Fall 2024!

Throughout Q1 (& the majority of Q2) of this year, I rarely spent time with my wife (other than us intentionally working out together at the Y).  She unexpectedly landed two new, very hands-on clients right at the beginning of '24, therefore integrating them into her workflow (alongside the typical demands of Q1 pertaining to her existing client base) kept her very, very busy.  

This summer has been all about travel.  And not vacation travel but travel related to work / children's commitments.  

On top of that has been the ongoing demands from my business coupled with drama from both my mother (who I work alongside) and Angie's mom (as it pertains to long-term care for both my mom's mom and my mother-in-law).

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The presence / reliability of my new best friend has been such a gift throughout what's been (so far) of 2024.  The highlight was his birthday.  I was able to gift him something that was very masculine and very personal.  It wasn't a difficult gift to come up with but seeing him receive it as he did was so worth it.  Also, that was the first time we hugged which meant a lot to me.

Second to this special moment in time was our kayaking trip immediately prior to Memorial Day weekend. He took his two daughters, and I took my youngest.  The weather was perfect.  Spending the day shirtless on the river, boating and swimming, was such the gift of memory-making.  

What's unique about this friendship is the fact that he's not in any way involved in Samson Society nor does he have a need to be.  Instead, the relationship is essentially built upon mutual respect and platonic love that's grown out of serendipity / providence (we met at Lakeside Pres) more than anything else.  

In line with this uniqueness is his reliability as a communicator.  He's consistently asking me about my weekend / week.  And his interest is genuine.  And though he's not a skilled writer, he does his best to muddle through the constraints of text messaging.

In a few weeks, he'll be starting a new job that'll require a lot of travel throughout the remainder of '24.  I'm very pleased to see this vocational upgrade come to fruition, but I am going to miss lunching / seeing him at church.  But absence makes the heart grow fonder.  Plus, I know how to love from afar.  If Samson Society has taught me anything, it's taught me how to do that.

A huge part of our love for each other has to do with what I like to call horizontality.  

Though we have very different backgrounds / professions, we are neck-in-neck when it comes to values.  Values regarding family, physical health, spirituality, Mississippi, friendship and so forth.  In fact, I don't believe I've ever met any other Mississippi man who's as closely matched to myself.  

And finally, yes, he does (now) know of my sexual identity issues (as they pertain to my adolescent years only).  This, in line with my repeated shares related to my struggles with Internet porn (& the subsequent need for Samson Society), has provided him with enough of a picture of Rob to suffice.

What's cool is that he cannot relate to any degree (I've asked).  And he doesn't pretend to.  

Like my wife, this guy simply has a heart of gold and a halo that illuminates all around like a supernova.  

This, combined with his lumberjack / mercenary physical build / air, makes him one of a kind.  He's an absolute K-E-E-P-E-R.

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In closing, my oldest two daughters are now back in college.  School starts, for them, next week. As such, our 1,550-sf house is so much less stressful.  Plus, Angie and I can now go back to our sleep divorce setup which we both absolutely love.  

"Transparent Training Union" on Sunday afternoons at 5 PM CST is going great.  The most interesting part of facilitating that virtual meeting is the realization of how unreliable so many virtual meeting facilitators are.  I'm plugged into a Slack channel for "virtual meeting hosts", and it's surprising (to me) to see the recurring abandonment of leadership roles.  And I suppose, knowing that most of these Samson guys have never engaged within an in-person Samson meeting (much less facilitated one), they simply don't realize how reckless / irresponsible their example truly is relative to the community as a whole.   

I'm of the opinion that if you choose to facilitate a Samson meeting (in-person or virtual), you need to stay the course long-term.

Perhaps this is a generational problem?  

Younger men do tend to not commit to anything for longer than they're "feeling it" (whatever that means).  This is their bane, and it will haunt them 'till they recognize their stupidity (stupid is a verb).    

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Regarding my own recovery, bizarrely, my relatively new pocket computer (hand me down from my oldest daughter) has been of great help to me as of late. Due to my core issue of self-loathing, my penchant for only seeing a void whilst looking inward has been offset tremendously via this pocket TV (it has an enormous screen).  

I despise images of myself, but there's now a season where that's beginning to change.  Never did I imagine me, in anyway shape or form, begin to make true progress in this regard.  

God is good, and I'm determined to keep pressing onward.  The grip of self-loathing feeds into feelings of isolation.  This provokes my desire to consume gay porn.  In turn, I choose to pulverize the self-loathing with truth.  Truth regarding the gloriously unique image-bearer that I truly am.  That's my recovery modus operandi.

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I'm so anticipating Fall 2024.  Thanks be to God for where I'm headed.  I trust him completely for such a time as this.  Cooler temps, slower home pace (treasured sleep!), Samson Summit in November.  Awesomeness ahead.

Dead End. For Now.

A very prominent (superstar) gay porn actor was recently indicted for possession of copious amounts of child porn.  As so many convicted criminals are who dabble within this particular illegal activity, he was caught via a ruse.  Federal agents posing otherwise online coaxed this porn actor to share illegal content.  From there a law enforcement search of his home ensued and much more illegal material was uncovered within the man's apartment (thumb drive).  

