Want To Improve Uptake Within The Virtual Samson Community? Provide An Incubator / Immersive Experience Vs Dedicated Newcomer Meetings

I've been hosting a Samson Society Saturday newcomers meeting for almost two years now.  It's been demanding but in a very good way.  I took this particular spot from the man himself, Mr. Nate Larkin.  The highlight of hosting this meeting is it kickstarts my weekend with fresh, masculine personas.  And I love this!  Not knowing who's going to show up, it feels whimsical and a bit surreal, in manner ways.  The stories, via the 2-10 newbies that show, shared are rich and deeply impactful.  It's just overall, a grand experience.

But what's disappointing, after the fact, is the true uptake (long-term engagement) of these newbies towards Samson Society itself.  

How do I know this?  I call to check in on my newbies one week following the meeting they attend.  The vast majority either don't respond to my follow-up or admit freely to not having taken the initiative to attend even one online meeting.

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What exactly happens within a newcomers meeting?

Every meeting (there're standalone newcomers meeting available most days of the week) is hosted by its own, uniquely qualified, Samson brother.  As such, their persona / agenda flows forth.  And that's to be expected.  

My hero, Nate, provided a one-time walkthrough for Rob prior to me taking the reins of the Saturday meeting years ago.  I've certainly worked to optimize my approach to leading, and frankly, I believe I do a damn good job providing an overview of the Samson Society whilst drawing out / establishing the proper tone that points towards the community as a whole.

But even my best attempts to clinically (sprinkled with some therapy) describe Samson Society falls flat compared to a true therapeutic Samson meeting immersion.  For as we call know, that's where the true magic happens.

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Within the in-person paradigm (Samson Society meeting), there's no newcomers' meeting "screening process".  Instead, newbies simply (after typically being referred in) walk into a meeting and follow along.  It's not rocket science, and it doesn't make room for skittishness / the timid - to any degree.  

Think of it like stepping into a church service for the first time or perhaps a gym.  As an adult with zero experience.  From there, it's either sink or swim.  As such, it's the motivator (most often shame) that's in control.

And I like that approach, but why not instead establish some similar incubator / immersion Samson meetings that are specifically designed for these men?  In other words, put newcomers together with some seasoned Samson brothers, thereby allowing them to learn / experience Samson Society sans the training wheels of a newcomers meeting.

As such, this would be an exact facsimile of the in-person experience (which works beautifully)! 

Weirdo Commitment

The most disappointing Samson "National Retreat" for Rob was one of the first, if not the first, I ever attended.  The year was likely 2017, and it was during the autumn month of November.  The setting was a state park in middle Tennessee (not too far outside of Nashville).  Originally, this "National Retreat" was touted as a "Samson leadership retreat" with the focus being Samson brothers interested in / currently hosting meetings.  

The reason for this was the primary focus of this particular national Samson event was to introduce the notion of launching virtual Samson meetings via Zoom or whatever platform was available back in the day (2018).  

The disappointment came from who I ended up having to room with (we were housed in a motel wing that was attached to the State Park Lodge building).  At the very last minute, a certain in-person Samson brother agreed to attend (at the behest of my Silas), and off the four of us went.  Upon our arrival, I swallowed my anger and compliantly chose to room with this loser.

It's actually quite commendable that I ever returned after this frustrating National Samson Retreat.  Especially considering that everyone else within the local Samson community hung up their hats - mostly for good - pertaining to this annual event.  Which, of course, left me on my own to attend throughout the years going forward.  

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Over the past two years, I've taken control of my roommate situation (I gave up on the bunkhouses in '23), but last year resulted in me quickly realizing that year two would be it for me and a similarly unique (weirdo) Samson brother (from the Deep South) sharing sleeping quarters.

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4-5 years ago, a dear friend (he being more close to me than I to him) from GA drove over to Eva, TN, having agreed to attend that year's National Retreat.  He chose to stay offsite in some sort of state park cabin.  I came to find out later that he spent the majority of his time at the cabin texting / talking to his wife in light of him being far more comfortable with her than (strange, foreign) Samson guys (or really any guys, for that matter).  What a disappointment it was to find that out.

Nonetheless, we remained friends until earlier this year.

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When I was a high school student, I was active in our church's youth ministry.  And I was so because I immediately understood its finite specialness (very, very few adolescents had access to what I was privileged to be a part of).  Therefore, every summer, attending the youth summer trip was nonnegotiable for Rob.  Specifically, I did this because I knew there were only so many opportunities therein.  Because I was such the anomaly within that group (persona, school, demographic), I often ended up assigned to summer trip room with the other freaks.  And I grew to love it.  They were so much fun to bunk with!  Plus, there's simply always been a place in my heart for the inevitable weirdos.

My wife was one of those.  That's one of the many reasons I was attracted to her as both a friend and a lover.  She was just so weird (& thankfully still is).

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At last year's Summit, in light of my then desire to find "a new roommate direction" going forward, I took it upon myself to plan WELL IN ADVANCE of '26 by hastily asking a new friend (who I met during the first day at the NM Summit) about rooming together in '26.  What was hysterical regarding this desperate attempt was my new friend was an exceedingly obvious cool kid (great looking, upper class demographic, straight, etc.) who was not at all comfortable committing as such so far in advance (much less with Rob)!

Thankfully, earlier this year, my (weirdo!) Silas agreed to take this big man on campus' position.  This will amount to such the blessing.  

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I'm excited too about visiting Michigan.  I love and have almost always loved automobiles.  Visiting Motor City will no doubt be a treat in that regard.  Too, traveling through Ann Arbor (home of Car & Driver) will be special and symbolic.  

Attending the Samson Summit this year will represent a true leveling up for Rob.  Partly because Samson is at a juncture that's destined to position itself well for another decade (at least), and having embraced the virtual community to the degree that I have (since December '21), I feel 100% "part of the team" versus the gay guy from Mississippi who's only involved due to his internal dedication / commitment.

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A month or so ago, I had a Samson brother decouple from me as his Silas.  And though that's not unusual / inevitable, due to our VERY short tenure as Silas / Silee, I have to admit that it was jarring.  And especially so from the standpoint that I'd been experiencing (immediately prior to his decoupling) an annual (vocational) stress / shame conundrum (2+2=5).  

This brother was no doubt hiding something to have aborted, but it still felt like a "this is all my fault" gut punch.  Silas / Silee relations need to gestate properly in order for the true benefits / measured latitudes to be reaped.  Nonetheless, between the two of us, that simply wasn't to be. 

Last night, out of the blue, I was asked to be the Silas of a man I haven't spoke with since late summer.  He happened to be part of one of my newcomers meeting "classrooms" earlier this year, and though we'd only had one follow up meeting (at my request due to his unique roots), there was zero commitment going forward.  And this young man is absolutely out of my league, yet due to my sincerity / care, that seems to be of no consequence.  As such, I'm hopeful going forward for connecting with a man who's that much potential truly is breathtaking to think through.

I'm very blessed to be a part of this parachurch ministry.  It's very exhausting but never not worth it.  For me, it truly feels / demands similarly as family does.  

Cruelty Fetish

Back during my architecting (private sector) days (1995-2006), I worked for a midsize firm in Jackson, and it was there where I eventually found myself somewhat under the tutelage of a semi-retired architect who'd been hired as the "quality control" man.  This elder statesman's job originally was to check construction documents for accuracy / coordination issues.  Simple as that.

