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.

Especially Worthwhile Rewards / Henry's Red Phone

I'm reading Henry Bushkin's Johnny Carson (published in 2014).  Henry details his role (essentially as Johnny's Silas / Jiminy Cricket) as Johnny's entertainment attorney for +/-15 years of his life / career.  Johnny hired Henry within a period of interpersonal/ interprofessional vacuum (no one to trust) just as his second marriage was failing marvelously, and in spite of Henry's youth / inexperience, Johnny trusted him deeply from the outset (timing is everything).

It's an absolutely provocative read that I highly recommend.  Johnny's life was so much better lived / professionally successful with Henry in tow.  And arguably, so was Henry's though Johnny's philandering ways did eventually negatively impact him (to his own marriage's detriment).  

It's important to note that Henry's memoir regarding Johnny wasn't published 'till almost a decade after the entertainer's death, and that it was truly only he who was qualified to narrate those fifteen pivotal years of Johnny's illustriously lived life.

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There's a newbie Samson brother who's attended "Transparent Training Union" (which I host Sundays at 5 PM CST) consistently for +/- one month.  This dude, I also had the privilege of formally introducing Samson Society to via my Saturday morning newcomers' meeting (last month).  

Yesterday, (3/16) during a short "TTU" after meeting, he sincerely asked the remaining Samson men for advice on choosing a Silas.

Sitting there watching this man take Samson Society - combined with own recovery - so seriously, was incredibly humbling to witness.

There're so many men who step into a Samson Society newcomers' meeting, tell their stories, perhaps attend one or two meetings prior to quickly drifting away.  And I'm used to witnessing that and I suppose I should expect it.  But it's so rewarding to see the opposite occur on occasion.  For that was my story.  I seemingly had no other choice than to fully commit, and I was so grateful to have been presented with that opportunity.  

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What this man will find, once he does select a Silas (& I've no doubt he will eventually follow through), is there's a good chance he'll serve him with similar passion / attention as Henry Bushkin served Mr. Johnny Carson.  

In closing, early on in their relationship, Johnny Carson "recommended" that Henry install a red phone in his office, and that phone was to be his private line directly to Henry / Henry's secretary (remember this is decades prior to the invention of cellphones).  

I couldn't help but smile at this reference.

Desperation To Be Seen

I often ask Samson brothers who're just beginning the recovery journey, "What is it that you're truly looking for whilst consuming pornographic content?" 

For me, as a teen who found himself deeply entrenched in same sex attraction, it was the notion of being seen that hooked me deeper and deeper in.  Of course, all manner of physical beauty (photographed / filmed beautifully) certainly tapped into my artistic eye (as described in detail within my last post), but the deep-seated void, if you will, was centered on a desperate loneliness / feeling of isolation that was well beyond typical teenage angst.  

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One of my first architect bosses was genuinely interested in being seen in his own right.  I don't know what exactly drove this behavior, but it manifests itself via his constant attempt to visually impress his fellow man (& too, like me, was his ever-present penchant for the beautiful - clothes, shoes, automobiles, homes).  Specifically, my boss always wore the nicest clothes (shoes especially), drove the finest automobile, and lived in the poshest home (within the far upper end of his specific budget).  As such, these items were upgraded quite often.  To the point that every time you looked up, a new (spotlessly clean) vehicle was parked in his reserved space at the office.

I used to pity this behavior, but today, I realize how similar he and I truly were / are.

Being seen is really, really important to some, if not all men.  For those chronic feelings of isolation / loneliness truly suck.

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I began to know Jesus intimately early on as a teen, but mostly this knowing came from Scripture / (excellent) preaching and a boatload of fairly homogenous Mississippi (deacon body within our church) men.  

To segue from there, I also knew a boatload of pagan Mississippi men (extended family, friends' dads, neighborhood fathers, teachers) as a boy, and though there were distinct differences in persona / demographic, I had a tough time relating to any of them.

As such, becoming a man scared the hell out of me, knowing so little collectively from the representatives within my viewpoint. 

As an aside, I believe most men within earshot of me (as a young man) mistook this fear for arrogance / piety which only isolated me further.