There's a boatload of relevance to this turn of events, and I'm going to attempt to summarize therein within this post.

This gay porn actor is in his early 40s.  He's a very affably attractive (6'-4" / 265lbs) white man who could easily sub for an action TV star on any popular streaming service's bloated screening menu.  

According to published interviews, he's only been associated with sharing / creating gay porn since 2020, and back then, it was the pandemic's vocational pressures that positioned him to take the plunge (he'd been working successfully as a retail salesperson).

Him creating a microsite on OnlyFans garnered instantaneous attention, and in turn, fistfuls of cash.  For he apparently had copious amounts of homebrewed solo porn vids that served to satiate his newfound stardom online.  This eventually led him to contract with a gay porn studio and another and another.  His ascent to fame / fortune within the industry was apparently hypersonic.  As such, of all the men who've ever bowed to this level of debauchery, he arguably was the first to successfully and steadily bridge the mainstream gap by spearheading content that in no way smelled of creep or fake or most importantly - stereotypical gay man.  This is what allowed him to stand apart, garnering him award after award.  From there, illustrious recognition followed suit along with unimaginable / unprecedented influence as a porn actor.

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Let me expound further.

Watching this guy have sex with other men is akin to having a front row seat at the Olympiads.  He's a "natural" lover of men.  

Specifically, there's a tenderness to his moves that in no way implies "gay for pay".  This combined with an absolute comfortableness whilst being in front of the camera elevates the smut to new heights.  

And this, undoubtedly, is where his popularity took root and was continuing to thrive feverishly online.  It was honest to goodness recognition for doing something no one else has / could with steadfast aplomb.

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Throughout the years, I've met my fair share of men who've had sex with other men.  Many of them are frank regarding their disappointment in the experience.  Much of that is centered around the notion of "pity sex".  This being finding an attractive man to have sex with, but soon realizing that they're only involved out of remorse (pity or perhaps curiosity) versus true interest.  

Also, on rare occasion, I've been told stories of men who've been seduced into bed with another man only to find the mood shift unexpectedly towards aggression / assault whereas they were easily taken advantage of.  

And then, of course, there's simply the unattractiveness of the stereotypical gay man as a whole.  Taking into account their unfortunate penchant for mental health issues (much of it the result of trauma / neglect) combined with a propensity for epidemic proportions of promiscuity (normalization of recreational sex) combined with the subsequent sexually transmitted diseases that go along with those behaviors.

It's overall an ugly, broken populace that tries desperately to canonize its radicalized normality.  This in line with threats / accusations of hate, hate, hate towards anyone who's even slightly critical of the stupidity.

But then, homegrown "Austin Wolf" came along to serve as the theatrical exception.

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Western culture, for the most part, embraces the rights of the individual.  This combined with America's undeniable melting pot of citizenry has, throughout the past, favored sympathy towards the downtrodden and weak.  And these are good things.

When you read that, it sounds so noble and holy.  But one cannot deny our free enterprise system and how it tends to exploit the sweet by and by for its own gain.  As such, it's very much a not at all blindly symbiotic relationship that too few even mildly comprehend (& thereby fall victim to).

I screened "Million Dollar Baby" with my father back in 2004.  Back then, I was often looking for opportunities to funly spend time with my dad.  This film seemed like a surefire bet.

All in all, I came away from the film impressed, but also a little confused.  For I'd never known of female boxing being a real thing.  

Our 'hood (81 lots) likely has as many dogs residing within as humans.  Many homeowners have multiple dogs.  We either hear them barking whilst out in the yards, or we see them leashed / being walked through the 'hood like clockwork.  

I have friends who believe men who're dogless should have their heads examined.  Especially if they're men with children.

Sports is big, big, big business as is pet food / supplies / training / kenneling / grooming and so forth.  There's a lot of money to be made therein.  In turn, this perpetuates / normalizes the activity behind the economics via popular opinion and marketing influence.  

The gay male resides within a MASSIVE economic sector, but it's one of the trickiest to normalize (make mainstream).  Why?

...there's simply the unattractiveness of the stereotypical gay man as a whole.  Taking into account their unfortunate penchant for mental health issues (much of it the result of trauma / neglect) combined with their propensity for epidemic proportions of promiscuity (normalization of recreational sex) plus the subsequent sexually transmitted diseases that go along with those behaviors.

It's overall an ugly, broken populace that tries desperately to canonize its radicalized normality.  This in line with threats / accusations of hate, hate, hate towards anyone who's even slightly critical of the stupidity.

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But then, homegrown "Austin Wolf" came along to accidently serve as the bridge.

I would argue that had Justin Heath Smith not recently been locked up, awaiting his soon to be arraignment and eventual trial, he may very well have served to successfully plant the seeds of reset of the public's perception of gay men.  And not simply due to his onscreen presence / actions but via his uninhibited persona / greater good approach to the gay porn industry as a whole.

