Amazing Reunion

I spoke with my freshman roommate (Mississippi State University) yesterday, (2/17) for the first time since last seeing him in '91 (we didn't part ways amiably).  Having acquired his cell phone # from our aforementioned rental neighbors, I placed a call on Valentine's Day (don't read anything into that one, please), leaving Chad a detailed voicemail.

Later that night, he text messaged the following response:  "Rob, got your message.  It made my day.  Looking forward to catching up...I'll text tomorrow, and we can talk?"

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Chad was / is from South MS.  Very small-town South MS.  He was outgoing and kind but also terribly homesick throughout our freshman year.  He'd leave Starkville early every Friday (if not Thursday evening) and return late Sunday evening religiously in order to maintain as close contact with his family as possible.  As such, I was left alone every weekend, and since I had zero friends, it resulted in some depressing interludes (especially during Spring semester when there were no football games to attend).  

Everyone on our dorm hall liked / respected Chad.  He was affable and confident.  Athletically built and driven.  Plus, he had this beautiful smile that could diffuse anyone / any situation effortlessly (& he was almost always smiling).  

I, on the other hand, being the architecture student / Maroon Band member, in many ways, was the complete opposite of Chad.  First and foremost, I was hard pressed to succeed academically without putting in the work required (I was by no means a gifted student).  Architecture school catapults its students into the curriculum thereby making very little room for error.  And that's on top of a higher-level math + Physics I & II (Year One).  Freehand drawing too was a consistent drain, for drawing well (for Rob) takes lots of time / shouldn't be rushed.  As such, each week, we had another detailed drawing assignment to turn in for critique (in front of the entire class).  

Chad gave me a lot of space to buckle down, but often I'd use any "I'm too busy" excuse to simply avoid having to interact with him socially (going out to eat, having any semblance of fun).  And it wasn't like he was a hellraiser by any means (he couldn't afford to be for he was an engineering major).  As a result, eventually, he simply stopped making any effort to include me.

Chad knew I had a quick wit.  Plus, he was very curious to know me from the standpoint of being a city slicker.  And he saw too that I desperately needed friends (like every student) yet wouldn't admit to it (& therefore try / make time for it).  

Therefore, there was this tension or barrier between us.  A barrier that I silently, pridefully reinforced throughout our time together.  Yet, despite this immature tension, he never hesitated to take a stab at pushing through.  Never, 'till the very end of that year, did he completely give up on a potential breakthrough.   

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There were a couple of guys on our dorm hall that had unsurprisingly singled me out as a target for ridicule.  And, whilst looking back, I made it easy for them.  My choice of music (as well as the volume I played it) was so very gay.  

I realize now that Chad's sincere respect towards me worked as a shield from far more severe ridicule than I received.  Specifically, he never acknowledged my uncomfortableness with my body / voice or choose to exploit that in any way (there was never even a hint of mockery).  Instead, he simply chose to be polite / respectful / gentlemanly even.  

I think too that he knew deep down that if I seemed agitated (which was commonplace), it was due to my frustration with myself / the workload more than anyone / anything else. 

He was a very emotionally mature young man.  In fact, he was by far the most emotionally mature male, who happened to be my age, that I'd ever encountered at that stage of my life (late teens).

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Yesterday, Chad and I could have chatted for hours.  We did text message after dinner repeatedly, swapping stories to jointly reminiscence.  There were a lot of lol moments. 

Chad's life, beyond our freshman year, mirrors my own in so many ways. He married right after graduating college, has three kidlets (one of which was a happy surprise), and he resides too within his hometown near his beloved family.  

In closing, I can tell you that he's not given up on breaking through.  I could sense that yesterday throughout our talk.  Chad understandably knows me well.  And he's absolutely ready for me to corroborate his intuition.  That being said, it's brought back a lot of fear as I wonder what might become of this renewed friendship spark if I'm completely transparent as to who I was then / what I've become today.

2025 is going to be an interesting year as it pertains to this unexpected reconnection.  I owe this guy a lot.  Please pray for God's timing as we continue forward for such a time as this as middle-aged men.  

  

A Powerful Stream Of Piss

One way to ensure high pressure urination is to hold it in for a while.  Another way is to acquiesce one's genitals into their "best" (most pleasurable) behavior (coitus).  & I don't say that in jest.  Everyone (ideally) hopes to show their lover a good time when the time comes (sorry).  And by that very hopeful goal / definition, the resulting acidic release will no doubt be impressive.   

But can we not also hedge this truth up against the idealism put on display whilst attempting to kindle a new friendship?  And in line with that, the release after the fact, once we finally allow ourselves to exhale / let out our gut?

Friendships are built over time, but firstly, they must be initiated by someone.  From there, an intimate encounter must occur where both parties participate in equal measure.  Perhaps this is a "eat / meet up", golf outing, hunting, fishing, etc.  Whatever is of interest to both parties.  Whether it's individuals or entire clans.

And this encounter takes a lot of energy.  For most everyone wants to put their best foot forward.  At least initially.  Too, there's simply the focus required to perform versus the after-the-fact involuntary exercise of relieving oneself (letting one's hair down).

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Now, I realize not everyone agrees with this "Jekyll / Hyde" approach to relational charm 100%.  Some would rather mix & match here in order to "present more authentically".  But for me, I typically do gravitate towards charm versus gravitas as a first priority.  And I believe that has something to do with my southern upbringing. 

For a beautifully set table says a lot, don't you think? 

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Last summer, I began to notice some very out-of-the-ordinary activity at one of our neighbors' homes.  And mostly this was due to my years-long knowledge that this abode was a rental, and a very ugly (architecturally) rental at that, situated on a less-than-ideal lot.  Surprisingly, whomever was now living there had taken an interest in its upkeep!  I could hear lawn equipment in full swing combined with the impossible to miss minor upgrades such as outdoor string lights draped above the back porch, etc.   

As a result, I made a point to drop by and introduce myself.  I was delighted to find the family to be engaging and kind, and they seemed deeply grateful for the handshake / welcome from my oldest daughter and me.  Eventually, a formal invite to dinner (at our abode across the street) was delivered, but it didn't actually occur (due to their rigorous family schedule) 'till right at the tail end of last year.   