He seemed kindly and adroit at first glance with his diminutive, pot-belly scale, false teeth & mop of silver hair neatly parted to one side.  Always wearing slacks, a dress shirt & tie, Mr. T, as he was quickly dubbed, had an appearance that did absolutely nothing to antagonize / draw concern.  Instead, he was the type of Medicare man figure who easily could've passed for either a charity hospital baby rocker or perhaps a clean-shaven, pretending-to-be-an-architect Saint Nick.  Approachable to a fault.  Shy, demure.  Meek?  Hardly.

As such, everyone (the vast majority of which were dramatically younger) couldn't help but appreciate him almost immediately.  I mean, what's not to like?

But I could smell doo doo even at our first juncture, and it really bothered me that others couldn't.

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I've done my fair share of therapeutic work centered around my parents (who hasn't within the Samson Society community?).  During my young adult years (1994), that was mainly centered around how the dynamics within their marriage / our youthful "triad" (I'm an only child) family impacted my development (or lack thereof) as a masculine man (my focus, back then was primarily internal).  Thankfully though, none of that work detailed one iota of cruel / hateful dealings (towards me nor anyone else).  That simply wasn't nor has ever been baked into my parents' modus operandi.  As such, they're many things but not that.

Nonetheless, my grandmother (on my father's side) could have been the poster child for cruel & hateful (particularly in the '60s), and she felt zero regret therein.  Similarly, my mother-in-law (& to a degree father-in-law) were situated within the same boat.

So what exactly am I referring to when I say cruel and hateful?

These are folks who relish watching others suffer.  Particularly others of their own race / creed / demographic, and suffering of the type that's public / semi-public.  But too, allowing themselves similar "fun" / satisfaction by turning their attention to the marginalized isn't out of the question.  Therefore, gossip, for folks like this, is like fine wine.  Hence, working (corporate / public sector), socializing (Country Club), churching (mega), even watching the nightly news (Cable TV) naturally reap multiple hits:  high earnings, esteem, ticket out of Hell, the latest juicy talk & prepackaged stories of the downtrodden. 

But beyond gossip, there's the cruely-fueled (versus curious) gawking, which typically must be done covertly if one's supposedly a good Christian.

All-in-all, envy may very well be what's motivating this particular dark heartedness but not necessarily.  Instead, perhaps it's simply a sick fetish.  

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What's truly noteworthy is one of Mr. T.'s daughters grew to become a superstar sports architect not too long after starting her own career in the same field (far & away from her humble origins in Mississippi).  Therefore, not only due to her gender but also due to her resilient relevancy within that space, I'm reminded (quite often, in fact) of her legendary ballpark / urban planning creative juices as they continue to further the notion of Americana (the great American pastime) whilst filling the pocketbooks of the team owners from one end of the country to the other. 

Having never had any interest in sports, I could care less about sports venues no matter the nostalgia factor / apple pie historical relevance.  And, arguably, most architects are in agreement with Rob that anything associated with the word "team" is an outright bore.  

But the public disagrees.  For sports arenas are akin to the representative cathedrals of yesteryear.

Nevertheless, just this week, my father slipped a copy of a features piece (that had no doubt come out of some recent periodical) detailing (yet again) Mr. T's infamous superstar sports architect daughter (she's in her mid to late 60s now), surmising the story, yet again, of her humble beginnings + origin story as the de facto baseball arena design consultant go-to on planet Earth.  

And yet again, my thoughts immediately turned back to what I remember of her father.  Vividly remember of her father.  And this is sad to admit to for she actually came to my aforementioned employer (adjacent to an end-of-the-year holiday) and gave a short presentation regarding her current stadium project.  

That's what I'd like to remember for that's what the press' appropriately celebratory work should be doing.

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Mr. T's office was adjacent to the "drafting room" (which is where I had a desk for 3-5 years of my tenure therein) within the firm we both worked for.  The space he'd been given to work wasn't large at all, but it did have enough room (barely) for a standard sized metal desk.  Within just a few years, every inch of said space was filled (including his desktop), almost halfway to the 8'-0" ceiling with "half-size" sets of "in progress" construction documents.  These sets were his to "redline".  This was his way of denoting errors that needed addressing.  

Mr. T's approach to quality control really had nothing to do with whoever's justification it was in hiring him.  Instead, it had everything to do with him justifying his own value as a golden year professional who'd really never made much of any mark on the profession nor the localized built environment (for whatever reason).  This was his private chip.

Architects are trained to be visionaries.  "Master builders" as they say.  Our entire pedagogy is constructed under the guise of enlightening society via our masterful (designed) control of the built environment, Renaissance man flair & (typically) high altitude liberal mindedness.  

Therefore, considering his training, Mr. T, could not help but turn his focus on us as his site / canvas.  I assume this was his attempt at a last hoorah within a perfectly imperfect (remember, we were quite young & inexperienced) petri dish of professionals (interns & otherwise) who were simply attempting to meet deadlines whilst placating clients / contractors along the way.

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And, of course, we're all cruel and hateful at times.  It's baked into our DNA as sinners, but there truly are some human beings that are deeply cruelty-averse.  

One of the favorite aspects of my parents is their revulsion therein.  I have to wonder if seeing my grandmother's ongoing / attituded cruelty somehow served to inoculate them both from her influence.

Those Collective Exhale Moments

When certain Samson brothers walk away from this community, no doubt, everyone can breathe a little easier.  And you know exactly who I'm referring to.  Those emotionally volatile guys.  The ones that make great soap opera characters but not so much real friends.

And thankfully, there aren't too many of these odd-men-out within this community, but they are there.  For now...

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Level-headedness (fueled by humility) is one of those guaranteed traits Christian men need to thrive, long-term, within communities like Samson Society.  

But many men aren't anywhere close to level-headed much less humble.  Instead, their (heated) emotions (particularly when they're tired / bored) take over.  When that occurs, most everyone takes notice, especially so when it's an inappropriate / childish response.  And that's when the distancing begins in earnest.  

Of course, distancing isn't an attribute found within a thriving Christian community of men.  

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I witnessed this firsthand during a sophomore Spring Samson retreat (in-person Samson community) at / around Highlands, NC many years ago.  One brother was always looking for an opportunity to "flare up" so long as said opportunity had one particular Samson brother's name attached to it.  Think of this dynamic within the same vein as a sibling rivalry.  And eventually, it got ugly between these two.  And from there, everyone's point of view changed.

My naivete cloistered this incident as isolated.  Boy was I ever wrong.  

Please Touch Me (Now With Feeling)!

I've been volunteering this week as a "Group Leader / Guide" at our church's Summer '26 Vacation Bible School.  I've done this - at various churches - in years past, but only when VBS was a "traditional" AM event.

Firstly, let me just say that I'm so pleased to see so many young men volunteering compared to when this event was traditionally in the AM.  It's amazing to see ALL of the boys' groups being led by men (most of which are much younger than Rob).  This is absolute win-win for both the boys and young men.  

Because of my sabbatical (rebellion?) - so to speak - from volunteering over the past 3-4 years, I can't help but feel like a pariah, having returned a bit hesitantly (my youngest daughter is volunteering in kind).  As such, earlier this week in particular, I really, really, really longed to be affirmed via touch by some of these other men.  Perhaps a shoulder or neck squeeze?  Anyone?  Anyone?

Nope.  (& keep in mind all of them know me - primarily via my daughter.)

Instead, I got a few stupid fist bumps as well as simple, haphazardly placed smacks across the upper back (with backhands).

And the latter was from a man I've known (& haven't seen regularly in many, many years) for close to a decade.  A man who I've (recently) intentionally walked with through three of the most challenging pastoral years of his life.

*Sigh*

Why?

Like most men within our church, there's no greater fear than being labeled a queer.  Hence, they all drive full-size pickups, wear their ballcaps backwards & never, ever touch other men in a way that might qualify them as such.

