It is worth it (for your wiener's sake)? Specifically, is it worth it for that wiener dangling between your legs? Circumstances being what they are, often times, in light of the explicit pursuit, it most definitely is.
Read on.
I attended the 2026 Mississippi Book Festival a few weekends ago, and had the privilege to end the day listening (I was in the minority as a male attendee) to Ms. Belle Burden discuss here runaway tome, Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage. She detailed (read aloud, for perhaps the umpteenth time) a portion of her memoir that is one of the most popular. That being the verbiage detailing the public (to his wife & two daughters) declaration that her husband was no longer happily married and therefore demanding a divorce. There within the Methodist Church Sanctuary, her amplified voice released the dry-as-a-bone few paragraphs to the audience as the moderator's countenance winced dramatically. I must say that it was a heady, clinical descriptor, beautifully summarizing her and her children's now difficult plight as their shafted position of rejection instantaneously took root.
Towards the end of her session, Ms. Burden was asked (audience Q & A) if she'd ever marry again. She stated only if "he and I could live in separate apartments". The resulting laughter was no doubt nervously somber / low key.
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Yesterday, (10/3) YouTube's algorithm brought me to a West Hollywood ("The Gay Therapist") therapist who was interviewing a young man (supposedly a former Mormon) who'd painfully, despondently, victoriously(!/?/!) embraced the homosexual lifestyle. The therapist was totally oblivious towards the Mormon church (as are many who're outsiders therein), therefore his interrogation was laughably inept.
What was clear was how much the young (very handsome) ex-Mormon had walked away from in light of his gay horniness / wiener, and not only in relation to his church but his heritage / pedigree. He made that exceedingly clear. For he proudly articulated how faithful he'd been to his beliefs / Mormon culture (graduating from BYU, undergoing a 2-year mission) until he wasn't.
But hey, he did get to have gay sex...in the end. And arguably, there's no more intense (wiener) sexual "lifestyle" than the gay one (particularly when you're young, horny and very physically attractive).
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Feeling that tingle or dick itch, as I like to call it, is a powerful motivator. Think of it as wiener think.
Whether you abandon your wife / children whilst residing within your multi-million-dollar (second) home on Martha's Vineyard, your faith / heritage as a deeply religious man, squander your conscience / professional credentials as an employer / employee and on and on, the answer to the question is a resounding YES! outside of the ethos of who you truly are as a man.
But what's at work here?
I believe in all three of these cases, mundanity plays a sizable role along with the (often) oversimplified risk / reward dynamic. And who can forget the unequivocal male need for respect (both self & otherwise)?
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The Heart single (Brigade album) from the '90s proclaims "All I Want To Do Is Make Love To You". The song, written for Don Henley (by Mutt Lange), makes much more sense therein versus being performed via Ann & Nancy Wilson. Why?
Because it's worth it for men to behave this way. 100% worth it. Even if they have to fabricate the desire (hire a prostitute).
Women, on the other hand, embrace security. Feelings of security don't emanate from the clitoris. And no woman (in her right mind) would stop to pick up a hitchhiker at night, during a rainstorm, prior to taking him to a motel to just fuck before slipping out the next morning to continue forward with her life.
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Whilst serving as an employee, whether in the private or public sector, so long as gay porn was available for me to dabble in throughout the workday, I would make time to consume those images. Why?
I did this for the same (but perhaps, arguably "safer") reason(s) the men cited above did what they did.
Except in my case, the images were so stunningly, illusively vicarious. Particularly whilst looking back on my middle-school years and how they served to bridge between the then (non-explicit) and now (explicit). And oh my gosh were they ever explicit!
As such, the pull felt impossible to resist. And yes, I hoped to get caught just as Mr. Davis anticipated making that jaw-dropping speech to his then attorney wife, Belle Burden / the young Mormon BYU student burst forth via all that pent up homo-energy.
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What's really frightening though about all of this wiener thinking / neediness is how much a gamble it is to deduce which, if any, of these men will regain the disciplined self-control that separates us / them from the four-legged kind of God's creation.
And what might bring that about, ultimately?
I'll share one thing with you that absolutely won't. Anger. Low, simmering anger. Towards others, God, oneself.
Ms. Burden's tome certainly didn't / won't help matters between these ex-eses. Nor will sitting in for YouTube interviews with (clearly) ill-prepared / deeply biased interviewers.
An immense, solidly gut-wrenching sense of defeat is what did it for me. Combined with someone I deeply respected looking me straight in the eye and passing demonical judgement. In other words, there was no cheering section for Rob / proverbially optimistic naysayers. I was utterly alone and without hope.
And yet, my wiener think really hadn't resulted in any major relational injury. I knew this deep down. I hadn't physically cheated nor pivoted away from my beliefs. No one got hurt but Rob, in the end. But therein lay the deep-seated singular finality of it all. For hurting Rob wasn't / isn't at all easy (it's one of the primary strengths enabling me to become an architect). Until September 2013 rolled around.
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Last night, I dreamed I was back in architecture school, yet the building was not the one I haunted either in Starkville or Jackson (MSU: '90 - '95). This was a new space with unfamiliar, much younger (perhaps I was young too) colleagues. And the dream was so very vivid that whilst awaking, I was so very relieved to realize that "it was just a dream!" (I felt woefully unprepared to go back to school).
And I have these sorts of dreams too, very often, about returning to my former (private sector) architecture firm employer ('96 - '06). Again, I literally feel as if I'm choking on the panic I'm experiencing therein due to the vividity and familiarity.
Why?
Because it was just a huge misunderstanding. Somehow there'd been a reverse time jump (or somesuch), and here I was again.
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Samson Society, ultimately, became my mistress. My relationship with this ministry was / has become tantamount to every gay sexual voyeuristic consumption only sanctimoniously / properly filtered through a Judeo-Christian hierarchy (The Fact, The Path, The Pact).
Returning to that state of immense loneliness is such the ill-equipped notion that I'd not even know where to begin.
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