks like sin in a leather jacket. It's giving eternal hot guy.

So yeah, my Shit List—the sacred scroll of men who absolutely mother—is short, but it's glorious. Matt Dillon sits at the top like a smoky-eyed deity, radiating talent, charisma, and a healthy dose of "I can fix him."

Matt, bestie—you've more than earned your crown.

Now tell me… when are we FINALLY getting this party started? 👀