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Therefore, I sit quietly and watch the clock whilst attempting to ignore the desire for masculine touch.  Strong, intentional, affirming touch.  I so needed it.  As such, whilst not receiving it, I only felt like that much more of a freak.  (Surely, it's not just me!?!)

The irony is the four boys I'm overseeing / leading (3rd / 5th graders) are just as overall physical as any / all elementary-age boys ever were.  They're constantly vying for space by pushing / shoving.  In fact, they became so physically unruly at one point last night that I had to usher them out of the "Science Lab" space prematurely (by about 10 minutes) and back into the vacant Sanctuary (Worship Center) to await the evening's VBS dismissal.  

Did this bother them in the least?  Nope.  For they only continued exhausting their frustrations via their furious hand grabbing / physical posturing right there in the pew.

And it shouldn't have bothered them.  For they needed that physicality to exert / exhaust their boredom / pent up emotional energy healthily (by this point in these boys' full days it was getting quite close to bedtime).

Had they been girls, the "punishment / consequences" (mini-quarantine) that I brought upon them would have manifested embarrassment / shame resulting in deathly quiet demeanors / silent tears driven by fear (WILL HE TELL OUR PARENTS?).  

Why?

Girls are taught early on to suck up their frustrations / boredom, and I would argue, most do not have nearly the wellspring of physical energy that boys do.

It's sad to think that very soon, these boys' playfulness will be culturally lassoed in kind.  Cultural norms / demands will stare their parents directly in the face.  And those demands will strike fear in their hearts by whispering:

"For goodness sakes, whatever you do, don't let him turn out queer."

And that's when everything will change.

Why Are There So Many Churches In Mississippi?

I had the privilege to attend a baptismal service this AM, and it was a delight to witness.  There were four new converts to Christianity that were baptized:  my female (professional) friend who's around 35 years of age, a preadolescent boy, a late 20s female and early 30s male.  Both of the women were relatively new moms, each married (their husbands were present, one of which was baptized).  All four were baptized out of doors in a "horse trough" adjacent to the modest churchhouse. 

And speaking of the churchhouse, it was a dump.  Picture a prefabricated metal building with an outdated (color) brick veneer front facade.  If I had to guess, it was erected / constructed sometime in the '70s or '80s perhaps as a small flooring showroom or somesuch.  The Jackson Metro area this church resides in is zoned industrial, but as is often the case in Mississippi, when a building sits vacant within these enclaves for any length of time, owners will do just about anything to sell (in order to avoid the continual burden of property taxes).  But, in order to make a sale palatable to church bodies, zoning laws must either be "updated" or exemptions granted.   

The parishioners present were 98% white, and there were around fifty overall in attendance.  And yes, you're correct to assume that the pastor was bi-vocational, and what a sweet, kindhearted white man this was!

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One of my daughters is slated to be baptized prior to the end of '25.  The church that she's a member of is part of a denomination that's well represented in Mississippi, and the church itself (member count) is likely 15-20 times larger than the church I attended this AM.

If you were to chronicle all of the churches in Mississippi today, 90% of them would fall in between these two extremes, and the remaining few would consist of a very small quantity of multi-site mega churches and the ever fluid collection of house churches.

Churches, churches, churches.  They're everywhere in Mississippi, but the vast majority, I believe, are best represented via the one I spent two hours in this AM.  Why?

Shame.

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Mississippi is a state overflowing with shame-filled folks.  Some of that shame is rooted in simply being Mississippians, but the vast majority of it finds its origins in individuals' histories.  

A local friend of mine has parents who both divorced (from their first spouses) prior to marrying each other / reproducing.  These folks are highly educated / intelligent Christians who're VERY WELL ESTABLISHED / INFLUENTIAL within their (my) community (well loved by all who come in fortunate contact with them).  Their modus operandi for dealing with the shame from those initial (obviously very short-lived) divorces was to bury it, therefore they never divulged it to their children (& somehow they strong-armed their families to do the same).  

Isn't that weird?  Perhaps.  But, in many ways, I kinda think they were wise.  For their children / grandchildren have excelled.

Nonetheless, if you were to meet these wonderful Christian people, you'd NO IDEA they had any shame surrounding that portion of their individual histories whatsoever.

But they're the exception.

Almost everyone else in the Magnolia State gets seriously mired down in the deep seated collateral damage that coincides with regrettable portions of their lives.  It's simply baked into our humanity. 

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My wife and I have worked hard to teach our kidlets about the permanency / weight of stupidity (stupid is a verb) and how it can seemingly forever undermine one's sense of self worth.  And mostly this teaching has been via our commitment to each other / them through their impressionable childhoods.  

For we wouldn't mind them getting baptized in the church I attended this AM, but only if they're choosing to do so is well justified.  

Tiny, dumpy churches mostly exist for deeply ashamed Mississippians.  These folks will forgo (for themselves & their dependents) the bountiful resources available to them within larger, more established (denominatory) churches simply due to the fact that they're convinced that they're too dirty to belong / feel comfortable there.

Let me repeat that:

Tiny, dumpy churches mostly exist for deeply ashamed Mississippians.  These folks will forgo (for themselves & their dependents) the bountiful resources available to them within larger, more established (denominatory) churches simply due to the fact that they're convinced that they're too dirty to belong / feel comfortable there.

Think of it this way.  It's like white people thinking like black people when it comes to their church home.  

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In conclusion, I wonder if this same negative, shame-filled outlook is what motivates pastors (like the one who officiated this morning's baptismal service) to forgo attending seminary (or at times, any form of higher education for that matter) in light of simply "winging it" from their homely pulpits.  I mean, it's not like these men are dumbasses.  If you're going to do any form of preaching / pastoring, you certainly can't be low intelligence.  Therefore, seminary / higher ed is certainly an option for them, yet they choose to not move in that direction.

Therefore, absolutely, these pastors can absolutely be collaterally damaged.  Seriously damaged.  I've seen it (some of these men are involved in Samson Society).  

Shame is the second most powerful force on planet Earth.  Masculinity is the first.  How different Mississippi would look if we could simply get a grip on our shame.

Consuming Strife, Perpetuating Envy & Ultimately Relegating Tribalism (Your Washing Machine Jerusalem)

As humans, we're hard pressed to not become more and more biased / cliquish as we age.  Why?

Advancing forward year to year inevitably compiles situational biases as life is lived out.  And even the most high-spirited of us, whilst cornered, will divulge their private prejudices (if oh so subtlety).  

How might one resist this inevitability / slow down it's wane (infection) on our grey matter?

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I believe your greatest weapon against this is curiosity.  A true commitment to staying genuinely curious towards other human beings, their lives and viewpoints.  And this curiosity must be a driver of questions, and definitely NOT to incriminate by proving contrast (between yourself & someone else) but instead as my young friend Bobby would wield it.

Bobby is the son of one of our church elders.  He's in his late 20s, but has the intelligence / emotional maturity of a 10-12 year old.  As such, life for him is fresh and new every day because he doesn't have the intelligence (confidence / obliqueness / memory) of an adult.  And Bobby isn't one of these shy "kids".  Instead, he's vibrant and full of life, constantly on the edge of a demure adolescent outlook though never achieving that milestone.  

Bobby never meets a stranger, and if he has any inkling that someone's willing to engage with him, he's going to work hard to satiate his curiosity by interrogating.  But due to him having the outlook of a 10-12 year old, it's readily apparent that there's no underlying self-seeking motive within his approach.  Instead, he's genuinely programmed to learn (what his limited brain will allow), and though it can be disconcerting at times to always be on the receiving end of that, Bobby's approach stands to reason for me as a Christian.