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What made this all the more significant was the history of homeowners / tenants who'd resided within that ugly eyesore of a home.  A history that mostly consisted of difficulties / disappointments that we were keen to forget.  Hence, a fresh start was upon us, and we were elated.

Eventually, mid-December came.  I remember coming home from work early to assist everyone for our guests' (Dad / mom / son / teenage daughter) Friday night arrival.

A quick sidenote:  What I hadn't accounted for was the time lapsed (+/-6 months) since making first (brief) contact with this white, middle-class fam.  Hence, they'd now truly settled into their rental with its history / shortcomings having soaked in thoroughly.  

As such, they were obviously affected overall due to the limitations / permutations of their temporary home (they were / are actively planning / constructing a rural homestead far and away from our suburban enclave).

After their departure (they hung out with us for about 90 minutes), I hoped forlornly that they'd take up our offer to visit our church, especially considering the Xmas season being upon us.  

They didn't.

What we did learn was how vital it was for the majority of the clan to escape their rental home via weekend deer hunting treks to south MS (it's important to know that both children wore camouflage attire to our dinner party).  

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The hardest part about this failed attempt to gain newfound friends was knowing that it wasn't us.  It was their circumstances that kept them from connecting therein.  For that "cursed" house simply had run its accelerated course as it pertained to both their immediate and long-term outlook.  And it did so via being a constant reminder of their transient status combined with its less-than-ideal living conditions for themselves + their pets.  

Hence, we felt unfairly (though only tangentially) sort of responsible - by proxy - of their discomfort in spite of our attempts to be neighborly.  

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Samson Society is well represented by this family's temporary plight.  It's a (hopefully) pivot point to a better place.   

But what's interesting therein is, in terms of the initial Samson Society intro (of yourself), it's the urination that's most vital versus any semblance of presentation performance (formalities).  And some of us are better at this than others.  

I love this...

In closing, remember where you once were, my Samson brother, when you first stepped foot into a meeting.  As such, encourage newbies to pee, all the more, 'till they've fully relieved themselves.  And this may take months, if not years, of being listened to.  For their troubles didn't happen overnight, and it will take time for their permanent / new home to be planned / constructed.   

As such, love them where they're at, patiently waiting for them to realize / recognize that you were once right there too.   

Curiosity Guardrails

As a 52-year-old, I have and continue to be a very curious person.  And this curiosity primarily is seated towards men / boys / males.  Whether it's interpersonal, business, church, if males are involved therein, I'm curious as to who these dudes are specifically / what motivates them to be involved / their backstory, etc.  In other words, if I had been Steve Trevor, landing on Themyscira by accident, I would likely have quickly died from boredom.  Why?  To Rob, women, in particular, are incredibly boring / uninteresting handiworks of the Creator God.  And no, that statement doesn't automatically make me a misogynist.  For I love my wife and my daughters with my whole heart.  

As such, women / girls / females are of distinct value, but overall, I MUCH PREFER being opportunistic regarding rubbing shoulders with men / boys / males. & for the most part, this curiosity is rooted in my own gender combined with my distinct inability to see myself (good, bad or ugly) therein.  Combine those two together and you have an endless supply of motivation to be man / boy / male curious / associative.

A distinct benefit of my men / boy / male curiosity / fascination is it has allowed me to clinically analyze the cultural choice that so many men have made as it pertains to their homosexual desires, and the keyword there is clinically.  And I've been doing this from early on within my life as I crossed paths with in-person men prior to also overlaying that MO with those who present themselves online.  Earlier this week, I delved into a podcast that's hook is interviewing hyper-masculine gay porn stars.  And it was fascinating.  To have that granular opportunity here in 2025 is amazing.  For it allows me to see / understand / confirm my choices by analyzing - up close & personal - theirs.  All the while satiating my curiosity appetite (in ways that do not involve gay porn).  

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And that serves as a lovely segue into the ease of access of gay porn and why that's such an issue for me.

Covenant Eyes is my lifesaver.  It puts guardrails on my insatiable curiosity yet not so much that I feel like I'm being treated as if I'm a child.  

I have one Ally who monitors the CE reporting and WILL reach out if he sees activity (he receives my report on Monday) therein that seems abnormal.

This man is local, and we've known each other for many years (originating within in-person Samson Society).  I respect this man enough to know how his presence as my Ally influences my behavior online.

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What's unusual is how effective this is overall.  Now, there have been rare occasions (tail end of last year) where I've been lackadaisical, and this has resulted in me delving into gay porn consumption no holds barred (for a week or two).  But this approach / attitude isn't the norm.  

Nonetheless, if throwing caution to the wind does rear its head more than usual, I may very well turn on filtering within the CE sentinel software as a means to an end.  Thankfully, at this point, I've never had to do that.

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And yes, there are times when CE "craps out" and needs reinstallation.  All software has this trait, and mostly it's due to CE not being able to readily keep up with OS updates - rung to rung.  

In closing, CE is a huge partner of Samson Society.  I love this especially about their company. Countless men hear about Samson Society via their engagement with Covenant Eyes. 

All this being said, I just purchased a CE lifetime membership and am proud for it.

Thank you, Covenant Eyes for orchestrating my online behavior for the better.

Ready To Listen? Ready To Be Heard? If So, Samson Society Might Just Be For You In 2025.

Mr. Nate Larkin has been hosting one of the (5-6 per week) "newcomer meetings" for quite a while now.  These meetings serve as a clearinghouse for men who're interested in joining Samson Society (gaining access to virtual meetings / Slack, etc.), and it's assumed they've never attended an in-person Samson meeting (i.e. they're very green).  

In essence, newcomers are able to reserve a seat at (again, 5-6 offered per week) upcoming newcomers' meetings on the homepage of www.samsonsociety.com.  From there, they receive an email invitation which gives them access at the set day / time of their scheduled meeting.  

I had the privilege to officially take the reins of Nate's regularly hosted newcomers' meeting this past Saturday, (12/28) in response to Nate's wife's request to be able to spend the full Saturday(s) with him going forward.  It was a whole lot of fun.

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The newcomers' meeting firstly, in my mind, needs to provide these men - who're brave enough to step up - with a concise description of what exactly Samson Society is and how it works.  And these newcomer meeting's foundations laid therein already does bring that to bare.  How so?  There's a specific newcomers' meeting slide deck that provides a one-to-one overview of a standard format Samson meeting.  As such, it's expected that me as the host, breeze through these at some point during the hour.  Besides that, what I also observed Mr. Nate Larkin relay were specific details as to his journey within 12-steps groups and how he'd attempted to overlay many of those attributes in light of his desire to foster similarly positive experiences within Samson Society (a personal justification / origin story of the Samson ethos).  