If you don't believe me, I challenge you to do some research on your own regarding this massively influential individual.  For this guy (over the past four years) seemingly was the Dale Carnegie of the gay porn industry.  And what I mean by that is ambitious, collaborative wrapped within a deeply sincere package.

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We are witnessing the beginnings of the elevation of the gay male as equal to the straight male in terms of interpersonal / relational respect.  And all of this ultimately is hinged on the complete normalization of homosexual activity between men.  As a result, it won't be too much longer 'till parents celebrate / anticipate their children moving into the homosexual lifestyle to the same degree that they do the hetero.

The front door for this pivot resides within these truths. But the ultimate fumigation of our cultural structure will fall on men who provide the public with a face that's buyable.  One that represents what collectively is labeled as "what I might aspire to be / become".  

This is where the American Dream pauses in a big way to reconsider its future direction as a nation of equalized diversity.  

Who might we see next, take up this mantle, on behalf of these and will they even marginally realize the significance of their role therein as it pertains to this paradigm shift?       

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

Intentional Touch / Body Proximity, For Many Men, Is The Superior Way To Confirm Brotherly Love

Back in 2007-2008, I found myself withering on the vine via (authentic) platonic isolation (an ideal situation for Rob's uninhibited gay porn consumption or worse...).  It hadn't been long (October '06) since I'd left my job in the private sector to work for the State of Mississippi.  And I was honored to take that position, but it was nearly instantaneously obvious that I wouldn't be making close friends there.  As such, I had no desire to look back towards my vocational peers from the past either.  

The Internet (Yahoo! Groups specifically) came to my rescue.  Thanks be to God.

Scott, my newfound Aussie friend, was a master of the language arts.  It wasn't long before the "L" word was rolling off his tongue.  And I delighted in that, reciprocating blithely, for I'd never had another man say that word to me.  But I have to admit that it felt a bit hollow and quite forced.  For I'd never met Scott in person.  Instead, it was simply email and telephone / Skype calls that worked to congeal our relationship to the best of our ability.  Eventually, our very long-distance friendship diminished in relevance within my mind, and much to his chagrin, we took a one-year break.  

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Within the Samson Society, there's no shortage of hugs and "L" words.  Simply attend an Intensive or National Retreat, and you'll see what I'm referring to.  Arguably, it's the language of Samson.  In that regard, we're the gayest group of (mostly) straight men you'll likely ever encounter. 

Sidenote:  When I was a senior in high school, I gifted a neighbor friendboy (same age) a mixtape.  This friend had unexpectedly come back into my life during that one year, having moved away the summer prior to our sixth-grade year.  Despite both our (historical) platonic closeness as elementary-age boys (we were "best friends") as well as our (senior year) reestablished proximity, our friendship DID NOT "pick up where we left off".  Defeated and acting somewhat neurotic, I refused to give up hope.  And that's where the high school graduation mixtape gift idea came to fruition.  Unsurprisingly, it detonated any semblance of remaining dignity within our friendship bond.  

No gifting mixtapes please.     

Within certain cultures, best friends hold hands - in public - as a symbol of their love / commitment to each other.  You'll never see that amongst pirate monks, though I do think there's some merit to that innocent gesture.  

But what about men who have no interest in Samson Society, yet are just as fiercely loyal as friends (if not more so)?   How should we express love to them in a way that's respectfully effective?

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Here's an overall qualifier:

One of the greatest gifts the Samson Society has afforded me is practice loving on men.  Especially from the standpoint of catering that love specifically to that individual man.

I have rarely hugged a man who's not / who wasn't involved in Samson Society (except within circumstances that were quite forced / awkward).  

So how do I respectfully communicate love sans the fraternity of Samson Society providing oversight / ground rules / safety?

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Here in Mississippi, arguably the greatest fear of parents of boys is that they'll end up / turn out gay.  Having a homosexual son is a massive point of shame here in the Magnolia State.  As such, these children are usually written off completely / ignored outright within traditional southern communities.  And I believe this is primarily due to how dismissed / frowned upon any dialogue (identifier) regarding sexuality is within the buckle of the Bible Belt.  Hence, boldly proclaiming / admitting to one's same-sex attraction (& admitting to enjoying acting out on it) is akin to openly discussing one's viewpoint on southern race relations / Catholicism.  It amounts to instantaneous relational ostracism.   

As such, it's what drives middle to upper / middle to upper-class white parents to elevate / ratify hetero norms to the nth degree (in hopes of future-proofing their boy's budding sexuality).    

For example, these teenage boys are given full-size pickups to drive NO MATTER WHAT.  Is there no more hetero-normal vehicle than a body-on-frame full-size, gas-guzzling truck?  Absolutely not!

And preferably, it should be a domestic-designed / manufactured truck.  Toyota / Nissans simply aren't as hetero-normal as Ford and Chevrolet / GMC.

I could go on.  (Travel) team sports, boy scouts (tent camping), hunting / fishing and so forth.  