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Removing oneself from social media is another step towards maintaining a point of view that's centered on wholesale love in its purest form.

Westerners wholeheartedly put their faith in corporations.  Moreso than in any other institution (think government, family).  And this faith is very difficult to shake unless longstanding corporate brands begin to habitually disappoint and therefore lose their coveted brand luster.

Technology companies, due to the almost miraculously sophisticated work they do, gain and maintain corporate credence much faster than their Blue Chip brethren.  For a software application / online "world" appears light years more mystical than a washing machine or automobile.  

Therefore, we get lazy as consumers and hooked into "worshipping at the thrones" of these massively overvalued social media companies by giving them enormous amounts of attention / time.  Attention / time with digital creations that our minds simply weren't designed to handle / engage with sans tremendously negative influence.  For social media's one purpose is to generate strife / dissonance amongst its users (primarily through envy).  And this strife isn't, of course, face-to-face.  Instead, it's one step removed since it's solely catalogued online where avatars represent and, in turn, tribes are reinforced.

Are there good intentions behind many of those who engage in social media?  I think so.  But social media's main goal is to deeply hook with the one goal of "learning" as much as they can catalog about their billions of users.  For this data is very, very valuable in terms of actively manipulating via advertising.  

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When you purchase a washing machine, you bring it home, plug it into the wall and start washing clothes.  It's a closed loop transaction.  If the machine performs / holds up to your satisfaction, you may choose to purchase another from the same corporation years into the future.  As such, there's a clear divide between you and the corporation since your decision to buy was one and done.

Imagine a washing machine that's free and seemingly the most sophisticated available, but since it costs you nothing, the corporation that provided it has full discretion to gather all manner of data about its use by your catalogued household.  And that corporation readily sells that data to other corporate entities from every conceivable corner of the free enterprise system.  At the same time, the clothes you wash in the machine (along with all the inevitable soiling therein) become entangled / enmeshed (& vice versa) in light of your chosen washing machine Jerusalem.   

Hence, if you've got a ton of dirty laundry to clean, that amounts to an awful lot of granular details being loosed into the plumbing at various pressurized degrees.  Inevitably, your clothes, because they're "communal cleaned", don't look nor wear as they did prior to washing, and that's due to the residue / bleed over that's impossible to avoid with the free washing machine / its communally plumbed system.

But over time, and due to the (seemingly overnight) billions of free washing machine user base, you quickly grow into wearing clothes that look, feel and smell like everyone else's (solely within your Jerusalem, right?).  For they're "everywhere / being worn by everybody".

And, oh my goodness, let's not forget that the washing machine is free!

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Earlier this year, I had dinner with my aforementioned, low intelligence friend, Bobby.  Unfortunately, my work day (it was a Friday) was the absolute worst it's ever been (since coming to work for my parents in 2013).  How I wish, in light of this, that I'd simply postponed our time together.

But instead, I followed through, meeting Bobby as we'd planned in spite of my foul mood.

In light of my frustrating day, my tongue became sharper and sharper throughout the meal.  I cut Bobby down easily with my cruel quips / "observations".  

As you can imagine, my friend is easily confused by any form of sarcasm.  As such, if he's a target to enough of it, he'll quickly shut down in frustration.  By the time I had him back to his parents' abode, he was sealed tight (lipped).  

From there, I drove to the Y (for an early evening swim) feeling like such the louse.  For I knew that juncture would change the course of our friendship forever.

Yet, come Sunday morning, Bobby immediately made a beeline to Rob in order to let me know how he'd forgiven me for being such the asshole two days prior.

I remember thinking it was too soon.  And it was.  But Bobby valued the friendship / relationship more than his feelings.  In other words, he put those aside - immediately - in light of lost time / opportunity if our friendship were to completely go south.  

And I realize Bobby isn't a typical late 20s adult.  Nonetheless, I can learn from him and his approach both as a curious bug and a forgiving, faithful companion.  

As such, this is what I know.  I must remember too steer clear of situational strife (to the best of my ability) prior to engaging with him or others in light of my tendency to be influenced negatively therein.  For it truly does bleed over / change me, for the worse, from the inside out.

The Very Hard Work Of Fathering Myself

The most difficult first step in learning to father yourself is to admit you must take on this position.  In other words, one must come to grips with the fact that there ain't no older male (bio or otherwise) that's going to step up on your behalf.  And that's depressing to process.  Especially if you're deeply desiring to be fathered / are cognizant of the fact of the benefits therein.  

And, of course, when it comes to being fathered, time is of essence.  Otherwise, serious missteps may very well result as you inevitably mature forward (physically, at least).  

What's even more depressing to process is when you actually have a bio father that's present in your life + you're his only child, and still, no (decidedly intentional) fathering occurs. 

To summarize, fathering or being fathered is having an older male come alongside with the intention of demonstrating firsthand disciplined techniques / methodologies for bettering oneself.  And this bettering can fall into categories of physical, emotional, spiritual.  But here's the kicker:  this man is demonstrating in line with both his recognition and intimate knowledge of the younger man.

One quick sidetone before I get into the meat of this post.  When I was in middle school (a true low point - as it is for so many boys - in my boyhood), my mom was a part-time bookkeeper at an aerobics studio (it was the '80s) in northeast Jackson.  The studio had two sizable workout rooms (cut pile peachy / pink-colored carpet!), one of which was utilized for Shotokan karate classes twice weekly.  My best friend & me were initial students of this class, and our Sensei, Mr. Terry V., was the most respectful, kindhearted father figure (outside of my dad) I'd known up to that time.  And it's important to know that Mr. V. advocated for Rob via encouragement and opportunity.  He was such the masculine asset for such a disheartening time as that. 

Nevertheless, a neighborhood bully (his mom also worked at the studio) showed up one day, and before I knew it, both he and his best friend (who was just as intimidating) became regular students.  Every opportunity Scott had to posture / mock me, he seized, therefore it didn't take long for me to quit outright.  

What's truly unfortunate about this outcome has to do with the absence of any patriarchal involvement.  For my dad had to have been privy to the 12 months+ that I'd invested in my studies of Shotokan karate (I believe I was a green belt when I chose to quit).  Yet, he never got involved in attempting to help me deal with this thorny situation.  Neither by dialoguing with my Sensei, the bully's parents (who were our backdoor neighbors) or me.  Instead, it was as if I didn't have a dad at all.

I feel it's important to include that tale in light of how influential Mr. Terry V. truly was in my life.  Until he no longer was.  

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For Rob, even at an early age, I knew that my dad simply wasn't capable of fathering me (or any other child) holistically.  He was understandably emotionally immature when he became my dad (age 19) first & foremost.  But moreso as a result of his youth for my dad was never fathered himself.  Instead, he was reared by a violent drunk 'till that monster (thankfully) died from lung cancer immediately prior to my father reaching adolescence.  

As such, my dad had two obstacles he was up against.  

1.  The vacuum created by not being fathered himself

2.  The immense trauma that resulted directly from his own father's physical / emotional abuse

In essence, #1 drove his ignorance while #2 drove his fear (of treating his own son as he was treated).

Thankfully, my father was a teetotaler.  Therefore, booze never played into how he behaved within our household.  

Now, let me insert one truth here.  My father very much did choose to father me in regard to making church attendance a priority (for our family).  And not just worship services but Bible study.  This especially became the case as I approached my upper elementary school years and beyond.  For both of my parents had quite the appetites, at this stage in their lives, for high quality spiritual food.  As such, First Baptist Church Jackson served as their buffet. 

