That Hot, Sexy Runner: Reversing The Clock By 20 Years...

Spring has sprung in Mississippi.  

During my drive home yesterday, 3/17 (I was within two miles of the house), I came upon a runner.  And not any runner, mind you.  This early to mid-30s man was at his physical peak.  And shirtless to boot!

The blind (topography) intersection he was running through was decidedly dangerous for both motorists & pedestrians, considering the lack of sidewalks much less curb and gutters.  Nonetheless, he was front and center of those of us behind the wheel as he sashayed his muscular, tanned frame, weaving in & out of the end-of-the-business-day traffic confidently.

I was close enough to deduce that his physique was not unlike any number of Special Forces soldiers (in spite of the 800-mile distance to Fort Bragg from Flowood, MS).  Perhaps, as such, he'd very much lost his way.

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A close Coonass (I love this man) friend of mine made the recent comment that he was in a much better place today than a month ago.  His thoughtful prose is always appreciated.

I have been chewing on that outlook for days now.  For I find it so very insightful as to how we should consider our recovery journey:  on a timeline.

If I were to turn back the clock twenty years, I'd be 32, married for 8 years with one child (toddler).  I'd be floundering (very, very bored with the work) at my first career-building architecture job and deeply, deeply entrenched (numerous hours a day) in gay porn's poison (both at work and at home via the www).  My physical health at this time was a non-priority in my life, and my walk with God also was on autopilot.  My sweet wife, Angie, was home with Babyone and only beginning to find side hustles (executable from home) to supplement her husband's meager income.  And just so you know, I had just relinquished my part-time gig as janitor at the architecture firm that I was employed at full-time.  The shame I felt for having to take on this humiliating (10-month) after hours gig was still - at this time - weighing heavy on my 32-year-old self.

To sum it up, I was in an extremely vulnerable / isolated place during this time of my life.  There was so much negative going on inside my head.  Negative that was terribly sensitive to even the most minute incendiary catalyst.

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Now then.  Let's drop my 32-year-old sorry ass self into the happenstance situation I encountered during my drive home yesterday, (3/17).

First and foremost, I would have instantaneously seen the situation for what it was to me at the time.  An opportunity to exploit.  High-definition mental snapshots of the shirtless stud would have ensued (as I steadied my glare), and from there, I would have had my lust fodder for the following week plus.  

Simultaneously, tremendous shame regarding my desire for this man would latch onto me as if it had been all along ready and waiting within my passenger seat.  These feelings would belittle and diminish me, no matter how well the hours of the day prior had unfurled.  As a result, a tremendous awareness of my feeling intensely isolated would become my front and center state of mind.    

Having identified an opportunity, I would then utilize my memorized photos / experience therein to cope (via heady sexual fantasy).  That opportunity likely would be after my sweet wife was asleep later on that evening.  The fantasies I would concoct would harken back to the very same ones from my adolescence (stitched together neatly through time).  All of those involved me being platonically pursued by masculine, athletically built men under the guise of sexual attraction / lust.

And this, my friends, is voyeurism.  And voyeurism is sin.

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The most noteworthy aspect of my 20-year-younger self - in regard to this spontaneous encounter - would be how specifically captivated he'd be.  It would be as if he were nothing but a void or black hole.  A void / black hole constantly seeking to be filled up via the attention / desire of other, only viewed from a distance, men.  

This was my life back then.  I managed it the best I knew how, but frankly, it was my chronic isolation that left me stuck therein.  

Yet, throughout, I had no idea how not to be isolated nor what it might look like were I not.  For this was and always had been my normal.  Especially from the standpoint of being whipsawed in and out of my routine relative to who / whom I might encounter circumstantially.

Certain men were in complete control of Rob.  And I knew of no other way to exist.  It truly sucked.

Thanks be to God that I'm in a much better place today than I was twenty years ago.

Privately Lusting After Muscled And Hairy

My Covenant Eyes Ally had me laughing a few weeks back.  He's an attorney with a sharp wit.  Around that time, I had found myself being rebellious, therefore throwing caution to the wind, I'd been delving into smut (mostly via my pocket computer) in spite of CE's consistent monitoring (thankfully, this was not typical behavior for me).  