Therefore, there's a template here, but in regard to Nate's position as founder, he also brought so much firsthand narrative to the table.

But one truth that I keep coming back to is how - within a standard format meeting - guys essentially are given the opportunity / expectation to both listen intently whilst talking openly themselves sans any feedback.  This, to me, is what sets Samson Society apart.

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We are a culture built on individualism.  Individualism that's customizable to the nth degree.  This western culture approach has grown out of another cultural lynchpin.  That being unending criticism - from every side.  We westerners spend an enormous amount of energy / time critiquing everything around us.  And this is an outgrowth of our being image bearers.  For God offers the ultimate critique as he adjudicates our hearts with the deepest and most resolute sincerity.  

Because of this, we hide an awful lot of ourselves or choose to live separate lives depending on the surroundings we might find ourselves within.  And this is an inevitability, though as we age, I do believe there can / should be less and less of this default shielding.

Therefore, for those of us who find the results of these various approaches stilting, debilitating, suffocating, genuinely exhausting, I offer you Samson Society.  

And no, you don't have to have issues with anything especially compulsory or addictive to qualify.    

  

It's Been Ten Years Since I First Stepped Foot Into A Samson Society Meeting!

Over the past ten years, I've attended at least one Samson Society meeting a week.  August 2014 at First Baptist Church Jackson (Summit Counseling suite) was when that first meeting (involving Rob) occurred.  I had met with Mr. Don Waller (facilitator of said meeting) on one occasion, and from there, he ushered me into his group (which at the time was the only Samson Society meeting in Mississippi, as far as we knew).

There were +/-9 men in that first-for-Rob meeting, 3 of which (including me) struggled with same-sex attraction.  Having those two other brave men there meant the world to me.

I was in so much emotional pain due to my PTSD (fallout post job loss) that I would have taken any group referral, no matter how outlandish, seriously at that time.

Don was smart to not provide me with any preview of what Samson Society was.  Therefore, I walked in blind, with eyes wide open towards a ministry that seemed as approachable as all the others I'd been invited into (throughout my life).  For at that time, nothing could seemingly stop my emotional hemorrhaging.  I truly had lost all hope and therefore wasn't capable of trusting anyone.    

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As a same-sex attracted man, I can wholeheartedly say that what's kept me involved throughout these ten years has been my overall love for men.  That along with my servant spirit has allowed me to never grow tired / weary of this ministry.  

Regarding the latter, though that phrase, "servant spirit", may sound Titleist, what I'm referring to is my temperament.  In no way does it imply that I'm a "better Christian", more like Jesus or anything of the sort.  

I simply enjoy serving others.  Especially if those others have testicles dangling between their legs.  This makes me a type B personality which is unusual for Samson Society demographically.

As an aside, there are times when other men taunt me for executing kettlebell swings at the Y, citing my need to "wear a cup" (they do appear somewhat risky if they're executed correctly).  More often than not, I'll respond that I'm actually a eunuch.  That immediately shuts them up.

In many ways, I behave as a Biblical eunuch (though I do have my testicles) within this ministry.  Over the years, a lot of Samson brothers have taken advantage of that position.  Whilst looking back, I'm very appreciative of that.  I listen without being able to relate to much of what they've / they're experiencing, and I find that being heard is all they truly need.

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Because cross talk isn't allowed within Samson Society meetings, I 100% of the time feel heard and seen.  Because there's no requirement that you speak on the suggested topic, I feel free to open up as I feel so moved.  In other words, if I want to talk about Butt play, I can.  If I want to talk through how difficult it is to sometimes manage my feelings of shame (within certain circumstances) due to my homosexual desires, I can.  If I want to talk about how beautiful I find it to be to observe men pleasuring themselves (especially when it involves semen), I can. If I want to talk about how fortunate I feel to observe a beautiful man unabashedly peel off their shirts (within an appropriate setting), I can.

I loathe hearing men make some sort of attempt to "speak into my life" within a group setting.  I also despise group exercises that insinuate / relegate camaraderie or tribalism.  To me, this harkens too much into the political / religious / cult realm, feeling fake and forced.

Samson Society resists this emotional posturing outright (based on my observations).  And I love that.  As such, you can hate the guts of everyone in the room but still benefit tremendously by simply being present (& that's why it will never be church).

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Mr. Nate Larkin and his sweet wife are my heroes.  Leading via weakness is where it's at (if you ask them).  He's the antithesis of Dr. James Dobson, Franklin Graham, etc. (men who incessantly critique - for attention and donations - everyone and everything around them).  Nate simply knows how to sit back and enjoy time with other men.  Whether it's his BFF Aaron Porter or Samson guys at the Summit.  I love that about him.

For I too just want to bask in the maleness (enjoying the view) whilst feeling / being seen.  It's an intoxicating experience that powerfully affirms me myself as an image-bearer.  I grow stronger and more self aware as a result.

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In closing, I love to push boundaries.  Especially with guys within Samson.  I like to see how men might react to stories / questions that are tough to hear.  

Because I'm here for my recovery, I'm far less fearful of offending someone (plus taking risks = feeling masculine for Rob).  And sometimes, these "tests" result in some real growth pertaining to our friendship.  Other times, the friendship implodes as a result.  Because of whom I am, I rarely feign sincere loss if the latter occurs.  For I have memory and more often than not, a record of that man via his writings, audio journals, etc.that I can look back on at my discretion (which I often do).

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One final note.  

The men who've attempted to woo me into a sexual relationship have been few and far between within Samson Society.  Remember, it takes two to tango.  That being said, you're always going to have guys who simply do not believe that homosexual activity is sinful, and when they see just how sincere I am (most Samson guys are) pertaining to my / their sexuality, some simply can't seem to help themselves from dipping their toe in the water (to check the temp).  

I think of a lot of this stems from these men desiring a virgin / Samson lay.  And I get that.  

One dude used to ask me repeatedly, "Are you sure you've never had sex with another man?" (hint, hint).

That horny old Catholic fart.  

Here's to another ten years!  