He also made a concerted effort to incorporate Bible study into a routine within our home, though in hindsight, all it truly amounted to was me reading scripture (to my parents) for a few minutes before bedtime.

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One of the most telling episodes that I had with my dad as an adult (within a clinical setting) resulted in him attempting to defend his position as a "thoroughbred fathering father" due to his allegiance / admiration for Dr. James Dobson (a massively influential Christian media persona in the '80s).  I vividly recall him faithfully listening to Dobson's radio show combined with purchasing most, if not all, of his many books.  

I suppose this did qualify my dad to receive an "A" for effort.  But as you know, if you're unable / unwilling to apply helpful commentary to your own way of doing things, there's likely a lot going on under the surface that's needing to be addressed. 

Therefore, I believe he knew, deep down, just how out of his league he truly was.  I just wish he'd admitted (or at least hinted) to it from the get go instead of allowing his ego to elevate himself "respectfully".  

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To expound on what I said earlier:

Fathering is essentially modeling / demonstrating what a man is capable of so long as he's disciplined and confident.  

Christian fathering is essentially modeling / demonstrating what a man is capable of doing, for Christ, so long as he's disciplined and confident in what he believes as a Christ follower.  

I was looking for the latter, for as I stated in my post titled "Being A Contrarian", the gospel lassoed me in around age 12.

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I began taking baby steps towards fathering myself by committing to a strength training regimen during my 5th (& last) year of architecture school.  At the time, I was in my early 20s, and all I had access to was beginner (youth) equipment (that had been purchased at Service Merchandise when I was in high school).  

How was this fathering myself, exactly?

Firstly, it's important to note that I was officially crossing over into emotional / spiritual manhood at this stage of my life.  Had that not been the case, there would not have been any means for me to take these initial fathering-myself steps.

Through some concentrated research and study (I found a book at Barnes & Noble), I devised a plan.  From there, I took it one day at a time.  Weeks became months, and before I knew it, I was seeing my body become more muscular (thanks too to my metabolism also slowing down around this same time).  

I remember my mom's BFF coming by my parents' abode to drop something off (where I was living during 5th year), and me answering the door shirtless.  Seeing her reaction (& her later relaying her admiration of my hard work to my mom) did wonders for my confidence.   

Fast forward to today.  When I'm at the Y strength training, and I see a father / son duo working together to lift, I always let the father know how fortunate his son is to have this kind of oversight / hands-on attention.

So, you might be asking how strength training syncs with Christian fathering.  The body is the temple of the Holy Spirit.  Taking care of that temple is in line with God's will.  And specifically for me, with all my issues with THE VOID, I especially need(ed) to invest, at the very least, in the part of myself that I could see (reflection).

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Fathering myself really kicked into high gear when I had the privilege of stepping into Samson Society back in 2014.  For the intentionality of attending meetings / after meetings and engaging one-on-one with so many in-crisis men demonstrated my commitment to my faith as well as my love for myself to my younger (internal) self each and every week.     

Decades prior to this, I had jumped at any chance presented to me to be included within Bible studies for young(er) men.  And I did this in hopes of having the opportunity to be seen (I never really was either due to my lack of confidence or the unwillingness of my peers to look hard).  

But even outside of the spiritual, when opportunity knocked for me to be challenged (leadership) via roles that would provide an opportunity to demonstrate Christ-likeness, I've almost always jumped at the chance.

And when you're a younger man, whether it's engaging within the recovery community or taking on a leadership role that's a bit over your head, the emotional weightiness can truly be taxing.  For how you choose to present yourself within these roles will impact others, and in turn, they'll have the opportunity to adjudicate what they see in you (& oftentimes let you know).

And this is really where the rubber meets the road when it comes to fathering yourself.  Do you have the chutzpah to face the masses (visible or invisible) - in whatever capacity you're called to - sans losing sight of what the true motivation is behind the course that you've charted?

If so, not only will you make a lasting impact on yourself, but you'll eventually successfully bypass the disadvantaged state of having not been fathered.

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One final tale:

Today, I relish taking showers in locker rooms (fitness centers), but this is only due to me being very intentional, through the years, regarding overcoming my shame / anxiety surrounding these spaces.  And that took some tremendous fathering of myself, for locker rooms represented me feeling like an outcast or freak (going back to 7th grade PE class).  

All that might sound easy and simplistic within those few sentences but it by no means was.

When you're a little tyke and you're made to feel as if you don't belong (or aren't safe) with other boys within a designated masculine space, it plants deep seated feelings of doubt regarding your worth / value as a male into your heart.

Think of having to play "Shirts & Skins" each and every day during 7th grade PE class, and always being the last one chosen for a team due to your pathetic basketball playing skills.  And, in kind, feeling so very ashamed doing so whilst shirtless (body embarrassment).

Deep seated feelings of doubt regarding one's worth, planted in middle school, leave a boy who's out of luck in the intentionally being-fathered camp, in a tough, tough spot and that was me in a nutshell.

In many ways, it takes a miracle to father oneself effectively, but I would argue, the deeper the wounds, the greater the motivation to do the relentless, ongoing work.

Being A Contrarian

Years ago, I lead a Samson Society National Retreat workshop that centered around same-sex attraction.  I was generously given a lot of content leeway therein.  I decided fairly quickly that the workshop should center around attributes of Rob that were somehow related to my stance / position regarding my SSA.  One of those was me being a contrarian.  Also, I made it very clear - right at the outset of my presentation - that I was representing no one but myself / my own opinion / choices.

Fast forward...

The attribute that I've come back to again and again for analysis is contrarianism.  Hence, my decision to postulate a bit here. 

But before I do, let me be clear.  Contrarianism, for me, is tied directly to an attitude / outlook, and that attitude is a combination of "Fuck you!" and flippant (the percentage of each depends on the day of the week you ask me).

Now, back to my postulating. 

This contrarian attribute may very well have grown out of me being an only child.  Obviously, there were no siblings to imitate / shadow, therefore I had the privilege of being the oldest, middle and youngest child simultaneously within my family.  In line with that was being an unplanned only child (my 'rents were 18 & 19 when they had me).  That distinction made the family unit I was reared in feel understandably less stable / surefooted (though, I believe, perhaps only to me).  And this feeling I only truly took note of when I was in the presence of other families outside of my own (extended & otherwise).  For example, families at our church. 

Regarding my extended family (Turner side of the house), my grandfather had long since died (he died of lung cancer in his early 40s) when the Turners (my dad had three brothers & they all married multiple times / had multiple children of their own) gathered in the MS Delta for holiday gatherings.  As such, his widowed wife (my grandmother) had also remarried / divorced by this point in time.  Maurine lived alone in a large, very posh home in small town (Delta) Mississippi that existed solely to intimidate / impress.

As such, that sense of firsthand family (my parents & I) instability / vulnerability definitely existed too "within the same key" whilst participating in those larger Turner settings.

Therefore, my concept of family represented a whole lot of me myself (independent from everyone around me) in light of not feeling much of any sure-footedness / longstanding emotional / relational stability with those folks.

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I believe the very first contrarian decision I gravitated towards - consistently - had to do with how I viewed females versus males (& I couldn't help but include myself as one of the latter).

Taking both of my parents into consideration, my mother's experience carrying / birthing / VERY YOUNG mothering had a profound impact on her (as it should have, but keep in mind that she was a teen mother).  As such, she chose to nurture me to the best of her ability despite her too only being a child.  My dad, due to him simply being the teenage sperm donor, experienced much less maturational (patriarchal) impact for such a time as that.  But also, to his credit, he was doing his part to provide for his dependents, and this involved obtaining higher ed whilst working part-time to win the bread (that rhymes!).

