Lusting After Buck Rogers Porn

I was one of the few that purchased a movie ticket to see 2001's Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within on the big screen.  And I did so in order to have the experience of viewing a (almost) photorealistic computer-generated film (despite the fact that I'd never played any of the video games).

But very, very few others had the same idea.  As such, it was a box office bomb.  

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In 1979, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was released in theaters in spite of its origin as a TV pilot.  I vividly remember Darlene taking me to screen it at Meadowbrook Cinema 6 in Jackson when I was 7-years old.

  

When I began to (sexual) fantasize about men during adolescence (beginning around age 12), Gil Gerard eventually became one of my / the masculine archetypes that were prominently cast within my imagined gay porn scripts. 

Taking that into account, what if "imaginative" online tech existed that most anyone could gain access to; tech that could generate photorealistic imagery of Buck Rogers (the character from the '79 TV pilot nee film) engaging in some erotically filmed solo sex?  What if the tech could literally "re-imagine" (& thereby regenerate) a certain scene(s) from this B movie (per the user's direction), utilizing the same set and even supporting cast members to drive home the realism of this sexually explicit, very personalized vision?  To be more specific, what if Twiki (the bipedal robot / Buck's child-like metal sidekick) were also within this solo sex scene but only as a silent, hidden onlooker?

In closing, what if all of this imagery were in the highest definition / resolution possible? 

I could go on, but you get the point.

What if this were possible?

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Every photo, every word, every "thumbs up", every video, every swipe, every second you're utilizing social media is catalogued for social media tech to use to "learn" about you. Social media companies also purchase massive amounts of data about you from most every corporate retailer that you regularly visit.   

The ultimate goal of AI is to monetize the usage of a version of yourself that can "work for you" behind the scenes or ideally alongside.  This essentially would be your twin helper / avatar who seems to know you better than you know yourself.  Your likes / dislikes, your political views, your thoughts on religion, what your prominent relationships look like, your sexually orientation, etc.

Currently, computer chip manufacturers are the most highly valued equities, by far.  Why?  They're touting the creation (design / manufacturing) of chips that can run these AI versions of you and me.  Hence, more and more monies are being funneled into these companies in anticipation of this upgraded hardware / software future. 

The idea (& ultimate goal) being that these avatars would become as ubiquitous as smartphones (think of the fairy, Navi, as an example).  As such, furthering the stranglehold the tech giants have on most every facet of western culture.  

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I did a Google search for "bald muscle hairy men", and I ended up with these:

That was one day ago.  I have no idea who utilized AI to generate these images of "bald, muscle, hairy men", but they were proud enough to publicly post them.  In all honesty, this isn't a far cry from what the characters looked like in Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within back in 2001, and that film had a production budget of $100 million dollars. These stills came from readily available AI software that's currently at everyone's fingertips (costing next to nothing to harness).

Pornographers jump at the chance to exploit the latest and greatest tech to drive their business model forward.  But the biggest roadblock between them and us (consumer) has always been how seemingly impossible it is for them to personalize their smut to the same degree that everything else within our consumer landscape is currently customizable.  

Think about your smartphone / tablet / smart watch for a moment.  Or ordering off of a fast-food menu (online).  Each of these experiences are almost infinitesimally customizable.  Consider too online dating.  And we do this every day under the guise of NORMAL / EXPECTED.  It drives impetuousness and drivel, positioning us as forever shallow and "ADHD".

The creators of today's porn can only give consumers so much control (which in reality, is very little), and even then, most of it is tied directly to the effectiveness of embedded search engines.

Until now.

I predict that within five years, a large percentage of mainstream porn will be AI generated at the beck and call of the user.  And I'm certainly not referring to only still images.

I predict that within ten years, a large percentage of publicly traded entertainment companies will begrudgingly partner with AI software companies.  This partnership will formally make portions of their television / film vaults available for AI to consume / "learn" from.  As a result, much of this will be intentionally / inevitably exploited by AI pertaining to the specific creation of customized porn.  There will be pushback initially regarding this move, but in the end, the consumers' insatiable appetite for smut will win out.

If I'm right, I'll be able to get off by watching Buck ejaculate - somewhere within New Chicago - around 2034 (I'll be 61!). 

I predict that within twenty years, they'll no longer be many folks having intercourse.  Instead, they'll be dreaming up and marinating in AI generated porn (when they're interested in getting off).  Fewer and fewer children will be born.  Our fantasies will become reality thanks to the power and "magic" of AI.

Lagniappe

More lagniappe

Compromises Made To Recovery Work Add Up Over Time / Place = Expected Behavior

My middle daughter and I were in AR last week and whilst there, we had dinner at a memorable Hot Springs sports bar.  The restaurant was tucked in the corner of a strip shopping center adjacent to our hotel which made it too convenient to not pass up.