Intimacy With Men Lives On Via Memory & Technology

Sledge's birthday is 2024's Memorial Day.  Leading up to his birthday, each year, I re-listen to his audio journals & re-read his personal analytical work that he so fearlessly sent my way back in 2018.  Sledge was 28 at the time, and I was 45.  We'd met due to his willingness to step into the Samson Society meeting I facilitated at Lakeside Pres.  At the time, lust was a sizable part of his life, and he'd found himself convicted therein whilst hearing a mutual friend of ours share his testimony (prior to referring his audience to Samson Society).

Sledge needing psychotherapy and likely meds for clinical depression, but this wasn't apparent to me initially.  Instead, what jarred my attention (whilst parlaying my analytical thinking), to the massive degree that it did, was just how head-over-heels enamored he was of Rob from the moment we met.

Why did this matter?

Sledge loathed MS.  Everyone in MS.  Except for me and a woman at work that he'd grown fiercely attracted to.  This combined with his brilliance made for quite the enigma.  

So, how did he end up here within the Butt Crack of the USA?  Essentially, his relentless efforts to climb the corporate ladder begrudgingly brought him here.

At this time, Sledge was newly married and actively working to reproduce (he & his sweet wife already had one offspring). Regarding his spouse, I'm fairly certain she knew her husband was mentally ill (she was a healthcare worker) yet was too afraid to put it into words.  For Sledge had a razor-sharp tongue and zero tolerance for criticism from anyone sans using it in kind.  Plus, they'd tried couples therapy to no avail.  Nonetheless, she gave him what he seemed to care amount mostly.  Her desire for sex.  And this he obliged from her with absolutely zero resistance.  For Sledge received seemingly otherworldly amounts of affirmation via cunninlingus / vaginal intercourse.

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It was around this time of year (early summer) when I headed to south AL for 5th / 6th grade church camp.  This was a weeklong affair at a humble venue containing absolutely zero out-of-the-ordinary (from what I was used to in MS) natural beauty whatsoever.  It was a flat, forestry landscape with a relatively small lake.  Therein, each humble building was interconnected via gravel path / road.  

It was only our church, First Baptist Church Jackson, that participated, therefore there were no opportunities to intermingle / befriend with fresh faces.  In total, around 30-40 boys & girls were present for this scorchingly hot summer break week.

The year was 1985.  Van Halen's game-changing album had just come out (in fact, they'd even performed in Jackson at the MS Coliseum).  It defined this era pertaining to what it meant to be a young white male.  

During the late evening of the day we arrived at the church camp, I headed to the communal bathroom, there within the boys' bunkhouse, to brush my teeth.  Mid-way through my brushing, I heard the lone shower (that was being used) turn off.  When the curtain was raked violently across the rod, our collegiate chaperone, Dan, put his wet, naked bod nonchalantly on display.

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Sledge's audio journals were meticulously narrated / recorded.  The degree of vulnerability within is unlike any Samson deliverable I've ever received (& I've received A LOT of deliverables over the past decade).  

When I first listened to them back in 2018 (immediately following their gifting), the density of the recordings was too much for me to process with any real foresight / diligence.  That, along with how positively intimate they were, short-circuited my understanding of just how needy this young man truly was at the time.

It was almost like seeing him too (through that 1985 wall mirror) naked and wet, right there behind me, for such a time as that.  As such, I did what I only knew to do.  Smile awkwardly and continue forward with my teeth cleaning routine.

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Dan's collegiate frame was awe inspiring.  Both his impressive height and muscular build classified him as intimidating.  Not to mention the thick sandy brown chest and stomach hair that added years of maturity to his 22-year-old self.

And then there was his junk.  

Let's just say, I didn't even know where to begin to process what rested there moistly between this stranger's legs, though when I now come across Ezekiel 23, it easily harkens back.  

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Sledge's upbringing hadn't been normal, and he was just beginning to truly wrestle with the ramifications of that truth.  I could not relate to his growing up years for it all seemed so pejorative.  Particularly considering how intelligent / grounded his parents seemingly were.  

And then from there, his college girlfriend (who eventually became his wife) allowed him to become her dorm room fuck buddy.  And this went on "out of spite" (according to Sledge) in light of their parents' desire to see them complete their higher ed prior to marriage.  

What served as icing on the cake though was the fact that Sledge's dad was a pastor.  A devout, average-sized congregational pastor who loved both his wife and three children immensely.

At this time, Sledge was wondering out loud about pivoting and becoming a pastor himself.

And here I was just standing there at the sink minding my own business...

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Throughout my life, I've never ceased relishing the memory of seeing our collegiate chaperone's freshly showered physique, there on private display, in all of its glory.  For though I'm certain there've been plenty of greater than or equally beautiful men for me to admire, my unexpected exposure to him, at such an impressionable age, taught me such the important lesson.

Timing is everything.  Therefore, be alert.  Some of the most (eventually) fruitful & memorable experiences of one's life may very well occur when you're least expecting it.    

Lagniappe

Resist Being Relationally Territorial Within Samson Society. Remember, You're Only "Brothers" In Concept Alone. Nonetheless, Never Stop Considering The Relational "What If?"

Being an only child helps me in this regard.  I've no siblings to mar my relational outlook.  

What I mean by that is, (as a child) I always had to placate myself to the expectation that any and all friendships would be unpredictable / nonpermanent.  This point of view allowed me to stay hopeful, putting more energy towards the "What If?" versus the "Please don't leave me!".

(For I desperately needed friends.)

How did I do this?

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My favorite rock band throughout my childhood was Heart.  Had the two female band members not been sisters, I doubt the allure would have been nearly as strong.  Through Ann and Nancy, I vicariously enjoyed having / observing a sibling(s).  

What was so obvious to me about these two was the "order of operation" baked into the relationship.  Now, for those of you who know Heart well, you're privy to the fact that Ann wasn't the oldest child within the family.  There was an older sister still who just happened to not be a musician.  But if you know anything about these two rock 'n roll superstars, there's a definitive hierarchy combined with a steadfast, implicit value anchorage.  

In essence, Ann Wilson was the lead, and both sisters recognized the fact that they were far more valuable as a pairing than individually.