As such, on a few subsequent Mondays, a text message would appear subtlety / respectfully asking about my recent poor choices.  Not long after that, my Ally made a follow up that even today puts a smile on my face.  

He said, "You and I like the same thing except for the muscles and body hair." 

Lol. 

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When I was in upper elementary school, I went to an all-boys' summer camp (sponsored by FBC Jackson), and it was there (rural south AL venue) that I was shockingly exposed to my inevitable & archetypical (physical / emotional) future.  What I mean therein is I experienced a distinct encounter pertaining to what my future was pointing me (maturation) towards as a grown ass man.  At the same time, there was young me dealing with an ongoing subconscious disconnect / emotional chasm.  A chasm rooted primarily in shame / uncertainty.  For I understood clinically (in my head) what I was destined to grow into, but I absolutely, positively could not relate / understand / comprehend on any level what that meant for me specifically.  For I simply could not see myself as anything other than an unprepared, uninitiated boy.  It was as if I was stuck or frozen when it came to all things related to Rob's potential, celebrated journey into manhood. Therefore, when the time came for me to face the truth of what was on the horizon for me as a male, it understandably threw me for a loop / short-circuited my thinking.  As such, I quickly began idolizing therein that which I could not fathom albeit was desperate to fully understand / respect.  

I'm now ready to admit that there was sexual abuse involved in my lower elementary days.  It went on throughout one summer (Saturdays specifically), and though it didn't involve physical touch nor any malicious coercive intent (that I sensed at the time nor recall), its situational age inappropriateness (between me and the adult male party involved) was subtlety apparent to me even then.  I recall feeling powerless to speak up for myself during these instances of abuse disguised as "male peer bonding".  As a result, I began to equate MAN with a future I couldn't / refused to relate to.     

To circle back to my summer camp story, the exposure occurred whilst brushing my teeth before bed on the first night we were there.  Our bunkhouse chaperone (young adult male college student) nonchalantly stepped out of the shower naked and wet right in front of me.  His muscled (very adult-like), hairy, tanned body was in its athletically built prime.  And his junk looked absolutely enormous despite the mass of damp pubic hair crowning / partially obscuring it.  

Whilst looking back, I'm absolutely sure it was his junk that was the most shocking.  For it truly looked like a horse / donkey dick and balls (to my 5th grade eyeballs).  

I spent most of that week privately fixated on this reveal as we went about doing your expected Christian summer camp travails (such as singing "Kumbuya, My Lord" around the evening campfires).  But what truly kicked this fixation into high gear was when our Chippendales-like chaperone ushered a select few of my 5th grade colleagues to bunk with him within his adjacent private room (throughout the remainder of the week).

Oh, how I secretly longed for him to have chosen me.  As you can imagine, my imagination went into overdrive as a result.  

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Yesterday, whilst at the Y, there was a high school newbie strength training alongside.  He was not properly dressed for the gym, and that may have conveniently been due to his lean build (he was wearing slacks).  I silently admired his chutzpah for braving the space (at his age / with his build) for I knew exactly why he was there.  To actively work towards becoming more muscular / strong / "man-looking".  And like so many newbies, it was obvious that he'd no clue as to what he was doing.

Full disclosure:  My time at that stage of my life was spent lusting after muscled and hairy men.  And even moreso if they were golden tan whilst sporting a handsome mug. I did this with so little thought that it was almost as if I spent sizable portions of my adolescence within a sort of homoeroticized lust trance.   

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When the Internet came on the scene (within the first few years of my marriage), I'd found my private, digital honey-hole.  The salacious imagery, particularly the stunningly executed images of beautifully tan, hairy, muscle men only served to suffocate me with lust fodder.  

Eventually, considering the I.T. inevitable, the maturation of the Internet (dial-up to DSL to T1, etc.) ushered in a much broader spectrum of captivating smut.  I watched as photos became videos became HD videos.  

But eventually (in large part due to my decade-long participation within Samson Society), the intense salaciousness wore off and this type of imagery simply became a repository for cheap thrills (it all began to look the same).  

In line with that, my libido dramatically diminished simply due to my middle-aging.  

Internet porn blandness + middle-age reduction in sex drive = Reason to celebrate!