I feel certain this parental role asymmetry (MOM / dad) impacted me greatly as a small child.  As such, though I was no doubt male, I chose to reject the masculine (as it was presented to me by my father) in light of the straightforwardness in emulating this man as it pertained to his personality, character, likes / dislikes.  

And I was somewhat consciously aware of how much of a backassward modus operandi this was, yet I was content with my contrary.  

What became of me as a result of this?  Also, how did it affect my dad?

As a child, I gravitated towards having / making friends much more easily with girls than with boys.  That being said, I did have numerous friends who were male, cherishing those relations along the way.  Also, I was transfixed by female entertainers.  Especially female vocalists.  Therein, I grew up during the '80s (the MTV era).  Therefore, all these beautiful female vocalists were also just as visually elevated / celebrated so long as they had the physical goods to match.

Ultimately, as a result of all this female emulation / worship, I became deeply uncomfortable sexualizing the opposite sex (believe me, I tried).  For I felt this to be in contradiction to who I'd somewhat secretly sworn emotional allegiance to as a boy / chosen moreso to identify with.   

Regarding my dad, as a result of his rejection from me, he slowly took the same approach in kind, for there was no other child but Rob (he really got the short end of the stick) to role model manhood for.  I'll write more about this within an forthcoming post.

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Contrarianism eventually morphed into a survival technique for adolescent (ages 13-18) Rob (as you can imagine, I was the very definition of outcast) even to the point of determining who my friends would become.  

And this wasn't necessarily a liability for me.  So many of my immediate peers (particularly at school) were extremely rebellious / unruly / secular to a fault.  As such, I reflexively chose to move in the opposing direction despite this leaving me isolated.  

But here's where the lines get blurred regarding this season of my life.

Immediately prior to me entering middle school, I was unexpectedly lassoed in by the gospel, therefore I became deeply convicted to follow the teachings / example of Jesus Christ (as recorded within the New Testament gospels).  As every Christian knows, Jesus was the ultimate contrarian, and man oh man, could I ever relate!

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Choosing to pursue a degree in architecture was also fueled via my contrarianism.  Particularly growing up in the "economic butt crack" (Mississippi), architecture made little sense, but that nonsensicalness (contrarian!) combined with my above average skillset as an illustrator propelled me forward and forward and forward.

But let me insert here too that there was one additional - below the surface - motivator herein.  And that was to prove my mettle (to myself).  And architecture school very much became that personal proving ground.

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When I began dating my wife (fifth year of architecture school), a friendship was rekindled with someone of deep, steadfast faith.  What she didn't realize was she too was a contrarian (& she's still not completely convinced of this).  But her faith, and I cannot emphasize this enough, was magnanimous.  Again, I point to Jesus' example.  Need I say more?

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In closing, I have to admit that I hope to ultimately rear a brood of adult contrarians, but only in and through modeling contrarianism as a powerful means to live a life out-of-line with the mainstream / in line with the gospel.  

As you've read here, contrarianism sort of gobbled me up as a child in response to a very 

unplanned

singular

immaturishly unstable (emotional)

upbringing. 

As such, I really wouldn't change a thing, though it required me to take my need for being fathered into my own hands.

My Smoking Hot Friendboy / Brother + The Swimmer Angel

I'm an only child.  As such, I'm independent to a fault and hardly anything ruffles my feathers - outside of my home (I have no idea if that's at all related to being an only).  Essentially, I'm the opposite of flamboyant within my day-to-day life.  Ain't nothing too unexpected / out of the ordinary gonna trip up 'ole Rob, Jr.

Combine with that a genuine sensitivity to emotions.  Now, for those of you that know me, this may not appear to be the case, but it's the truth.  Essentially, when I allow myself to feel, it's a pure, unadulterated experience that makes a lasting impression.  I believe this is due too to my only child upbringing.  For dealing with same-sex attraction throughout my growing up years, I chose to sort and learn from my feelings therein.  Otherwise, I would have ended up either a chemical addict or dead.  

Recognizing these two attributes, God's not shy about throwing me curveballs.

Essentially, I now have a what amounts to a younger brother.  I've written about this Christian (non-Samson) guy before, lamenting about his penchant to prioritize certain (masculine) hobbies over religious activities / commitments in tandem with tolerating a wife whose immaturity oftentimes leaves my head scratching.

And this guys all into Rob.  And I believe that's due to him NOT being an only child (he has two close-in-age siblings).  As such, I've simply moved into position as brother as a result of both our platonic chemistry and need.  

All this being said, I cannot truly comprehend being interdependently tied to a permanent, familial community.  My relationship with my parents attests to this.  Therefore, seeing how emotionally tethered he is to me, even at this stage of our 3-year friendship, blows my mind.

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Now, let me address the physical side of our brotherhood.

If you were look up the word masculine in the dictionary, you'd see a photo of my friend.  In line with that, if you were to cram every one of my masculine archetype personifications into one man, you'd pretty much have my brother.  Hence, each time I'm around him feels surreal due to the fact that's he just so damn physically impressive. 

And just so you know, whenever I introduce him to family / other friends, there's typically some blank stares due to the impossible to ignore oddball coupling.

It's some weird shit.

And that's all I'll say about that.

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Now back to the following statement:  I cannot truly comprehend being interdependently tied to a permanent, familial community.  My relationship with my parents attests to this.  Therefore, seeing how emotionally tethered he is to me, even at this stage of our 3-year friendship, blows my mind.

Every time we rendezvous, it feels that much more permanent.  And this permanency solidifying whilst he and I both are consistently / healthily adding to our individual circle of friends - both personally & professionally.  In other words, it isn't, by any means, a codependent friendship. 

What's hardest for me is the VOID short circuiting my ability to comprehend his love / respect for Rob.  This leaves me feeling out of sync with reality.  And it can be jarring.  Especially when he's hurting and needs my care.  As such, my sympathetic gestures feel disingenuous whether it's a word or touch.

And the VOID has been on a roll as of late.  I feel and see so very much blank space whilst looking inward, and that's tremendously frustrating / depressing.  As such, I gravitate to gay porn when these feelings hollow me out enough.  

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I wrapped up my work yesterday, (9/5) not long after mid-afternoon prior to doing some shopping and then finally landing at the Y for a swim.  It was around 6 PM, therefore with it being Friday, things were slowly beginning to clear out (they close at 8 PM).  The indoor pool is well used throughout the week since it's one of the only ones in the Metro Jackson area.  As such, I tend to feel fairly intimidated asking about open lanes, particularly if a swim team is practicing outright.  Nonetheless, the rule is that they're to obligate two for members (except between 4-5 PM) but often they don't.  

Fridays typically are different though.  Especially early evening on Fridays.  And that's one of the reasons I swim then.  It's sort of like when I first started strength training at age 36.  As such, there's a distinct slowness to truly warming up to a new (athletic) setting.

Prior to putting my bag down in the locker room, I always stick my head in the natatorium before changing (to get a lay of the land).  Yesterday evening was no different.  Surprisingly (disappointingly?), there was an elementary girls' swim team practicing, though it looked as if they didn't have the entire pool.  

As I walked back into the locker room, another man (a few years younger than me) followed my lead, but when he returned from peering into the natatorium, he asked me if I was there to swim.  And then he said something that struck me.  It had to do with him vouching for both of us in light of our intent to share the pool with the children.  

I was seen, and I mean really seen.

By this point, I was in my swim trunks, towel in hand.  I let him know how long I'd be in the pool (needing a lane) and then I made my way.  He then volunteered to take the handicap ramped lane (on the far end), but I told him I had no issues using it.