Oh, and if the full-size truck is customized (Carolina squat / rims, glass packs, etc.), all the more peace-of-mind parents can obtain regarding their son's unfettered sexual attraction towards wet vaginas.  

Straight son = parenting job well done.

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Intentional touch.  Mostly via handshakes, but on occasion, via a grasp (strong grip) or tap.  But also, there's the art of body proximity / politics.  

It's that shared space between two brothers.  Whether you're stationed together within a battalion, swimming semi-nude within a river, working out together or simply leaning over the empty bed of a (domestic) PICKUP TRUCK chewing the fat.  

Men's bodies radiate relational energy.  It's like a scent / body aroma that only the canines are actually privy to.  Therein, you mix that with your brother via proximity and emotional affirming can most certainly occur.  Powerfully.  Effortlessly.  Simply by spending time together.  It truly is magical to witness / experience.

And I would argue there's a lot to be said for this approach in terms of its subtleness.  Healthy men desire nothing greater than the respect of other men / women within their lives.  Understanding how to effectively express love candidly yet respectfully towards your special friend, I would argue, is key to sustaining said friendship.  

It took me a long time to learn this.

And you don't have a drive a full-size truck to do this well (though your friend may very well need to own one).

You're welcome.

The Night He Got Jumped By His Former Youth Pastor / It Took Two To Tango / Was This An Isolated Incident? - Stories That Resonate

It is not getting any easier admitting to my neediness.  Over the past quarter (& then some), my wife has been working 12-hour days (home office), and because she's a night owl, most of her workday has been well past 5 PM.  As such, a typical evening (throughout the workday and weekend) consisted of tiptoeing in order to not disturb her grind.  And it was my privilege to step up in this regard.  

Since she became physically disabled due to her May 2020 stroke, a lot of additional housework naturally fell on my shoulders.  Thanks be to God we live in a manageably scaled home (with a small yard)!  Too, only having one additional kidlet (of three total) at home (who's the epitome of obedience and cooperation) to feed / tend to, helps tremendously.

My wife is quite ambitious and very, very capable as a sole proprietor.  Her clients almost immediately recognize this, and therefore lean into her professional services (she's a CPA).  

But where does that leave our marriage - during ramp up / intensely busy seasons?

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Twice last week, I delved back into gay porn.  And of note is how I hit repeat regarding one video I stumbled across in particular (this is very rare for me to do).  The models within this particular vignette were having some passionately dramatic sex, and I mean passionate with a capital P.  In fact, there was more emphasis therein than on your typical hyper close-up genitalia shots.  It felt more like a Hallmark version of Colt Studio than anything else.

But what was truly relevant was the following.  It felt like a porn video made exactly for me for such a time as that / this.

Thursday, (4/11) I began to reckon with just how emotionally needy I truly am at this time, having endured this last quarter.  

My wife and I went out to eat Saturday night at a fairly new restaurant close to our abode.  It was fantastic to steal away as such!  But man, we have a long way to go pertaining to regaining our regularly scheduled marital footing, and it was apparent that neither of us wanted to admit to this.

Nonetheless, both of us realize that marriage is seasonal, and that there'll always be emotional connection pauses that occur, circumstances being whatever they may be.  

They are so not fun though, and arguably leave us both vulnerable to outside forces / temptations.

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Years ago, I attended a Samson Society story retreat over a weekend.  This was my second story retreat, and I was happy to once again support my old friend, Mr. Chris Inman, therein.  A fellow attendee shared a "story of shame" that Saturday afternoon involving his former youth pastor jumping him late one night.

Apparently, this story retreat attendee had (post high school) further befriended, as an adult, his youth pastor.  As such, the youth pastor had divulged his struggle with same-sex attraction (he was single) to this now married with multiple small children (with another on the way) man. 

That friendship naturally matured and continued to warrant time together, and during this particular then recent juncture, the two men were sleeping over at the youth pastor's place.  And that's where the unexpected sexual advance occurred.  

As a result, the younger man immediately fled the scene.  The understandable reactional stress motivated him then to reach out to his parents for support.  Frustratingly, they (particularly his mother) felt their son was overreacting, taking into account the tenured friendship as well as the youth pastor friend's spotless platonic / parochial record.  

At the conclusion of this tale, all I clearly remember is this dude was tremendously angry.  Tremendously angry.  At both his former youth pastor friend / mentor as well as his parents (combined with the world at large).  

I've thought about that story for years and years.  I attempted to follow up with the guy not long after the retreat was over in order to hopefully understand / flesh out more details, but to no avail.  He was absolutely not interested in talking to same-sex attracted Rob (can you blame him?).

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Last summer, a new potential friend (completely unaffiliated with Samson Society) literally fell out of the sky into my sphere of influence.  My aforementioned younger daughter and I had volunteered for a Saturday mission trip (with our church) to Greenwood.  This new friend volunteered too in spite of his family not being a member of our congregation.  If you've read previous blog posts, hearing of this guy is old news.

What makes this new friend so special to Rob is twofold:

1.  His physical presence is intimidating.  This coupled with his reserved persona only add to his exceedingly foreboding posture.  It's important to know that my masculine archetype is very much in line with physical attributes that telegraph the notion of "mysterious threat".  I have no idea why that is.  I've just learned to roll with it.