The early evening was just beginning to see some drizzling rain as we brought our travel-weary / empty stomachs through the pair of storefront doors.  The sports bar was understandably dark inside but very clean and spacious.  Despite the fact that it was a weekday evening, there were a number of middle to upper-middle class patrons enjoying the friendly atmosphere.  With live music playing and sports channels supersized (projection) on most walls, there was plenty to take in / relax by.

We enjoyed dining on high sodium, high fat appetizers combined with homemade chili and pizza.  It was extremely satisfying and had we been drinkers (middle daughter isn't quite old enough to drink yet but bear with me), a cold beer(s) likely would have only made it that much more enjoyable.

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My first Silas (we cross pollinated; therefore, I served as his Silas in kind) was an alcoholic.  He'd unfortunately (fortunately?) received a DUI a few weeks prior to walking into his first Samson Society meeting back in the early fall of 2015.  This served as his primary motivator to move into recovery.  

Internet porn consumption was also, at the time, a big part of his life.  And most of this was occurring at his office.  Surprisingly, this behavior was unrelated to his alcohol abuse.  

He would tell me stories of how sports bars were his "second office" whilst out of town on business (he traveled 3-4 times a month).  Per the man:  Once he'd successfully located a familiar-looking one (early to mid-afternoon), he'd situate himself at the bar with his laptop / cellphone ON GO ready to down as many craft beers as conceivable.  This would go on 'till the wee hours of the morning.  From there, he'd oftentimes find himself so inebriated that he'd no idea how to find his way back to his hotel, therefore he'd simply black out along the perimeter of some random retail parking lot.  Therein, he'd sleep off the booze there amongst the freshly mulched Indian Hawthornes.   

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As a Christian, we're called to be imitators of Christ.  Also, I'm filled with the Holy Spirit, therefore in and through me my behavior should exude this.  And it does, yet I cannot deny that my flesh comes along for the ride.  My flesh has memory.  History, if you will, that reflects my past (recent / distant).

Over the past 8-9 months, there's been a newbie at the Y who bears a striking resemblance to a very popular, very handsome television star.  The defining attribute of this actor is his impressive, arduously sculpted frame.  

Let's just say you could take 1.5 Robs and pack them into this muscular 40-year-old dude.

I took the initiative to introduce myself to this newbie a month or so ago, and he's now reciprocating the cordialness when our paths cross, even going so far as to discreetly track my movements in and through my improvised strength training routines.

I don't feign the attention / interest, for I know it harkens to our now familiarity / newfound friendship.  Plus, all of this forecasts tighter connection / trust.  And who doesn't desire that?  I certainly do.

What's challenging though is how two-faced I feel.  Why?  I'm reminded constantly, whilst in his presence, of how awe-inspiringly attracted I am to him.  For there's truly not been another masculine archetype (of my own) within that space (during my lengthy tenure) who's appearance / presence wasn't on par with his own.

And unfortunately, me no longer politely ignoring him has indirectly exacerbated my desires.  Desires which aren't by any means not ruefully kept in check, but far less easy to reign in whilst dilly-dallying with gay porn lackadaisically.

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If I were my aforementioned Silas 1.0 (from 2015), eating dinner last week within a nondescript sports bar in Hot Springs, AR (even with my offspring) would have been woefully irresponsible in regard to my never-ending recovery.  As his Silas, had I found out about this stupidity, I would have questioned it outright.

Comfortable, familiar, private settings, I would argue, can be the driving force behind a mindset of permissiveness.  Place = expected behavior. 

I'm no theologian, but Jesus did embody his humanity at 100% combined with being God also at 100%.  Yet, according to Scripture, he did not Fall into sin.  

I believe much of this had to do with his eternal perspective.  A perspective that pitted his knowledge of all things up against the temporary bliss / novelty of sin.  

I am not of the opinion that he had any sort of God-enhanced humanity which positively impacted his senses, provided him with supernatural physical endurance, etc.  

His mind was the mind of God and therefore the outlook of God.  Heaven, no doubt, was his home.  And therein, he never allowed its address to ever be but a thoughtful heartbeat away.

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Presently, I use gay porn mostly at work, and this pays homage to the beginnings of me becoming captivated by it.  Work setting(s) represent familiarity in regard to this escape.  They're my version of a sports bar.

What's happening though is these casual gay porn interludes are eroding my ability to be Christ-like to the degree (actively but mostly internally) that I'm called to be.  Particularly within settings like the Y (where I've recently made my new friend).  And the resulting problem isn't the fragrant allure of the revolving door that wafts within my proverbial nostrils.  Not at all.  Instead, it's the reassurance of an IDENTITY that's sure to be re-accredidated within my mind.  An identity of compromiser.  Cheat.  Time-waster.  Fraud.  Even self-flagellator.  