And then I was swimming.  Just as I always do.  Trying to zone out and think about nothing in particular. But I quickly realized that he was too, and surprisingly, in the adjacent lane.  And it was weird because every other Friday evening, there'd be no one but me & the lifeguard in this enormous, barrel-vaulted room, yet tonight there was this very kind, very comfortable man right there alongside.  

I eventually introduced myself, and he complimented me on my build (in response to me disclosing how often I typically swim during the week), using that as a segue to disclose that he'd just returned to MS and started back swimming a few weeks prior.  

After a half hour, just he said he would, he wrapped up his routine.  We talked further (about churches & how I had another friend with his identical name), and he got out.  I told him I'd gladly give him my card were my wallet not locked up in my car.  In reaction, he assured me we'd run into each other again there at the pool.

I felt so fortunate to have had that encounter with that stranger for such a time as that.

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Why?

For it was so sweet and so needed.  It represented for the first time, having swam consistently within that space over the past three months, an experience where someone sincerely made the effort to be kind to me in such a way that felt genuine and distinct.  And of all places, it was whilst dripping wet, wearing only swim trunks, there in the Y pool.

I wonder if that man was an angel.  Could he have been heaven sent?

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Let me say this in closing.  As you can tell, I'm needing some clarity regarding who I am, what my meld is and how that meld has impacted others (friends, clients, family) throughout my life.  And perhaps clarity isn't the right word.  Maybe a better word is truth / reformatting.

The VOID needs to collapse in on itself, laying the foundation for change.  Otherwise, I can't serve myself with any dignity / accuracy nor my brothers.  Whether they be old or new ones.

Flying Straight Into The Flame

My modus operandi throughout the majority of my adult life has been to never back down from a challenge as it pertains to facing (& ultimately staring down / managing) homosexual desires.  Particularly when the man involved is of obvious platonic / relational value to Rob.  For I've come to quickly ascertain that sexual desire is fickle and not at all permanent.  As such, especially considering homosexual attraction's dubiousness, my mantra more often than not is "Who really cares?".

Now, let me rewind the clock for a few minutes.  I do not want to give you, dear reader, the impression that this cavalier attitude towards my sexuality nor my confidence in the "value of friendships" (with men I may be sexually attracted to - to whatever degree) themselves has always been.  Oh, Hell no.  

The first real formal relational attempt (what I'd hoped would be safe / healthy) that I pursued as a young man (tied to me being a Christian husband / father who'd experienced same-sex attraction extemporaneously since his youth) ended very abruptly.  And please know that regarding the moniker, "young man", I was around the age of 35 at the time.  Thankfully, I chalked this almost instantaneous flameout up to inexperience.  Nonetheless, I was quite desperate and very ready to find an authentic friend.  Especially one who might provide me with some sincere support / guidance.  That sincerity / desperation combined with enough confidence in myself, allowed me to quickly pick myself up / brush myself off and carry forward exploring the landscape for friendlys.  

Alas, even then, I began to suspect (& please know that I've never been a default pessimists) how difficult it might be to find authentic friendship even amongst other Christians.  For I was not naive enough to believe that fessing up to having homosexual desires wouldn't complicate matters / raise eyebrows.

Thank goodness I'm a bit of an exhibitionist at heart.

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Can I have a deeply satisfying friendship sans being authentic about my sexuality?  I'd say TODAY yes, but it's what I'd categorize as a 99% friendship. 

Back then, NO.  For no one (other than a handful of therapists, my wife / parents) had known this part of me, and eventually I reached a breaking point.

As such, today, I have subconsciously incorporated my same sex attraction into my "qualifier checklist" that I utilize to adjudicate potential friendships.  Does this mean a more sexually attractive guy might qualify?  Not necessarily within the viewpoint of the man on the street.  But, for me personally, I do find that when my masculine archetype is identified and notably combined with certain other characteristics, I (holistically) take notice.

And that's true for a lot of guys regardless of their sexuality.  Looks / posture / presentableness are impossible to ignore whilst sizing up another human being.

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This past week, I reached out to a Samson Society newcomer (after he'd shared his contact info with me post newcomer meeting) letting him know formally of my desire to befriend him.  I only did this having sought the counsel of a longstanding Samson brother.  For my concern was making this newbie feel cornered, and that was absolutely not my intent.

Nonetheless, this move grew out of me myself feeling exceptionally needy as of late.  Neediness as an outgrowth of some kind of fierce (seasonal?) loneliness.  

So here I am.  Admitting to that and waiting to possibly hear back from newcomer Samson guy, Pete.  And no, I'm not optimistic.  

In closing, I'm thankful to be able to admit to feeling this way over the past month or so, and as strange as it may sound, I'm grateful too for how it's tested my capacity to tolerate a pain that's not been distinctly present for quite some time.  For loneliness is like a low roar, at least for me, 'till it's much, much more.  

And yes, just so you know, I have delved back into gay porn as a result of this.  But nothing other than revisiting a handful of iconic videos from years past.  Videos that bring temporary comfort.  

Please pray for me to have the patience I need to endure this season of feeling alone / unseen. 

And one more thing.

Over the past four years (even during the pandemic), fall represented coming alongside my oldest daughter as she supported her now alma mater's football team as a member of the collegiate dance squad.  All that's come to an end now that she's graduated.  Hence, there's been a sizable shift in our autumn routine.

It's important to know that her college's football team, during the past four years, mostly embarrassed the school, game after game after game (though they did have one winning season which lead to a bowl game).  In light of this wretched ball playing, we only attended game days that were played on home turf, and then, only those that gave us an opportunity to support our daughter's squad in light of some particularly favored performance. 

Nonetheless, today was the first time I truly took stock of this routine being no more.  And I believe it too is taking its toll.   

That Tinge Of Infatuation

I've been hosting a virtual Samson Society newcomers' meeting since last December.  During the most recent one I hosted, I felt the tinge of infatuation for one of the newcomers.  

This hasn't happened before.  

The meeting is very straightforward (standard format meeting slide deck overview), and typically there isn't much discussion overall.  Nonetheless, each man is asked to relay where he's checking in from, what brought him to Samson Society and what he's hoping to get out of participating within this ministry.  These shares are usually between 2-8 minutes in length, and none of the content is unlike anything I haven't heard prior.

At the tail end, I ask each man if they're ready to "take the plunge into Samson Society feet first", and with a positive response (95% say YES!) sees me sending a specific robo-email invitation to login to www.samsonsociety.com / Samson Society's Slack community.  

And that's it in a nutshell.

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So, what do we as men do when we feel that circumstantial tinge (towards either females or males) within settings that are in no way romantically appropriate?

Do these feelings (themselves) provide a license to pursue the individual that's responsible for these sexual sparks?

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Here're the pragmatics -

Firstly, it's important for me to disclose that the Samson newcomer that served as the "infatuation catalyst"  didn't, in anyway, intentionally captivate that portion of my emotional core.  Instead, it had everything to do with how he looked within the Zoom thumbnail / how he sounded mixed with what he said exactly (which wasn't anything out of the ordinary).  Not to mention my own state of mind for such a time as that.

Secondly, there's the knee-jerk reaction that must be dealt with.  And that is this:  The desire to pursue that individual on behalf of these unexpectedly electrifying feelings.  

And thirdly, there's the state of mind after the fact and how we're to handle that internally.

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My best advice when you find yourself in a similar situation is to thank God for that part of your sexual self that's on point (no pun intended).  And in line with that, savor the feelings as well as the physiological response (erection).  From there, you do nothing.  Days will pass and these feelings will diminish naturally.  