2.  I'm his first true "big city" (urban / suburban) friend outside of his extended family.  Hence, I want to serve him well as such, being mindful of my influence.

He and I are geared up for around-the-bend warmer days.  Days where we can take our girls swimming, kayaking, exploring the Mississippi out-of-doors.  These are anticipated future memories that engender me with sizable opportunities to BE SEEN whilst seeing him vulnerably.  

I cannot emphasize enough how restorative these experiences will be to my soul.  Our friendship was so embryonic last summer that what few we had like these felt almost surreal - for both of us - in and of themselves.  Mostly due to how unexpectedly initial common ground we found both of ourselves enjoying.  As such, summer 2024 awaits...

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The questions before I close.

-  Will I ever truly come to understand how effectively educated I've become via Samson Society in terms of healthy (modeled & otherwise) male-to-male relationships?

-  By receiving the raw emotion (positive or negative) from another Samson guy, in light of his experience with the unexpected, does this exposure qualify as truly vicarious or is it simply me being a novel spectator?  Furthermore, what constitutes either side of that experiential equation?  

-  Knowing that my new local friend isn't a Samson guy, will that insure, to some degree, the longevity of our friendship (less competition / him not being a pervert as I am)?  

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Samson Society emphasizes recovery, and it most certainly should.  But, an indirect benefit, is the opportunity to become immensely respectful of brotherly love male friendship - both inside & outside of this community.  Regardless, those couplings truly are supernatural - especially here at middle-age.  And, of course, they're absolutely just as, if not moreso, supportive therein within their own unique way.

Thanks be to God for men, image-bearers of the living God.  

     

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

How Do You Know If You've Earned Another Man's (Samson Or Otherwise) Respect?

When men begin sharing intimately regarding their passions, you've earned their respect.  And this is particularly true when their passions DO NOT ALIGN WITH YOUR OWN.  

Why is this relational development such the bellwether?  

When a man loops in another to something HE KNOWS his friend isn't necessarily interested in, he's increasingly risking rejection (to some degree or another) by doing so.  There is nothing men fear more than rejection from other men.  As such, risking that with someone he's very much not wanting to ward off, implies that trust is concretizing between the two men.

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It was right around this time of year in 2015 that I acquired my first Silas.  Not long afterwards, he had my family over for a New Year's dinner party.  I remember this so vividly because my father-in-law had passed away not long before (the previous month), and though I wasn't at all close to this man, my wife certainly had been.  As such, she was still in an emotional fog.  Regardless, she did her darndest to be present / interested, but overall, she did not care to participate therein relative to this exciting (MY FIRST SILAS!) time for Rob.  

Why was this (dinner party) a big reveal for my Silas?  

He had an outrageously large family (I, of course, knew this going in, but seeing is believing).  So large, in fact, that there was great risk that we would react (understandably) in a way that was obviously uncomfortable / stigmatizing to all of / in front of them.  But we did not.  Instead, we had a lovely time, and from there, his trust / comfort level in me grew exponentially.

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A year or so after this, I became a Silas to a much younger man who'd been so brave to seek professional help for his ongoing struggle with chronic Internet porn consumption.  This fortunately had led him to our in-person Samson Society group.  

Eventually, he and I both began attending a spin-off face-to-face Samson group, and in tandem with that routine, each Sunday afternoon, in advance of this meeting, we'd rendezvous at a local restaurant in order to hang-out.  

At this time, I was busy studying for Securities licensing exams.  Therefore, I'd often situate myself at this eatery well in advance of his scheduled arrival (in order to study).  

But it was this regularly scheduled hanging out that he no doubt loved.  It taught me that there's truly an art to hanging out (even as an adult).  

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Pursuing a position of church leadership was another Samson guy's present passion.  We talked extensively about whether he rightly should be qualified therein.  From there, he submitted himself to the process of being examined before (or maybe after) being formally elected by the congregation.  I learned a tremendous amount about what it meant to be Presbyterian even though he attended a Baptist church. 

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Tattoos for some guys, particularly law enforcement types, are integral to their identity as masculine men.  I served as a Silas to a Samson guy who immediately made this crystal clear to Rob.  He would talk about not just the designs themselves but when and where and how (experientally) he received the inking.  And it was the latter that was truly sacred to this man.  For those experiences were tactile, supercharging the intimacy involved during the hours and hours it took for them to be executed.  In turn, this made these designs precious in his eyes.  

Photos that he would text to me of men who were inked were respectfully received.  For though I'd no real interest in tattoos, I learned so much about him via the sacredness of this portion of his identity as an officer of the law.

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I'm a teetotaler, but I drank my fair share of craft beers whilst serving as another man's Silas.  He knew and appreciated craft beers to the degree that I do automobiles (which is fairly extensively).  To him, craft beer represented the ultimate in an uber-cool, relaxing, refreshing beverage.  Nonetheless, I never could successfully down an entire container, but I never once struggled swallowing - my very intentional gulps of - what tasted (to me) like burnt water.