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Today, I'm really pleased with my physical self.  For I'm muscled and hairy in my own right as a 52-year-old man.  I especially like how I feel whilst casually dressed.  Specifically, I don't feel as if I'm hiding my body via my wardrobe.

Consistent strength training / running combined with healthy eating habits, over the past +/-18 years, has paid off in droves.  And, of course, genetics have benefited me too.  I'm very thankful to God for these developments.

When you loathe yourself, whether it's rooted in some form of childhood abuse or not, you know that such a negative outlook makes you decidedly vulnerable.  Vulnerable to rejection, criticism, failure.  Things that are inevitable life experiences.    

In order to survive, I had to commit.  Both to Samson Society (once I stumbled into it in 2014) as well as a healthy, very active lifestyle that was the antithesis of normal for a Mississippi man.  It's been a long-term commit.  In order to protect / honor myself.  For I remember the hurt and the abuse like it was yesterday.  Those scars will never be erased. 

 

When Seduction / Sexual Conquest Fuel A Man's Masculinity Engine / "Boys Will Be Boys"

Perhaps you've heard the term "serial adulterer".  Or perhaps "womanizer".  Numerous high-profile entertainers (TV, film, music, sports) are labeled as such.  And that makes sense.  They're entertainers.  Suave.  Confident.  And oftentimes, very, very professionally successful (or at least aspiring / appearing to be).  

Have you ever thought of intercourse as calisthenics?  

These men don't but considering the alleged amount of coitus they're participating in...

Very few of these entertainment idols speak of regretting their impropriety / disinterest in monogamy.  And I believe it has a lot to do with how intricately linked their sense of / purposefulness in masculinity is to successfully seducing / bedding women (&/or men).

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So, what fuels these serial seducers?  Are they addicts?  Are their libidos truly that demanding?

When I was in high school, television news magazines (not including the mainstays like "60 Minutes" & "20/20") were becoming more and more ubiquitous.  As such, their topics were, in turn, becoming more liberal-minded (eyebrow-raising) as they competed for viewership.  One such episode featured a group of (white) teenage jocks who were brash enough, as it pertained to their underhanded "fuckpoints system", to be filmed touting their primary role (masculine identity) as young, sexually astute bucks. 

Because it was a TV news magazine, besides the expected headshot interviews, there was footage of the studs doing what studs do best:  looking studly.  Hence, they were weightlifting in the gym / competing on sports teams, driving their trucks around town but mostly they were collectively identifying women that they wished to seduce / bed (all the while updating their stats regarding their supposed lays).  

The "fuckpoints systems" they weren't at all shy about disclosing to the broadcast journalist who was responsible for the piece.  And when they were questioned as to their chauvinistic outlook, they brashly declared that "women longed to be fucked by a man".  And they said this with such conviction that the viewer came close to believing it.

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So, is that true?  

I know MARRIED men who're well into their Medicare years who're steadily connecting with women (initially online) who're absolutely interested in dialoguing about their sexual desires.  All in anticipation of performing sexually - to one degree or another - for these old fuckers.  

Keep in mind though that many of these whores receive some form of payment for access to their wet vaginas.  And though it may not feel transactional initially, it almost always ends up as such.

Ultimately though, the Medicare (sugardaddy) man gets one more score.  Just as if he's still playing the "fuckpoints game" from his younger limelit days past.

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All this that I'm describing is simply modus operandi.  And I would argue, it's the most deeply ingrained and therefore destructive motivator towards compulsive sexual sin.  For it bridges the man's brain to his genitalia and that bridge is distinctly tied to his "masculine purpose".  

And let's not forget that masculinity is THE most influential force on planet Earth (other than perhaps gravity).

This MO isn't one that's discussed within the Samson Society.  Why?  It's too taboo, seemingly stereotypical, etc.  Plus, our Heavenly Father / God's son is presented in the masculine.  Who cares to even imply that certain (hypersexual) degrees of masculinity equate directly to - to some degree or another - God's very creation in man himself?

Therefore...

You will hear the word "sex addict" an awful lot along with "triggers" within this community.  "Trauma" is mentioned often as well.  These words tamp down chronic (ingrained / hardwired) illicit behavior(s) into something figurative / digital that can be easily quantified / isolated.  