There was only one man (besides my sweet, sweet grandfather) who saw me with any real clarity.  And that was my first boss at Chick-A-Fil.  In so many ways, he was a surrogate dad, and what a gift to me he was!  For not only did he see me unabashedly, but he lived his life in such a way that reflected his peace of mind as it pertained to being seen well himself.  Chris was amazing.

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Consuming gay porn, to me, was the safest ("protecting" those around me) means for me to feel seen.  It involved no other (real) men.  Plus, I could "control" the relationship since it felt so very one-sided.  

My desire to never harm anyone, in spite of my desperate need, kept me laser focused on this private approach.  

When the Internet hit the scene though, its (porn content) voracity instantly became unmanageable (a small creek bed instantaneously became the Mississippi River).  

Of course, Satan knew he was setting me up for bondage whilst inevitably taking the leap from analog to digital.  All the while making me that much more vulnerable as the Internet became more and more mainstream.

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I discussed veneering within my last post.  In many ways, identifying that has been my salvation.  I've watched the Holy Spirit hack away (at the veneering) therein, exposing the idol for what it truly is, roots and all.  

All of this is now coming together to deeply impact my understanding of my boyhood self.  To resurrect him, so to speak.  

In line with that is the reminder of all my past sin.  Sin rooted in lust.  It's daunting, for sure, but I will not allow it to trip up my progress.

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In closing...

How is it that God chose me as his child?  Why would he care enough about my core needs (being seen) to bring me into Samson Society back in August of 2014?

The Christian men I've met (many of which I've closely befriended) see me and in turn, I work diligently to see them.

And they just keep coming.  Thanks be to God for this ministry.  It's been and continues to be how I best manage my needs.  

Amazing Reunion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  

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. 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  

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.

Combating Mundanity (Loosening The Grip Of The Private, Self-Destructive Novelty)

When I worked for the State of MS ('06-'12), there were two sides to our team.  The opposing side (opposite the "employee team" I belonged to) were mostly smokers and all males.  And though their ages were varied, these white men (who were usually only in the office - for the full day - on Mondays & Fridays) made a point to take a smoke break - at least twice a day - in order to break up the mundanity of the government job.

I'll never forget naively discovering this routine via happenstance, and literally being shocked seeing most of them huddled up within the "designated smoking area" there on the north side of the Woolfolk building (basement level of the attached garage). 

What was great about this routine was the community it built amongst those men (in spite of the inhaled carcinogens).

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When I was in architecture school (+/-43 students were in my class of '95), I vividly recall two fellow students (one of which died a few years back) who smoked cigarettes regularly right outside the architecture school building.  One or the other of the two young men would initiate this ritual by moving within view of the other (their desks were on opposing sides of our assigned studio space).  From there, a cig would be raised high to signal what was to come next.

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What's the takeaway here?

Men get bored with routine.  It's the reason men / fathers aren't typically small children's (infants / toddlers) primary caregivers.  

We long for adventure and newfound experience(s).  And usually, a brotherhood component exists as part of that.    

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Privately consuming Internet porn is the antithesis of this.  No camaraderie.  No brotherhood.  Not to mention supporting an industry that's debased as a result.  Its digital toxicity running amuck with a reach & influence that's almost completely unchecked. 

I read an article earlier this week (I can't provide a link since it's behind a journalistic paywall) that featured a family with three adult sons, all three of which are floundering.  Two of the three young men dropped out of their collegiate studies and are now living at home whilst working for the family business.  Disillusionment was the theme.  The boys' parents were exasperated and losing hope.

There was no mention of video games, social media or Internet porn consumption being suspect in exacerbating the problem for this stagnated family.  This shocked me because it was so obvious (these were obviously rich, white people).

Instead, it indirectly blamed women gaining the educational / vocational upper hand and therefore outmaneuvering their male counterparts.  

Please.

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I'm almost an empty-nester (one to go!).  My wife works most evenings.  I love to exercise, but I do also covet my downtime.  

Nonetheless, I must be intentional about interrupting the mundanity of my existence sans self-destructive novelty (Internet porn consumption).  

Samson Society's brotherhood provides THE EASIEST fallback.  Whether it's attending meetings or being intentional about connecting with a brother one-on-one, there's an instantaneous isolation antidote.

If you haven't taken the plunge, I encourage you to do so today.