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Never in a million years would I have imagined the opportunity to tangibly support my officiating Silas.  Whether it was a single or double-header, I'd stay to watch him make calls relative to the high school / community college baseball teams competing.  He even once officiated in the Mississippi Braves stadium (good times!).  This same Samson guy introduced me to CrossFit, even allowing me to accompany him to a CrossFit competition in South MS during the heart of the pandemic.  I took the opportunity to take a number of crappy photos of he and his partner competing well, enjoying my time outright all the way up 'till their team were declared the victors. 

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Whether it's music, sports, fitness, booze, hunting / fishing, inked body parts, writing (poetry, essays), and on and on, all of these passions may very well qualify relative to the complicated makeup of your friend.

If you're smart, you'll recognize the opportunity when it's presented via respectfully embracing this portion of your friend at face value by asking curiously about its personal origins.  From there, attempt to insert yourself therein as a means to tangibly support this powerful identifier.  Respect will then begin to deeply take root.  Trust me, it never fails.

Once More, A Boiled Toad

Being same-sex attracted has always been my sexual norm.  I've never known anything different.  When I began dating my future wife (mid-'90s), I was far more attracted to her holistically than likely other potential suitors might have been.  And this springboarded off of our childhood friendship which became far more important than either of us realized 'till we began dating.  Angie was tender.  Her touch was soft and consistent.  Plus, she was loyal to a fault.  I could go on, but my point here is I had the benefit of being able to easily look beyond the sole opportunity to lay with her (intercourse), as her husband, in regard to potentially marrying.

Another norm for me is the Deep South culture.  A big portion of which basks in college football competition / rivalries.  This one too is experienced by Rob in ways that don't necessarily fit the typical Mississippi redneck.

It's important to know that Mississippi is all I know relative to a home.  As such, it's a hotbed of football-loving and has been for as long as I've known it.  My dad, Robert, Sr., grew up immersed in this Southeastern Conference culture.  As such, it's as definitive as the very blood type that circulates through his veins.

I joined the marching band (clarinet / drum major) in middle school out of curiosity (& as an escape route from PE class) more than anything else.  As such, Friday nights during each of my subsequent fall semesters were mostly spent back on the private academy's grounds - at each and every football game. 

From there, I segued into my college's marching band where again, I spent every fall weekend (along with three bowl games!) supporting the team, but this time, I was wearing a maroon & white band uniform.  At the conclusion of 1994, my tenure as a Maroon Band member bittersweetly came to a close.

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Whilst looking back, regarding football, I really was like a submerged frog in a pot of gradually heated water.  Yet, there were two confounding constants:  1) how undecipherable the game was to me as a teen & subsequently 2) the reality that every matchup occurred under the cover of darkness.  

For I'd certainly never played the game.  Therefore, having only very rarely tossed a pigskin with my father, I found myself sitting in those rickety wooden stands feeling more like a comatose queue (on standby to march during halftime) than an actual spectator.     

But now, as a 51-year-old, I can comprehend the game well enough to follow the action.  Nonetheless, even if I squint my eyes closed, I have the ability to keep up with the plays with relative ease.  

And this leads me to the following realization:  Football players, after all these years, are now becoming recognizable as individuals.  And not just for their specific assigned positions on the field.  Their names on the back of their jerseys, specifically, are beginning to register within my brain, proving to me that these are real men.

Some of which are very physically attractive men.

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Today (specifically regarding the past three seasons), I've interloped yet again into the routine of supporting football games.  And this is in line with my oldest daughter being a pep squad member at her collegiate institution of choice with me (& Angie) being the supportive parent(s).   

Disappointingly, her college's football team hasn't performed well during the majority of these seasons, therefore it's been absolutely no fun to attend the games - from that perspective.  

Hence, I have found myself, throughout these 4+ tedious hours, doing everything in my power to simply endure the mercilessly horrific gameplay.

As such, this has led me to take note of one player in particular, who just happens to station himself almost directly in front of our seats.  And all I know to say about that is, thanks be to God for beautiful men.

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At this stage in my recovery, I don't consume gay porn in order to lust.  Why?  I simply see that approach as past tense for Rob.  Nonetheless, when I do choose to delve into it, it's in pursuit of two things:  1) videos / photos of guys who fit my masculine archetype being sexual - to some degree or another, and 2) these same guys displaying acts of physical tenderness towards each other.

There's not a lot of porn out there that fits this bill because...

A sizable number of porn models who participate onscreen in homosexual sex aren't actually same-sex attracted.  The vast majority are simply guys who're enduring, not unlike I tend to be whilst attending the aforementioned culturally ubiquitous college football games.  Many of these models certainly have a track record within the gay porn industry, but it's exclusively that reputation that they build their simulated performances on as they contractually agree to collaborate within countless (sometimes hundreds, if not thousands) mechanizable features. 

I too have a football game track record that (either as a pep squad / band member or spectator), for me, now spans decades of my life, but it doesn't mean I have today or will ever have in the future any real interest in football.  

