The Very Hard Work Of Fathering Myself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1.  The vacuum created by not being fathered himself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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To expound on what I said earlier:

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

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

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

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

How was this fathering myself, exactly?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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One final tale:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being A Contrarian

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

Fast forward...

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

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

Now, back to my postulating. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

unplanned

singular

immaturishly unstable (emotional)

upbringing. 

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

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.