  

Jesus Loves Boobs

Northpark Mall in Ridgeland, MS was such the petri dish of maturation throughout my teenage years.  I spent hours upon hours there from ages 15-19 frying chicken at Chick-A-Fil on the second floor (right down from Dillard's).  The years were 1988-1991, and at that time, this particular MS mall was almost at its heyday.   

Spencer Gifts was downstairs from the Chick during this initial Northpark era, and this is where I began to discreetly obtain a collection of sexy greeting cards / calendars.  The photos therein were of muscular, handsome men posing / being photographed in order to capture / capitalize on their masculine beauty.  It was these photos that served as Rob's sexual fantasy reserve.  

Today, Spencer Gifts is located within an adjacent wing of Northpark Mall.  I was reminded of this Wednesday, (8/21) whilst walking down memory lane (& returning some clothes to Dillard's).  

On the Spencer Gifts' storefront was a T-shirt design that read "I Love Boobs!" (the word "Love" was a heart symbol).

I immediately was taken aback (which was the whole point of the display) for I couldn't imagine such a storefront during the late 1980s.  

But hey, this is 2024.

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When I run, I almost always wear a tank top.  I do this because it's a shirt that I wrestled mightily with wearing years prior.  Mucho shame had to be overcome.  But now, I find them to be my go-to for the gym, running. They're comfortable and a reminder of the importance of milestoning small victories.   

Our 'hood is filled with retirees, and they're out and about constantly walking their dogs.  One man (former runner) I encounter often (whilst exiting / re-entering our 'hood from a 5K run).  Years ago, I noticed how subtlety taken aback this mid 60s retiree reacts whenever I raise one of my arms (as if to scratch my head / wipe my eyes / point at a bird passing over) if and when we've paused to chat. For when I do this, he can't help but be exposed to / get a clear view of the defined / sculpted muscle mass within my shoulders / upper arms.  

My grandfather (dad's dad) died when my father was 9-years-old.  He was a chain smoker and was dead in his early 40s from lung cancer.  If you look at photos of the man, you can clearly see the broadness of his shoulders.  Bizarrely, he was +/-20 years younger than his oldest brother, therefore all of his siblings (he had three older brothers) looked more like grey-templed uncles than siblings.

As I began to strength train during my mid-30s (I'm in my early 50s today), I would have guys comment to me regarding my shoulders / upper arms and how muscular they were becoming.  I would immediately dismiss this affirmation on the surface, despite my knowing that it was absolutely in line with my Turner genetics.

My father's youngest brother (who was one of three of his brothers), being just one generation away from Joe Ware Turner, Sr. (my long since lung cancer deceased grandfather) absolutely received that same stocky upper-body build.  

And now there's me (along with one of my cousins).  

There's beauty there.  Plain & simple.  Not to everyone, mind you.  But certainly, to some.

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At Lakeside Pres, Pastor Tyson has been slowly marching us through the gospel of Matthew Sunday after Sunday after Sunday.  We're now close to wrapping it up, therefore he recently preached on Jesus being anointed via perfumed oil via his friendgirl Mary.  If you've never read the passage (chapter 26), I'd encourage you to do so.  

Never would a Protestant pastor insinuate the sensuousness of this tale, but if you read it from that point of view, it's undeniable.

Did Jesus appreciate the breasts of Mary as they brushed against him during this ritual?  Was his reaction therein what perpetuated the callous criticism of the whole affair?  Did he feel his cock getting erect as the liquid flowed from the alabaster flask?  

He had to have been so very pleased with himself for creating breasts to begin with as her bosom brushed his upper body throughout this whole scandalous / selfless affair.  

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(Some) Boobs really are beautiful.  

We've been so pleased to see a tenured couple recently returned to our church, and both have lost substantial weight whilst away.  As a result, the wife's breasts are decidedly smaller.

When they were members years prior, she'd often wear attire that "celebrated" her beautiful boobs.  I can remember on several occasions being stunned by her Sunday morning look.  

I knew her husband well enough to know that he was 100% onboard with her ecclesiastical seductiveness.

He maybe attended one or two Samson meetings overall (when I facilitated an in-person meeting there at the church).

It was eye opening to say the least.

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As Christian men who are looking for help with compulsive sexual sin, so many parachurch ministries decry:  "Look Away!  Look Away!  Look Away!"

I'm not so sure this is truly the most reliable long-term solution.  