Both Ann and Nancy Wilson have recorded solo work.  In fact, Ann did so firstly by agreeing to perform within a rock duet (movie soundtrack from the mid '80s).  Eventually, Nancy did the same, though her efforts felt much more unsyncopated (in spite of the song's airplay) / unnecessary.    

When both sisters partner as song composers, they credit a pseudonym, "Connie" within the liner notes.  I've always like this.  It implies the seamlessness between the two, both carrying equal weight.  And that's cool.

In the not-too-distant past, Ann and Nancy Wilson had a public falling out.  This resulted in both women rocking (recording / touring) separately for a season.  Now they've made up and are once again together as if it never occurred.  

Why?

Because they're family.  As such, there's simply too much historical alikeness / sensibilities to not effectively keep them together.  

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I'm leery of friendships within this community that feel contrived.  I've been down that road with Samson brothers who're interested in befriending me, having received no indicators that I feel the same.  

Taking risks for Rob = feeling masculine.

This is my / many men's secret sauce pertaining to acting on the "What if?".

Personally, I especially like strong intelligence, but the rarefied attraction between two potential brothers involves identifying and acknowledging (being sympathetic to) his zone.  And doing so in a way that solidifies his trust in you / your trust in him.  This acknowledging will undoubtedly take creativity and a whole lot of deliberateness.

His / your zone = Whatever keeps a man up at night

Maybe it's work or children or his / your health (recovery?).  Whatever it is, if you / he can find a means to support him / you therein, doing so creatively and very intentionally, he's / you're demonstrating two things.

Firstly, your understanding of who you are / he is.  Secondly, your / his willingness to do the work needed to be "brotherly" in that regard.  

Ann Wilson loved music well before starting her band.  Not long after, Nancy joined too, bringing her guitar-playing skillset, songwriting ability, but mostly, she brought her willingness to support sis within an endeavor / "zone" that was no doubt her first love.  

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In closing, Heart's success as a rock band went into stratosphere during the MTV era of the 1980s.  And much of that had to do with the production team they agreed to work with.  A team that understood the era / cultural impact of music video production and how integral it was becoming to influence fandom (drive record sales / airplay).

Putting the dolled-up sisters on display, never too far from one another onscreen, did wonders to intrigue audiences (me).  For not only did they look similar, but there was simply a sibling rapport that was unmistakable.  Not to mention the fact that they were a lot easier on the eyes than Eddie & Alex or Chris & Rich.

Decades of time together, supporting / showing love whilst making entertaining music for all of us to enjoy = success all around. 

Your close brotherly friendships within Samson Society should be just as celebrated.  For they're no doubt similarly influential / entertaining to observe (despite the differences in last names).

A Hard Funeral(s) To Sit Through

Out of respect for my father, I attended a funeral (unrelated to family) today.  This wasn't the first time I'd done this.  When I was in high school, I attended a funeral with him.  I remember it clearly, for the deceased had killed himself via suicide, leaving behind a boy who was only one or two years older than I (the boy went to my high school and the divorced dad had attended church with us).  

That was my first hard funeral due to the tragedy tied to the cause of death.

This one today was tough, but mostly it had to do with the tragic, longstanding narrative tied to the deceased's family life.  

The pastor who officiated (who was a family friend of the deceased) beat the drum of his dead mentor "loving Jesus" to the maximum.  We mourners heard this over and over again.  All the while, everyone there knew the dead man, nor his family members had not darkened the door of the church in decades.  And the setting clearly spoke to this dichotomy.  For the wake and funeral was held in a tee-ninny suburban funeral home parlor where the overflow crowd of mourners were all squeezed in like sardines within the repurposed pews.

At the outset of the service, the officiating pastor cited the book of Samuel, quoting scripture which captured David eulogizing Saul (post his suicidal death).  That was fitting, but I don't believe many mourners picked up on the subtleties therein (is there no more anticlimactic Biblical figure than Saul?).    

Not long after that opening salvo, the pastor used the word chaos to describe the deceased man's family, doing so right there in front of his widow, two daughters and all the grandchildren / great-grandchildren (they were all packed in too).  He even went so far as to specifically cite the bastardization of the man's first grandchild (borne from his youngest daughter) as if it was yesterday's news.

Most of those in attendance likely knew the family when that particular shit hit the fan.  The year was 1989.  Understandably, his daughter's future (& their family's trajectory) was forever changed as a result, but what had to have made the greatest specific impact was the unshakable stigma they were now saddled with.  Particularly considering their place as a well-established, upper-class Jacksonian family.

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What I'm going to say next is going to sound like a cop out, but I'm going to say it anyway because I believe it (& lived through it).

The 1980s weren't good to any of us white folks, and this family was (like so many) right within its crosshairs.  I'm not blaming this decade of excess for their specific missteps, but you must realize that families were hit from two (if not more) sides during this decade.

1.  Enormous economic success that was unparalleled.  Especially for those who were put together and Dale Carnegie extroverted (as the deceased had been during that era).  Most professionals were making money hand over fist (both earned & unearned) which precipitated enormous buying power for these.  Constraint / "quiet living" along with temperance were ideas from the past that were outright mocked during this era.  Everything, and I do mean everything was hinged on excess and immediate gratification, no matter the risk.

2.  Massive shift in societal norms as it pertained to the prioritization of class / cliques / relational circles of influence.  Autonomy was so very out.  Country club status quo was everything and everywhere in the '80s.  There was more chrome and hairspray, Porsche and Winnebago than had ever been seen prior here in America.  For all of these veneers / brands screamed, "LOOK AT ME!"  Arguably, all of the upper / middle-class family's identity was classed directly to these pleasurable platitudes, leaving it particularly vulnerable to headship neglect / distraction. 

Considering both of these, time and energy to play within this particular arena massively downplayed what once was the bastion of familial importance:  

The husband / father's role as protector.  And not just via shielding but via exposure / knowledge / insight that's used to educate / shrew the family of cultural / societal deception risk(s).

The familial chaos cited by today's funeral pastor, I'm convinced, found both its origin and virility during this powerfully influential decade.

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Two distinct funerals.  Considering both this one today and the one from my teenage years, both were tremendously hard to sit through but for different versions of tragic.  

My dad thanked me at the conclusion of each for taking the time to attend.  Because I was there to stand with him, I'm glad I did.   

What Is A Silas?