"Masculine purpose" is just too unclinical.  Too saturated within the entirety of the idea of the man himself.  His core ideals, his physical presence, his understanding / comprehension of women. His core drive(rs).  Yikes.

Hence, it's too much of an individualistic minefield to even consider approaching.

Therefore, what can be done?

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Years ago, a white bread Mormon Samson guy approached me (w/ tenacity) regarding his desire for me to serve him as his Silas.  This man was in his early 30s, reared in both Utah and California, whereas the latter was where he and his young family (Latino wife & preschool daughter) resided presently.  I believe he specifically chose me due to my specific same-sex attraction story and how antithetical it was to his own MO (but this is just speculation on my part).

His draw to porn was directly tied to his "masculine purpose", but that purpose was masked underneath a rigorously established religious identity.  This "masculine purpose" was (birthed during his teen years) rooted in (of all things for a clean-cut Mormon) his adoration for gangsta rap & culture.  And from there, rich, combustible fuel was found (masculine identity) in the specific form of Latino / black women who acquiesce to the gangsta rap aesthetic / lifestyle (he mostly found these in music videos / online porn). 

This / these women are what this man longed to consume in light of his "masculine purpose".  And I believe he did so in order to repetitively confirm / affirm that purpose.  

It was wildly bizarre attempting to walk with this devout, church-going Mormon.  Eventually, upon the apparentness of us continually going in circles regarding his recovery, I had to decouple.  For I knew I was in way over my head.

For whom was I to stand in the way of the very engine that fueled his sense of masculinity?

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My heart hurts for these men.  

If you're interested in learning more, simply read Saint Augustine's autobio.  And from there, be encouraged.  God rescues all manner of men from compulsive sexual sin.  But especially so, men like these.  Ultimately, a supernatural reordering of priorities is required.  A reordering that leaves intact a man's masculine purpose whilst allowing him to fuel up that purpose outside of the hedonistic physical / sexual norms that our culture so celebrates.

Captivated By Masculinity (+ Baritone Voices)

Tuesday, (11/26) my youngest daughter and I screened "Gladiator II" at our local cinema.  Interestingly enough, "Gladiator I" was released in 2000 when I was 28 years old.  Back then, I was absolutely captivated by masculinity.  To the point that seeing a film that so celebrated it (as "Gladiator I" did) would have only sent me deeper into private despairing.  For masculinity (as I perceived it) had enough gravitational pull to consistently hijack my thoughts, causing me to ruminate / obsess in such a way that could easily be described as cerebral / emotional bondage.  As such, particular as a newlywed, I felt the only means of escape was to avoid entertainment firstly that celebrated it (as "Gladiator I" so successfully / ostentatiously did).

To summarize, the BIG, seemingly unsolvable problem I faced in 2000 was LACK OF TRUST in the masculine, and all of that pointed primarily back to my laughably insecure, longstanding kinship with my father.

Now, hear me here.  I didn't type FEAR.  No.  There was no FEAR of the masculine as if it was going to harm / ridicule me.  Instead, it was a distinct LACK OF TRUST.  Obviously, there's a monumental difference between LACK OF TRUST and FEAR.  The former leaves you ISOLATED (left to fend for oneself singularly) as a man whereas the latter incites a myriad of reactionary negative emotions (dread, torment, fatalism) that are directly tied to the "what if?".  

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Now, let's focus on ISOLATION as a result of my LACK OF TRUST and how these two things perpetuated my same-sex attraction. 

Firstly though, I have never felt as if I should be female.  Being male was who I felt securely established to be and, as a result, 100% at peace with.  It was my perception of masculinity (based on my life's narrative) that I failed to comfortably embrace / lean into.  Considering that statement, let me reiterate that I also didn't feel feminine, nor did I wish to be feminine, though I did have a healthy trust in the feminine. Therefore, I absolutely was settled into my understanding of the masculine, yet my hurdle therein was managing the LACK OF TRUST in the concept itself as well as the relinquishing of / backing away from the perceived SAFETY I'd achieved via my longstanding (coping mechanism) ISOLATION.   

