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You really should hate the guy. He's got a killer body, the kind of looks that make women melt, and a backstory that reads like some Hollywood classic. Here's the plot line: Starting out as an aimless SoCal skater kid, Jason Lewis stumbled into modeling, which led to some minor acting gigs, which morphed into a breakout role as Kim Cattrall's lank-haired, ab-gifted boy toy during the final season of HBO's Sex and the City. Soon came fame, fans, and an outsized portion of media attention, much of it over his steel-cut physique (liberally put on display during the series, most often body-locked with Cattrall). It was pretty much that simple.

There were more showy roles (notably as a closeted gay actor on ABC's Brothers & Sisters), boldfaced name status in the tabloids (his romance and subsequent breakup from actress Rosario Dawson was chronicled in painstaking detail), and now, a turn in the feature film version of Sex and the City, a preordained summer blockbuster certain to give the 36-year-old's career another rocket jolt. As if he needs it.

If the seemingly effortless trajectory of his success isn't enough to foster buckets of envy-fueled irritation, just peruse the images in these pages. The man doesn't just turn heads, he sends them into whiplash. Female and male. Women routinely ask him to sign body parts. Not too long ago, the celebrity rumor mill worked itself into a frenzy over a report that he and Jennifer Aniston were dating, a story based apparently on little more than the assumption that two individuals this genetically blessed (and available) should be in a relationship.

But just when you're ready to resent his very existence, Lewis takes you off script by being, well, pretty cool. He's a Californian who distrusts L.A.; a chiseled sex symbol who's nonchalant about gym commitments (OK, that's not so cool to us!); an actor whose grand plan to capitalize on this summer's media exposure is to ditch Hollywood and go snowboarding in Chile. What's to hate?

You find yourself sitting across from him at a sidewalk table outside a hip Venice Beach deli, soaking in the glorious midmorning California sun, watching as he casually flips pieces of steak to Beqa, his beloved 11-year-old Rhodesian ridgeback. Jealousy is the furthest thing from your mind. But if for only a day, you just really want to be Jason Lewis.

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