Here is what our experience tells us: You can get sober from anything going to meetings, but you can’t stay sober just going to meetings. That’s why, in the end, it isn’t even about the meetings. The meetings are a portal into the brotherhood. Samson really lives BETWEEN the meetings in relationships, conversations, friendships. Christianity, properly understood, is a team sport, not an individual event. We’ve been failing because we’ve been playing the wrong game! If we play 1-on-1 against a superior opponent, we will fail.

The lead person on your team we call a Silas. He is the one you are in regular communication with. There is an element of accountability, but it is not focused on sin management. If I just focus on the behavior, I run the risk of mastering that specific behavior and becoming a self-righteous Pharisee. Instead, I give another person (my Silas) real-time access to my whole life. What I’m feeling, thinking, doing, and thinking of doing.

My Silas is not an expert. He is a guy on the same road walking the same direction. But when it comes to my life, he has an advantage over me – he’s not in it! That gives him a perspective on my life that I don’t have. There are whole parts of my life that I can’t see because I’m inside it. Like trying to read the label from inside the bottle.

Here are some of the things my Silas does:

- He gets to know my story.

- He remembers the things I tend to forget.

- He asks the questions I tend to avoid.

- He notices patterns I don’t see.

- He reminds me who I really am.

You are not imposing on him. He gets as much out of the relationship as you do. He needs you to call him. Everyone needs a few moments each day to get out of their own head and focus on another person.

Hi Mate! (Reciprocal Mover & Shaker)

Sledge was his Internet pseudonym.  It didn't take but just a few days before he divulged his real name, Scott, to me.  Scott was a mover & shaker.  Brilliant, creative, funny and full of hope and joy.  And what made our friendship truly unique was his nationality.  Scott was Australian, having lived in Brisbane all of his life.

We became fast friends thanks to "Yahoo! Groups" back around 2008.  I'd posted a couple of sentences within a group dubbed G0YS or somesuch, and my post clearly stated my intentionality towards making a friend who could relate to my situation.  

Within 24 hours, he responded.  We were the same age, evangelical Christians, both same-sex attracted & married to wonderful women with multiple young children.

And though Scott was living (& had been for some time) a double-life (his wife wasn't privy to his sexuality), he found in Rob someone who was living proof that there was another way.

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Yet, I wasn't cognizant of any of this.  I'd made that post in desperation.  Having never met another man who shared my story, here in Mississippi or otherwise, I was fast approaching making some very poor choices / compromises relative to the faithfulness I'd owned up to via my (then) 11-year-old marriage vows.  

Meeting Scott was like a dream come true.  I walked on air for months afterwards, and before long, he was telling me he loved me at the end of each phone call / email.

I'd never had another man speak those words to me.

It was surreal, and it meant so much for such a time as that.

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My friendship with Scott soon propelled me to open up about my sexuality with local men.  Namely men within the pastorate.  And surprisingly, it was well received.  "In-person" friendships developed overnight, and from there, I found myself well positioned to truly begin discussing / writing about my issue with gay porn.  This was a critical step for Rob that I believe fell directly in line with God's will.

All the while, Scott and I began growing apart, and much of it had to do with his unwillingness to open up to local Aussies regarding his sexuality.  I believe too, whilst looking back, that he absolutely (still) enjoyed chronicling his digital travails (online) searching for (illicit) "fun" in the form of "Sledge".  

It's important to know too that Scott wasn't completely opposed to normalizing same-sex relationships that involved physical intimacy whereas I disagreed wholeheartedly therein.  His position was founded in both sympathies combined with a very liberal / libertarian view of society at large.

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The day that I told Scott (via email) that I was needing a sabbatical from our friendship, he replied - at length - almost immediately.  It was such the beautiful sendoff that was full of tremendous grace.  From there, I deleted every digital exchange we'd made and moved forward with a thankful heart.  

I knew one year sans communication between us would pulverize our relationship, but I was willing to go forward with that knowing that I had become his crutch more than anything else.  

It had quickly become apparent to me that one-on-one friendships like the one I had developed with Scott grow surprisingly fast but can also develop their own kind of implied loneliness due to their pseudo co-dependency therein.  

After our formal decoupling, my friendships with local men continued to expand / thrive.  In fact, I found my first "Silas" just one year or so later.  And that relationship sprung forth from both of our individual desires for sanctification (primarily from compulsive sexual sin).  

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Fast forward sixteen years to today.

This past January an Aussie appeared within one of the Zoom thumbnails during just another "Brain Changers" Samson Society meeting.  And wouldn't you know it, but he too was - no doubt - a mover & shaker.  Brilliant, creative, funny and full of hope and joy.

Sound familiar?

This time though, my new Aussie friend is from Perth.  I remembered Perth because Scott's best friend lived there (she was an architect).

What's comforting to me regarding this new platonic opportunity is how much I distinctly remember learning from my long, long-distance friendship with Scott all those years ago.  As such, I have to wonder, what's God got in store for me now, taking my newfound friend into consideration? 

There's something magical about befriending someone from Australia.  I mean, it's just cool.  But especially so seeing the similarities between the past and the present.

I'm hopeful this one outlasts what Scott and I so enjoyed for those +/-18 months.  I'm thinking there's a good chance it will, taking into consideration the baked in Samson community that surrounds us both, combined with the relational seasoning that's occurred within me, in large part due to my involvement within Samson Society.

  

Wield Your Positive Influence Here Within Samson Society

One of the most substantial outcomes relative to teenage Rob wielding his (positive) influence happened during an (snow day) ice storm.  The year was likely somewhere around early 1988.  The Christmas prior, I'd been gifted a Yamaha keyboard (though I actually didn't play keyboard with any semblance of true ability).  

My best friend, Greg, on the other hand, did play keyboard with envious skill, and he'd just purchased his own Yamaha synthesizer (from Service Merchandise, no doubt) in response to having "test driven" my own.  

Since I was always looking to spend time with Greg, and knowing that we both enjoyed our mutual friend, Todd's companionship (who just happened to own a Casio keyboard), our keyboard trio, Infinity, serendipitously came together.

And man, oh man, did we three enjoy our time together, composing and practicing, practicing, practicing before finally performing (school talent shows, etc.).  And it all took root with the three of us sitting cross-legged on my small bedroom's cut-pile carpeted floor, laughing and carrying-on, as only us three nerdy Mississippi teens could do during a mid-January late '80s snow day.  