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The second Samson weekend intensive I attended was during the spring of 2016.  Our group of +/-20 Jackson Metro Samson guys traveled to beautiful Highlands, NC, staying in a multi-million-dollar vacation property (nestled inside an exclusive golf course development) owned by one of my fellow perverts' parents.

During our off ramping from a full day of whitewater rafting, every last one of us made a beeline to the men's changing room / bathroom.  For it had been a chilly day to be on the river, therefore wetsuits were required.  Once I made my way inside, our fearless leader (meeting facilitator) announced the presence of a same-sex attracted man (Rob) within their hetero-majority.  I remember everyone silently agreeing with me that what had been decreed was very unnecessary / over the top, and as such, it made me realize just how protected (& loved) I truly was within that Motley Crue (it's important to note that our facilitator was known for insensitive remarks). 

To take that a step further, this was the first time I'd experienced being silently buttressed and therefore affirmed via other men.  Straight men.  Masculine men.  All of which were crammed, as I was, within a too small changing / shower room after a fun-filled day in beautiful Appalachia (think Mirror Universe Deliverance).     

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During that same intensive weekend, I had the good fortune of rooming with Silas 1.0.  The space we bunked within was a sizable "bonus room" (situated above the carport) within this multi-story vacation home.  As such, since it was stationed somewhat by itself, there was a sense of privacy / secrecy that few, if any, of our Samson bunkmates experienced.  Specifically, Silas 1.0 slept on a sleeper sofa while I slept on an air mattress.  Though we only spent time alone together within that space to mostly sleep, it still delivered a deep sense of exclusivity within me.  For Silas 1.0 knew my issues with same-sex attraction.  He also knew (& had heard ad nauseum) of my termination from DSU three years prior (& therefore was privy to my pain).  At the time, the level of interest this man exhibited in spending time with me was almost too much for me to believe.  And though this intense platonic attraction naturally waned over time, this sweet season served me well in regard to me choosing to make a conscious effort to TRUST the masculine as I'd never done prior.  

This Samson friendship was one of the firsts that truly gave me credence to begin to TRUST the masculine.

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As an aside, masculinity for me is most effectively presented by men who are also blessed with a baritone speaking voice.  "Gladiator I" served to rocket Mr. Russell Crowe to instant stardom.  In many ways, as the heir apparent of the then well-established Aussie crown (from the original baritone, Mr. Mel Gibson).  

Crowe's voice is deeply masculine, sounding absolutely delicious whilst recorded.  

"Gladiator II"'s protagonist is played by Irish actor, Mr. Paul Mescal.  Arguably, his voice is as deep as Mr. Mel Gibson's has ever been, making it equally delicious to listen to.  

Why is this important to identify?

Baritone voices are intimidating.  They're more animalistic.  Threatening.  And this is mostly due to how they carry combined with how powerfully distinct they are.  

I have an uncle whose voice is beautifully baritone.  As a relative, he's unpredictable and threatening (he's a drug addict, thief and compulsive liar).  Yet, even today at the age of almost 75, his presence / the thought of his presence is just as intimidating as ever. Of all the men I've personally known throughout my life, he represents a masculinity that's the absolute most threatening.   

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As our "early arrival '24 Samson Summit entourage" was finishing up our "meet & eat" late lunch at some nondescript Fayetteville, NC BBQ joint a few weeks back, I was singled out by one of the most resolutely masculine men I know in Samson Society.  As such, he asked me specifically to ride with him (within his newly purchased X3) out to Camp Dixie.  We chatted throughout our 20-minute journey as the cloudy, rainy setting whizzed by.  He'd been en route from middle TN for well over six hours (earlier that day), having endured no less precipitation throughout.  Hence, the gloriously anticipated drive had left him with a lot to be desired.  

Therefore, again, he asked me to join him for the last, very short leg of his trip.  Me?!?

This man is a few years older than I am, and as such, is 100% at peace with himself.  I know segments of his story, but like myself, he's reached a point where it's the present and future that he's most interested in focusing on. 

Initially, when I first met this man (2017), I feared him.  Not anymore.  Especially after his personal invitation to transport me to Camp Dixie.  What a blessing that was.  It served as the cake beneath the icing. 

I came away feeling absolutely his equal.  And that, my friend, I never, ever saw coming.

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