Jesus loves boobs.  He created each pair with utmost attention to detail.  Can we not lean into his example by learning to appreciate sans capitulating to default lust?  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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One final note.  

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

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

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

That horny old Catholic fart.  

Here's to another ten years!  

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.

As a Christian, You're Going To Get Hurt Within Samson Society. Why Expect This? Because You're Called To Serve Firstly & Feel Secondly.

Prior to losing my Campus Architect / Facilities Director position at Delta State University in 2013, I was surrounded by men day in and day out via the demands of / setup within my vocational role.  I did my darndest to treat everyone fairly, but since I was only there one year prior to my termination (thanks to me violating their IT policy), I really only had time to grow close to a handful of these blue-collar blokes.  Overall, though, I felt this experience was literally the zenith of my career as an architect.  And I felt this at day one.  It truly had all the makings of a dream job.

My leadership approach was as follows: open-door, listen and try to help without in any way pretending to know better than they did (because I usually didn't).  My predecessor had taken the exact opposite approach, therefore the change in leadership style, for my minions, was like a breath of fresh air.

Therein, what dragged / wore on me constantly was how one-sided this setup was.  Especially as it pertained to both me and my family being transplanted into this very new, very isolating small-town MS setting.  For my minions had been starving for respect, therefore my appointment was soon met with all that pent up demand.

Ultimately, no one there knew Rob - warts & all. Nor did I have any friends (outside of work) that served me within the same open door, subservient capacity (as I was day-in-and-day-out serving my men).  As a result, as each work week passed, I felt more and more like an outsider through and through. 

Nonetheless, Rob's respectful modus operandi was appropriate and helpful to all of these men, and this provided me with peace of mind.  For it represented me not being - in the least - overstepping of the supervisor / minion relationship.  For I'd experienced that myself when I too was a minion (within other vocational settings), and it was neither fair nor in anyway helpful therein as it pertained to me doing my minion job to the best of my ability.

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My introduction to Samson Society in August 2014 (11-months post job termination) felt like the "mirror universe" version of my aforementioned Campus Architect / Facilities Director role at DSU.  And this was absolutely apparent, within that first in-person Samson group, due to the fact that I simply wouldn't / couldn't be called upon to "hold the professional line" (put up or shut up).  Therefore, no matter what I happened to say, either within or outside of a meeting (after meeting / retreats) I was allowed to test this assumption repeatedly, yet never once did anyone pull me aside and say, "you might want to tone down the authenticity rhetoric a little."

For such a time as that, I was desperately in need of this weekly orgy of truth-telling / being heard and listened to, for I had so much anger, shame and desperation, with no idea what to do with it.  Plus, I simply wasn't interested in really hearing or knowing otherwise about anyone else's situation (though I certainly pretended to).  My own pain was simply too big to look away from - 24/7/365.  So much so, back then, that it came close to pulling me under completely (thanks to PTSD).

Eventually though, it became more manageable as the pressure eased within my mind.

As such, I did begin to heal.  And from there, I truly began serving / giving back to this community in droves.  I'm here to testify to the fact that Samson Society absolutely worked its magic.  From there, I hit recovery cruise control via service to those who'd have me.  And oh, how much fun that's been. 

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Consider this memory of note:

My breakout attempt to extend an intimate hand of friendship within Samson Society took place right before Christmas 2014.  A younger man who'd been faithful (at that point, longer than I had) to the First Baptist Church Jackson Samson Society piqued my platonic interest in light of his exuberant, outgoing persona (super fun guy).  I'd been fortunate enough to hear bits and pieces of this Samson brother's story throughout the five months I'd been attending said meeting and had even attended a few Bible studies over at his apartment  

What I didn't realize was how my attempts to extend a personal hand of friendship would be reacted to via the other men or at least one, in particular, who'd long since crossed that particular relational bridge (w/ fun guy).

This was when I quickly realized that my involvement within Samson Society was in no way happening inside a vacuum, and that I was just as blokey as all my peers.  And running headlong into this now wedge hurt, but it also didn't deliver reciprocally anything other than a strong reminder of how absolutely okay it was for me to stand up for my own wants and desires within this sacred space of brotherhood.  