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Being cognizant of (& comfortable wielding) your positive influence is the very best toolset at your disposal as a Samson guy.  Each of us is unique with our specific gifting in this regard.  Some are writers, others are encouragers (spoken word), others still seemingly sages relative to most any circumstance.  And of course, it's a given that communities like Samson Society are perfectly suited to positive influencers.  How and why is this?   

(And though it's certainly priority number one to focus in on your individual recovery, there's still no reason to not keep as a very close second, the opportunistic influence you wield relative to supporting another's.)

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1.  Shared interests

First and foremost is recovery.  Every Samson guy can relate to that.  From there, it's usually humor and deep-seated respect that establish the parallel courses of so many men within Samson Society.  

2.  The need to run interference against despair

A true Samson guy enters in as a result of his recent confrontation with personal, marriage, vocational, spiritual crisis.  Many Samson guys have experienced suicidal thoughts / ideations as a result of this crisis.  Tenured Samson men are forever reminded of this starting point since they've lived it themselves.  As such, their positive influence isn't necessitated to ignore other guys' pain but to counterbalance it.  As a reminder that despair is not and will never be permanent.  Hope exists down the road.

3.  It's within the very DNA of a Samson Society meeting (format)

Every meeting you choose to attend, your presence positions you to influence, from the very moment you log / step foot in the door.  As Christians, carrying the Holy Spirit inside of us, we minister to each other therein.  During share time, as we break up into smaller groups, the opportunity for influence becomes more granular / fine-toothed as more individualized opportunity is placed in our lap.  

4.  Serving another man as his Silas is not unlike being Jiminy Cricket.

Who doesn't want an assigned / appointed friend to come alongside them during arguably the most trying season of their life?  Especially if that man has had the resolve to walk out some portion of his own recovery.  The very presence of one's Silas can do wonders to positively influence.  From there, his listening ear and thoughtful questions only add to the powerful elixir of relational accountability.   

5.  It feels absolutely natural to open your pocketbook and give back.

Positive influencers are not bashful towards putting their money where their heart is.  It's as simple as that.  

Lagniappe

Join Me In Recognizing / Celebrating "Jesus January" - Starting In Three Days!

We're going to focus within this post on monks (an applicable subject, don't you think?).  Specifically, those who lived during the Middle Ages, long before Mr. Nate Larkin wrote his brilliant tome, Samson & The Pirate Monks.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Monks.  Those men of the religious order who resided (past tense) within monasteries, wearing those heavy (usually brown), drab, floor-length robes whilst sporting those gosh awful haircuts.  

Why?

Everyone knows that monks took great pride in their individual penises.  

Do what?  Why?

Well, as you can imagine, its God-given appearance effectively reflected each individual man as they went about their days doing whatever it was that monks do (did) there in those monasteries / in and around the grounds.  You do realize they all pretty much looked the same (whilst fully robed)?

Considering the Pirate Monks of 2023, this is a far cry.  Take, for example, the Neapolitan kaleidoscope of Pirate Monks on site at this past November's National Samson Society retreat in Van, Texas.

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Now you may be asking, how was it that these men of said religious order knew so much about individual penises there amongst the brotherhood?  I'll answer that with the perfect foundational prequel.

The same way Jesus and his disciples were privy to this noteworthy, male reproductive organ truth.

When you do (every aspect of) life together - literally - one's phallus (length, girth, overall shape / body) can easily become a calling card.  In jest firstly, but too, in accordance with the "rules of masculine adjudication" (rank & file).  And, of course, who wouldn't want their penis looking its very best whilst exposed to / up against other's / other's opinion?

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Monks were known to honor / recognize the first month of each calendar year as a season of "penis sabbath".  In other words, other than urinating, it was hands-off!  Too, during this entire month, they were charged to sleep buck naked in order to grant a full 1/3 of that 31-day period to their penises sans loincloths.  (Bringing about a proper genitalia "airing out" via the privacy of their individual bunks.) 

Where did this practice originate?

Historically, monks strongly believed Jesus and his disciples participated within the same January penis fast and did so out of respect for "what lay ahead" of them (February-December).  Having celebrated Christmas (Jesus' birthday) / New Year's with aplomb, Jesus encouraged his bros to be intentional with their genitalia at the outset of the New Year. 

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This practice lovingly became dubbed "Jesus January" sometime around the same time said month was christened "Dry January".  

So now you know.

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You may be asking yourself, "How can I possibly abstain from intercourse throughout the first month of 2024?"  

If you were to add up all of the calendar days your wife typically menstruates over the course of the calendar year, it would add up to +/- 30 days.  Obviously, that equates to one month.  These days of post-fertile menstrual flush provide time for her genitals to rest, resulting in renewed health (& beauty / vitality) going forward.  

Come February, after adhering to the "Jesus January" sabbatical, your wife will be pleasantly impressed to see her husband's toolset well rested / optimized for pleasure during the forth-coming (sorry) months.

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What can one specifically expect if we Pirate Monks adhere to this "Au Naturale" approach to our penises next month?   

I'm not going to provide any case studies here, but I will say that one of the greatest, if not the greatest collateral gain is one's intentional decoupling from known arousal devices.  Perhaps, for you, that's Internet porn.  And, if you make that choice for January, how might this decidedly intentional approach cascade into the remainder of the winter / spring of 2024?  Only good can come of it.  Don't you agree?  

Everyone wants their junk to look and perform at its very best.  Here's your chance to properly pamper yours alongside Rob.  

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One final heed.  Sleeping buck naked obviously demands a more regimented approach to bedsheet laundering, therefore ESPECIALLY IF you don't sleep alone, be considerately Cinderellaish about not allowing more than one week to pass before installing fresh linens.

Here's to a phenomenal NEW YEAR!  God bless.

Lagniappe

Discovery / Narrative, Arousal = Architecture Of Sexuality VS. Longings / Triggers, Fetishes = Mobile Homes Of Lust

"I don't know much about art, but I know what I like."  [This is horseshit.]

Architecture, by definition, wouldn't exist were it not for critics.  Critics use their fine-tuned, scholarly adjudication skillset and from there, communicate to the masses what and why a building qualifies as architecture.  And they do this as an outpouring of their zeal for standout, outstandingly designed buildings.  Buildings which seemingly capture volumetric space in a masterful way (architect = master builder).