Lastly, never, ever take it upon yourself to fixate on infatuation as if you're somehow able to read people with such expertise that you're then qualified to reciprocate accordingly (or worse, under some form of perverted obligation).  Please know that if it's impossible for you to turn away appropriately, seek out a Samson brother for support.

Samson Society, your workplace, church as well as numerous other settings - DO NOT EQUATE to a club / bar.  As such, you are expected to fall in line with the respective norms (particularly as a Christian man) towards yourself firstly and then to everyone else.

That being said, I'm a human and so are you.  Circumstantial sexual attraction is God breathed and such the gift of being an image bearer.  And as we all know, it can occur in some very unexpected settings / circumstances as we navigate through this life one day at a time.

Lagniappe

You Have No Control Over Your Friend's Priorities (Especially His Spiritual Priorities) As He Himself Leads As A Husband / Father

A few years back, I was blessed to meet Zane.  I'd felt so moved to participate in a day mission trip with our church, Lakeside Pres, in order to expose my youngest daughter to "Delta Streets" in Greenwood, MS.  This private all-boys academy was founded by a man who'd grown up in our church, and I knew enough of it to know of its impact and solidarity as a ministry.

It was a steamy summer day in '22 when our group of 15-20 Presbyterians made the early morning trek.  Zane, at the time, was only officially visiting Lakeside Pres with his wife and two elementary age daughters.  He'd heard about this Saturday missional opportunity, and despite not knowing anyone all around, showed up to participate.

And this speaks to one aspect of what initially and continually draws me to him.  

Zane is like Superman.  Selfless and willing to work really hard to help others.  And this correlates too as it pertains to his physical stature.  Though he's not a head & shoulders taller than most men, his upper body is built like an ox.  That combined with the 4" neatly manicured black beard / olive skin makes him appear like some sort of lumberjack mercenary.

What I soon discovered too, that also correlated similarly (Man of Steel analogy) is that Zane sees himself as "not at home in this world".

He grew up impoverished in rural Mississippi, and though he physically exited that setting immediately following graduating high school, his heart never did.  Every family member of his (& he's fiercely loyal to each) is still there, and they communicate regularly.  As such, when opportunity knocks, he points his GMC truck southwest 'till he arrives in remote Franklin County.  And once he's there, he'll stay as long as conceivably possible.  

Zane's father died unexpectedly 2-3 years prior to me meeting him.  In fact, according to Zane, as his father's health failed, he chose to suffer privately, and in lieu of seeking out medical care (his excuse was his lack of health insurance coverage), he passed away quickly as a result. 

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With our family's platonic support (we quickly took these younger folks - they're about ten years younger than us - under our wing), Zane's troop joined Lakeside Pres.  In line with that, his oldest daughter became involved in the church's youth ministry!  This child is socially awkward, quiet and reserved.  As such, it was a big leap for her (she's one year younger than our youngest daughter).

Up to the past few months, Zane and I have lunched regularly.  He's a fantastic listener / very intelligent / great conversationalist, and I've found him to seemingly warm up to "life in the big city" as I've had the opportunity to expand his horizons a bit.  Lol.

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What I've discovered though about Zane, that I cannot reconcile at this point, is how he prioritizes for himself & his side of the family (his people back home), the opportunity to fill shoes that belonged to his dad.  Is it guilt or loneliness or laziness / rut, or is this actually normal behavior that I shouldn't even question? 

His dad's deer camp is the epicenter of this role play.

For those of you who've no idea what deer camp is, let me provide a quick overview.

A large percentage of rural (& urban) Mississippi white men aggressively hunt the white tail deer (& prepare extensively year-round to do so - via bow & gun season) at their individual deer camp.  The camp itself consists of hunting land along with some semblance of a centralized waylay point.  This hub can be as basic as a series of makeshift structures large enough to shelter antiquated RVs to elaborately designed / built lodges that feature every imaginable, present day luxury.  

What Zane has access to back home, now that his dad is deceased, is far more in line with the former than the latter.

Nonetheless, when his dad died, he chose to purchase his father's membership within his particular club, and from there, he's never looked back.

The older men who were once his father's community have now become his community, and he absolutely loves the experience of "carrying the torch" forward.  These men, no doubt, love Zane as they loved his dad in their own unique ways.  Like father, like son.  As such, I've no doubt they, in turn, grieve their loss of Zane's father through his very presence.

As such, though he's loathe to admit to it, investing his time / energy therein is his main emotional / spiritual priority.  It feels natural and safe.  Plus, it's home for him.

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What I'd hoped for in Zane when he and his brood joined our church was for that commitment to be more than checking a box.  And as you can imagine, me seeing him VOLUNTEER his time so selflessly early on only added to that hope.

But his deer camp family is where it's at, therefore his church family has always been / continues more & more to be kept at arm's length.  And it may remain that way for as long as I'm privileged to call him friend.

Why does this matter?

If Zane were a bachelor, it wouldn't.  But he has a wife and two daughters, one of which just entered high school.

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White women who're wives / mothers, typically do the prioritizing (choosing) to either put their families in the church house on Sundays, Wednesdays, etc. or never darken the door.  Women tend to care about their family as a unit, and for those who see holistic church involvement as an asset, they're going to own that pursuit for their brood.  Therefore, their husbands need not necessarily lead in this regard.  Instead, the role of deacon / elder may serve to be their primary focus therein.  

Within Zane's family, this isn't the case, therefore due to Zane's priorities being elsewhere (as I've described above), church has slowly taken even more of a backseat for his entire clan.   

Zane's wife is, like so many women her age, captivated by every facet of social media.  To the point that she's a conspiracy theorist.  She also struggles with her physical self image, but partially due to the social media captivation, makes no committed, ongoing effort to address the issue. 

Zane's now high school daughter literally has her pocket computer glued to her face whenever she's awake (which based on my understanding is far too much considering the typical 24-hour day).  And this child is highly intelligent and very, very secretive / manipulative.  

And then there's the youngest daughter.  She's sort of the tagalong of the fam.  She's a tiny little thing, loathed by her older sister due to her ability to instantaneously draw attention / concern from seemingly anywhere.  

All that being said, if Zane doesn't "rally the troops" each and every Sunday / Wednesday, ain't nobody he's responsible for darkening the door of Lakeside Pres.  And I can't change that. 

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In conclusion, here's another caveat for you to chew on regarding this friendship of mine.

Zane strength trains regularly far more than I do.  In fact, we'll unexpectedly rendezvous at the Y during the week in the early evenings.  In fact, that's become a more regular occurrence (when we first met, he was going during the wee hours of the morning).  

And he's just as disciplined as I am regarding his specific routine.  In other words, he's not there for any other reason than to put in the work.  

If I didn't / hadn't come to know him through Lakeside Pres three years ago, I would NEVER approach him therein within that setting.  In fact, it's quite humorous (internally) to me as I imagine what it must look like for he and I to chitchat whilst leaning over the bed of his GMC truck out in the Y parking lot (as the sun sits low over the western horizon) post workout.  We're an odd coupling, for sure. 

And we could talk for hours.  For whatever reason, he considers me safe and I too see him as such in turn.  

I think in many ways, I'm like one of those older men from his Franklin County deer camp, but I just happen to be here in the "big city".  And I'm fine with that.  I just worry about his brood as I see time / opportunity slipping away.  But is this worry misplaced / overblown?

And that's how I prove to myself that I love this man like a brother.  It's my desire to want the very best for him and his family.

Nonetheless, I can only pray and provide support in light of the influence I've been afforded for such a time as this.  This brother is NOT a Samson brother.  Hence, restraint is expected.  Ultimately, I need faith to let him lead his life / family as he sees fit.  It's the respect I owe him just as he's afforded that same respect towards me.