Or this one:

I poured mucho time and energy into a guy who'd, like me, come to a Samson story retreat.  This was my second of these, and mostly, I was there out of respect for the facilitator (who was my first "Silas" - pre-Samson Society).  This (fellow retreat attendee) AL native and I agreed to continue dialoguing into the future, and he was extremely faithful to that agreement.

Eventually, the stars aligned, and from there, we were set to both attend a Samson Society National Retreat.  I'd been to many of these prior, but this was his first.  I vividly recall comparing (to him) my previous Samson National Retreats as vampiric feeding grounds.  In essence, fantastic opportunities to make new connections and therefore "drink in" stories 'till one's heart's content.  

Disappointedly, he failed to engage.  In fact, he spent the majority of his time - throughout the weekend - text messaging his wife back in GA.  For she was his codependent female "Silas", for lack of a better word.  As a result, not one Samson guy benefited from befriending this dude (besides brushing shoulders with him during the lunch line).  And that was because he made zero effort to invest as he'd invested in me (& vice versa) throughout the lead up to this endeavor.

We continued our ongoing bi-monthly chats, but it took a long while for me to settle back into our routine emotionally unscathed.  

Nonetheless, I'd realized from the get-go, whilst walking into that second Samson story retreat, that it wasn't going to offer me a whole lot (repetitive) unless I made the most of this syndication.  And that's what motivated me to pursue new connections.  For this, I had no regrets.

Or this one:

Young guy shows up to my Samson meeting at Lakeside Pres church one Saturday morning.  Since he's a newbie, I immediately follow-up with him out of respect for showing up.

The deep-seated respect that returns to me is noble but also uneasy-ly blind.

He continues attending (like clockwork).  Eventually, I tell him to let me come alongside and intentionally assist in his recovery (over the course of the upcoming calendar year).  Months pass.  From there, we agree to meet once a week.

I become his very intentional big brother cheerleader, attending his side hustle events, gifting him at birthdays / promotions at work, and ever steadily continuing to meet regularly. Our friendship is richly rewarding. 

I even loop him into a movie night ("1917") with my father at the newly opened suburban MoviePlex.  Fun times.

Then very unexpectedly the relationship exploded violently.  And of all places for this to occur, ironically, it was during an in-person Samson meeting.        

Within just a few minutes, our friendship / brotherhood ceased to exist in spite of it being bookended on either side by this very ministry.  

A few weeks later, I followed through with (yet again) attending the National Samson Society retreat.  This was never an option for my previous Samson brother.  For anytime I brought up the notion of him accompanying me was met with swift refusal / rebuttal.  

It was during that retreat that I asked Mr. Justin Schwind about attending the virtual Samson Society meeting he facilitated (I'd never prior given serious thought to attending a virtual Samson Society meeting).

And that formally segued me from in-person to virtual literally overnight.

And finally, this one:

A newcomer to this "Make Thursdays Great Again" virtual Samson meeting caught my attention.  I DM'ed him via Slack and before long we were off and running.  He'd attended intensive weekends within other men's parachurch ministries, therefore Samson was serving him beautifully as an everyday reminder / placeholder of that / those sacred event(s).   

We talked A LOT for weeks on end.  The alignment pertaining to our intellect, personas, faith were undeniable. Plus, he was just so hungry for attention.  As such, the attraction was building between us. 

By this point (this was February of '23), I had amassed quite the impressive resume of Samson stories.  So much so that I truly thought I'd heard it all.

But with this guy, that was most definitely not the case.

My reaction therein was blunt.

Needless to say, he was deeply offended.

And that was the end of that.  

But, in the end, it was this offense that motivated me to reposition myself in (virtual Samson meeting) "Brain Changers" on Sunday afternoons / evenings.  And eventually, from co-facilitator, I became sole facilitator ("Transparent Training Union").  

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Last weekend, my wife and I bumped into a guy I often see at the Y.  At the time, she and I were at the local grocery.  This man's younger than me, but due to his build, looks a good bit older than his biological age.  I'd been praying for an opportunity to give him my business card in hopes of us having lunch someday.  And lo and behold, here was my opportunity.  

Why pray this prayer?

Because he's right there in front of me, and he's got a story I want to hear.  That's why.

Plus, he knows my name.

Seriously, I can't not take the chance to see where an extended hand might very well lead.  I love men.  God loves me.  It's full circle.  

Lagniappe

More lagniappe

Even more lagniappe