A worthwhile architectural critic, by definition, is exceedingly knowledgeable of their subject.  It's this knowledge that allows their critique to carry so much weight.

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Guys who find themselves within Samson Society typically fall into the category of sexuality aficionados.  I would argue many of these men entered into crisis (pre-Samson Society) of some sort due to their individual passion for sex colliding with their (in very simplified terms) longstanding / life-long isolated state (inability to find helpful knowledge / understanding therein).  

Religion undoubtedly can play a role in this cataclysm (the majority of Samson guys are Christians).  As such, I would argue that this then knowledge / understanding vacuum will occur alongside the false accusation that "No one else within the church is experiencing nor is as interested in sexuality as you are...FrEaK".  [This too is horseshit.]

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Porn, phone sex, hook-up & circle jerk roulette sites all provide pitifully unreliable information regarding sex, yet it's devoured by these men. Why?  Ease of private accessibility.  Too, (if they choose to take this step) transactional sexual relations (strip clubs, massage parlors, prostitution) further their woefully biased / distorted thinking.  Why?  Ease of private accessibility. 

And all of this internalization of such their favorite topic eventually manifests ruts within their minds.  Call them fetishes or triggers.  They're deep valleys within their grey matter equating to salacious comfort food of the ultra-processed Wal-Mart impulse-buy caliber.  

Hence, it's cheap, deadly fare.  Would you choose to dine out of a trash heap for each and every meal?  It's important to remember that although this is the least healthy means to find caloric sustenance, it's still sustenance.

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There has to be a healthy way for men - who're like us - to gain needed knowledge regarding sexuality in line with their individual discovery / narrative leading towards arousal.  

Now, what am I referring to when I say, "men like us"?  Go back to what I wrote earlier within this post.  

I'm referring to men who're passionate about sex and therefore deliberately ruminate on it.  Within the same vein as guys who're similarly passionate about other topics of interest such as cars, hunting, video games and so forth.  

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To become an architect, one must be taught via schooling then internship.  That, combined with the assumed extensive knowledge relative to building construction, go hand in hand.  But first & foremost, the individual must be a built-environment aficionado.  Otherwise, there's no zeal to motivate / discipline the man through the maturation process of learning.  

It's an arduous process that's not for the faint of heart.  Requiring time, dedication and a willingness to develop one's own rudimentary beliefs / narrative (ability to see) whilst embracing the high standards of qualified architectural design. 

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Where are plenty of men who've mastered their sexuality / sexual narrative, therefore what exactly should they be doing for the young men within the church / Christian circles who're secret sexual aficionados - perhaps as they too may be?

How do these young sexual aficionados reveal themselves to potential trusted mentors who've clearly mastered their sexuality / sexual narrative?

What exactly does that mentorship look like between this older and younger man?  How much of it is executed via example / posture versus specific instruction?

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At our church, besides the youth pastor, there's typically both a male and female youth intern.  Think of these co-ed interns as assistant youth pastors.  One of our recent (he's since moved away / out of that position) male youth interns took two teenage brothers under his noble wing.  These young men came from a less than ideal familial setup, but both of them were respectfully close (to each other) in line with their dedication to our church's youth program.  Independent, confident, physically impressive, demure.  These were all descriptors perfectly suited to these young men. 

Because of these boys' unconventional family setup combined with their undeniable masculine (stoic combined with physical) presence, engaging with them could be intimidating.  Particularly considering how fiercely protective they were relative to their out-of-the-ordinary household roots. 

But this male youth intern was as equally masculine / physically impressive, and therefore not in the least dissuaded from putting in the effort needed to befriend these young men.  In fact, the running joke within the youth group was this intern could easily win the role for the next silver screen version of the renowned X-men, Wolverine (Hugh Jackman's breakout role).

So, what are the odds that one of these brothers is a sex aficionado like you and I are?  What are the odds both are, particularly considering the stress placed on them via their aforementioned unconventional familial setup?

I'd say they're pretty good odds.

The most heartfelt development regarding this tale is how this mentorship / big brother role that our church's youth intern bravely embraced ultimately wielded a romance.  A romance between (the next) Wolverine and the two brothers' older sister (she's in college).

During our Christmas Eve service, I could see (from the choir loft) Wolverine seated on the end of the pew next to his lovely significant other (the brothers' sister).  Then there was mom and dad and finally, the two brothers, on the opposite end.

It made my heart swell.

The notion that this powerfully influential mentor could potentially become these two boys' brother-in-law literally took my breath away.  How cool is that?

Most of us didn't have the experience I've described here.  No youth intern (or otherwise) mentor to come alongside us sexuality aficionados.  Nevertheless, read on.

Lagniappe

Communication (Within Samson Society) Is A Key To Success

Saturday, (10/7) is slated to be the day Mr. Nate Larkin hosts the second official "Samson Society Meeting Host Training" via Zoom.  The first one occurred back in February of this year.  Throughout all my years of involvement within Samson Society (since August 2014), there's been nada training for meeting hosts.  Hence, this is a surprising, very exciting change that's immensely helpful to all of us involved.

Digital communications really took off within Samson Society in April of 2018 with the launch of the monthly emailed publication, "The No Bull Briefing".  This is an easy to read, snapshot newsletter that captures / informs really well.

But as of late, digital communications have been much more repetitious (there's been numerous emailed robo-emails touting the forthcoming 2023 National Samson Society Retreat).  These are all unique, fresh splash announcements that are eye-catching / engaging.  

Communication is a key to success.

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A summarization of Samson Society resources (w/ hyperlinks):

Sustaining Member Sign Up:

https://www.samsonhouse.org/member-registration

Sustaining Member Sign Up Password: NoBullBrotherhood

Giving:

https://samsonsociety.com/help-us-reach-more-men/

Sarah Society:

https://sarahsociety.com/

Samson Store:

https://samsonswag.squarespace.com/

National Retreat 2023:

https://samsonhouse.regfox.com/samson-society-summit-2023

No Bull Briefing and Daily Encouragement Registration:

https://signup.e2ma.net/signup/1891992/1898197/

Pirate Monk Podcast:

https://samsonsociety.podbean.com/

National Suicide Hotline: US: 988 (Call or Text)

Canada: Call 1-866-585-0445 OR Text WELLNESS to 741741

Communication is a key to success.