The big money for attractive, muscular, masculine (straight-acting) porn models is within the production of gay porn.  Why?  A lot of folks (particularly same-sex attracted folks) consume it very, very regularly.  And yes, that includes women who're completely uninterested in seeing women within their porn palette.  

But the quagmire here is can these straight, college / pro football player-like men display genuine tenderness - towards each other - within this genre?  Especially considering the fact that tenderness is absolutely uncalled for within heterosexual porn features.

Mostly no.  Thankfully no.  & most of the time, if they make the attempt, it looks incredibly forced.

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I'm fortunate to only have one additional year of college football spectatorship that I must endure (my pep squad daughter will be a senior next year!).  From there, my plan is to never attend another college football game unless someone leads me into one at gunpoint.  For I have truly had my fill of it for a lifetime.

And thanks be to God that there's so little online - today - relative to gay porn that captures my interest.  I suppose I've literally become, yet again, a boiled toad in this regard as well.  

Even When The Glass Partition Is Removed, It Can Take A Sizable Amount Of Time To Muster The Emotional Courage To Swim Outside Of Its Familiar Boundary.

Firstly, I want to encourage you, dear reader, to take a few minutes today to memorialize (those which you can recall) the men who've advocated for you in the past.  Perhaps it was a peer or someone older / wiser, but in lieu of dismissing / looking down on you, they did the opposite.  

When I was a junior at Mississippi State ('92-'93), I once again (third year) lived within the dormitory (Evans Hall) with a potluck roommate.  This man was at least ten years my senior, having served in the military - active duty - for a number of years.  Steve was immediately identifiable as cold hearted and jaded.  He seemingly felt slighted by most everyone around him (including God).  And above all else, he loathed Christianity.  Hence, he was friendless and estranged overall from his devout family.  If I could use one modern-day phrase to describe this man, it would be slow burn.

It was via this matchup that I truly learned to lay low around another man (outside of my immediate family) for Steve made me feel anxious whilst in his presence, considering his consistently dark moods.    

Across the suite from our room was another older student, and this man too was honorably discharged active-duty military.  I recall too that throughout the majority of that year, he was without a roommate.  Potluck roommate, Steve, and this about-the-same-age man (we'll call him Frank) were friendly, and I just always assumed it was due to their shared military resumes.  

The remaining two suite dorm rooms were occupied by guys that refused to even be polite.  Inevitably, I'd run into them within the bathroom / shower at the end of the hall, but I'd might as well have been invisible.  Hence, I reflected / projected just as much indifference in response.  

Considering just how diminutive / odd-man-out I found myself feeling, I remember vividly how Frank chose to engage with me during the sporadic times we'd encounter each other there within that soulless, bunker-like building.

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A huge paradigm shift has occurred within my vocational circumstance.  This shift has been anticipated for years, and as such, throughout the majority of 2023, much behind-the-scenes work (thanks be to God for my CPA wife) has been done to see it through.  Now that it's accomplished, and various players (family members) have been "reassigned" accordingly as a result, I'm now finding myself struggling to "swim free".  

And I know that's due to how blithely transactional this shift has been framed as.  To the point that it's beginning to make me question my own emotional vitals.

For this is my now upended reality in contrast to the last ten years.  

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When I was in middle school ('86-'88), I took Shotokan karate classes two days a week at a northeast Jackson aerobics studio (which my mom happened to be employed at).  My Sensei, Mr. Terry Vandeventer, advocated for me like nobody's business, and I loved that (in spite of me feeling undeserving).  Throughout those few years, I tended to be one of the oldest boys in his class, yet I was the least confident in my physical self / ability.  

Mr. Vandeventer's class consisted of an hour on Tuesday afternoons (4 PM - 5 PM) practicing technique / katas, and an hour on Thursday afternoons sparring (against each other).  I privately loathed sparring, though I realized that I was the exception out of the other boys within our class.

What eventually motivated me to quit the class was a neighbor boy (he lived behind us) of mine who also decided to join in the karate fun.  This punk had always been extremely intimidating to young Rob, and he therefore used that intimidation to his advantage.  

One Thursday, I was paired up with this kid, and he wailed on me throughout our 10-minute sparring match.  It was humiliating and profoundly stigmatizing.  As a result, within just a few weeks, I hung up my Gei for good, much to the chagrin of Mr. Vandeventer.  

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I remember discovering that Frank was a runner by listening in on an exchange between he and Steve.  This surprised me for two reasons.  Firstly, we were full-time college students (who makes time to exercise - particularly running - in college?*), and secondly, Frank was far more muscular than what I'd considered at the time to be an ideal "runner's build".  

Now, let me expound on Frank's physicality.  Being around the age of 30, this stallion of a man had the body of an Army Ranger. In fact, though I wasn't privy to what an Army Ranger was at the time, it wasn't hard for me to imagine him being within some sort of elite military unit. I'd never seen a man with so little body fat combined with such muscular bulk.  That combined with his incredibly handsome face (he sported a dapper mustache that fit perfectly therein) made him almost impossible to not envy / admire to some degree.  

Frank wasn't one to see and be seen, but when he was, I couldn't help but take notice.  Especially when he was semi-nude (community bathroom).  Too, he was usually wearing a thin gold necklace.  That too looked great on him, fitting perfectly into his very uniquely masculine physique.  

Lastly, if I remember correctly, Frank had no shortage of body hair, particularly on his chest and stomach.  As such, it's location / thickness only served to amplify his build / enhance his looks.

*The Sanderson Center had yet to be constructed on MSU's campus.

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This past Friday afternoon (yesterday), I yet again head butted against my spontaneously reactionary familial rival (who's 19-years my senior).  As such, I felt deeply maligned to even consider moving out from this "invisibly cage-like" corner.  From there, I cautiously reacted by looping in my closest ally.  And it's important to know that by deeply maligned, I'm referring to behavior / tone / beliefs that were completely off the chart from the customary pettiness.  

I'm still shaken.  All the while attempting to keep myself calm enough to remember that I truly did nothing wrong via acting the part of my new ownership position.  

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The very last day I attended Mr. Terry Vandeventer's Shotokan karate class happened to fall on a Thursday (sparring day).  It was during this class that our respected Sensei shockingly volunteered himself to spar with neighbor punk.  It was then, right before everyone's eyes, that he put a vengeful ass whooping on this kid.  

For every slick move neighbor punk would attempt, Mr. Vandeventer would counter by barreling through.  As such, it was his lightening quick reflexes and almost psychic-like reflexive instinct that were no match for neighbor punk. 

For we all were witnessing a high-level black belt up against a cocky peon.

Unfortunately, although I greatly appreciated this not-so-subtle theatrics, it wasn't enough to convince me to stay.  For neighbor punk's audacity and confidence were far too overwhelming for Rob.  It was as if there literally wasn't enough oxygen in the room for me to breathe with when he was present.

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Frank always spoke to me respectfully when I ran into him there within the dorm suite.  At times even, I vividly remember him seeming genuinely happy to encounter me.  As such, I felt as if he could sense how (yet again) stigmatized I felt there amongst his larger-than-college-life physical self.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that he may very well have taken my homosexual attraction towards him into consideration, yet despite this, worked that much harder to make me as comfortable as he could.  

This was the very first one-on-one private, personal adult male encounter (Rob too as an ALMOST adult) where I felt as if I either wasn't ignored, shunned, or ridiculed outright.  It was indeed significant.   

Hence, this only amplified the beauty - in my eyes - of this glorious man.  This man whose minute gestures made such a lasting impact on me during one of the most trying living situations that I'd encountered up to that point.  

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What's the lesson here?

Terry Vandeventer and Frank continue to support / validate me.  Their memory shines light during the most frustrating of times (now).  

There's no doubt in my mind that I will experience blue ocean eventually.  For I will someday be granted the strength to leave behind this gosh awful present-day corner behind forever.  Until then, I will relish these memorials from my past.

Hone In On Their Masculinity

"When I work out hard at the gym, it makes me want to work out harder the next day.  I do this in order to get stronger." 

Spending time with my aforementioned Samson brother at the 2023 National Retreat was a major highlight.  He was thoughtful to seek me out immediately after arriving, and from there, we simply enjoyed breathing the same air throughout the weekend.

So much of our lives had previously been discussed, therefore knowing how special it was to simple BE TOGETHER, we seized the day(s) (with very little chitchat).

Though we'd shared photos, I wasn't certain as to just how athletically built he'd actually be.  

Keep in mind that the quote at the top of this post set the bar (expectation) for me.  He stated that early on into our friendship when I inquired of him regarding his relationship to physical fitness.  

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For me, visual masculinity equates to athleticism, and I believe this is the case for most folks.  I know, at times, facial hair takes the top spot relative to this, but for Rob, it's men existing in bodies that are honed to perform athletically.  A very close second to that is a quiet spirit. 

Unsurprisingly, my aforementioned Samson friend cited Sky Ranch's "Activity Center" (gymnasium) and how he and some other Samson guys had utilized it to compete athletically (during free time).

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Now that almost two weeks have passed since the retreat, I would be remiss to not mention how okay I am regarding our (once again) physical separation.  Why?

Moments with masculine men (especially so regarding close friends) carry such weight with me that they're like Rob being gifted a parachute whilst watching life's fuel gauge slowly descend.  And the chute isn't to descend me to the ground, but to make my way safely to the next plane.  

Hence, as of right now, I'm simply parachuting.  Slowly.  Deliberately.  Observing my surroundings unencumbered (out of doors) with eyes wide open.  

It's thrilling but also thought provoking as I make my way to my next flight, riding the columns of air throughout.  For I'm reminded that I no longer despise the fact that I'm not that guy.  Instead, I allow the friendship to bear the weight of my need towards identifiable yet quiet strength, repose and resolve.  For friendship is enough of a solution for Rob.  It's closeness, in particular, buttresses me where I'm weakest.