You've seen these young people cut themselves to draw blood.  Seemingly, they do this within an oft mindless state of consciousness.  From there, the pain / woundedness therein from these small lacerations reset / solidify their IDENTITY amidst the soothe.  I can relate to this.  For what's occurring privately within my mind (w/ my newfound friend) at the Y represents the scarring I've received from my own poor choices.  Specifically, it decrees that you ARE A PHONY / FRAUD due to the undeniable dermis damage. 

Please pray for me.  Pray that I'll stop compromising.  It's hard enough to be Jesus-like without the negativity / aroma of shame off-gassing from every sanctified pore.  It's like smelling your own body odor with no readily available escape from one's own reek.  

It's so weird how I fall back to an IDENTITY that I know will only hurt me further.  It proves how much disdain I truly have for my own self.            

Utilizing Unresolved Familial Baggage To Perpetuate / Justify A Rudderless Life / Existence (With Much Rubble By The Wayside). Recognizing How Easy It Is To Establish An Identity For Identity's Sake.

Growing up Southern Baptist, I recall vividly (as a teen) one particular pastor chiding us parishioners (First Baptist Church Jackson) from the pulpit with, "Do you know that you know that you know?" 

He was referring / speaking to what he considered to be the Christian imposters, sitting there amongst the throngs (or perhaps the Christian amnesiacs?).

It was a question that was laser-focused on his listeners' personal profession of faith, but via wordy distortion, it instead landed underneath the umbrella of emotional petulance (angst).  And as a result, most every mature adult (had they been honest) simply wished to stand up and walk out due to how patronizing (& cultish) it sounded. 

I believe it's important to note that this nagging orator not at all looked the part of Southern Baptist pastor.  And I recall distinctly that his voice was incredibly baritone and therefore rich (& chocolatey)-sounding.  Perhaps that was what served to soft-land his stupid pitch?  For this repetitive verbiage was his mantra.  No matter the sermon, it would be repeated ad nauseum (mostly at the tail end prior to the altar call). 

In a nutshell, whilst looking back, this pastor had a distinctly inaccurate view of our Heavenly Father that he'd perpetuated in line with his own identity.  In short, I have to assume that he felt that it suited him specifically, therefore he allowed its credence to shape / instruct / inform who he was outright as a preacher man.  As a result, this distortion resulted in his reliably odorous pulpit delivery.

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Anyone who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eye are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye.

There are a lot of low intelligence individuals in Mississippi.  I've said this before.  

Here's the sad truth:

Low intelligence folks are hard pressed to live their lives beneath the banner of delayed gratification.  This combined with the inability to analyze their familial history / narrative constructively (if at all), leaves them like cultural "sitting ducks".

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Okay, having written those two sections, I'm going to attempt to tie all this in a neat bow by focusing on the sometimes-difficult coupling between both of these: delayed gratification and analytical skills (assuming moderate to above-average intelligence).  From there, I want to explain what I sometime see happening when we allow our fundamental desire for a stark / distinct / foundational identity to take precedent over process.

If you're a southern boy in lieu of a Midwesterner or out-westerner, community standards aren't going to scream ONLY EXCELLENCE RESIDES HERE.  That "low bar" combined with haphazardly "knowing" how to analyze versus taking the needed time to do so (well / thoroughly), can result in an identity that's an identity for identity's sake.  As a result, I would argue, individuals end up much worse off - in the long run - cross eyed.  

And this is because those identities are false.  And yes, even if they're off by just one degree, they're still false.

The preacher / evangelist I cited earlier had an identity rooted in a Jesus that simply wasn't the Jesus of Scripture.  Yet, he pressed on with his dumbass message in light of the obvious, all the while confusing / frustrating the masses every time he opened his big mouth (in spite of that rich voice).  

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There are plenty of teens who stay frustrated with their family of origin.  And oftentimes, this frustration is justifiable.  Families aren't perfect.  They disappoint.  They fall short.  Sometimes they do terrible things that result in tremendous hurt to the everyone (w/ the concentrated hurt falling on the children).  

And none of this should be ignored.

But if an adult child has the intelligence to respectfully / historically analyze (perhaps with some therapeutic assist), having lived through it, I would argue that in due time (sometimes taking FAR LONGER than one cares to commit to), clarity can be had.  

Answers to questions such as:

-  Who exactly are my individual family members?

-  Who were those who influenced them?

-  What role did I play within the family dynamic?

-  How will the answers to the first three questions within this list play a role in my own identity?

-  How do I see myself, going forward, as I continue to mature forward into adulthood?

-  What can my family look like in spite of my upbringing?

These are a great analytical jumping off point.    

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I look at friends of mine who've established a false identity (for identity's sake), and I so often cringe at the informalness (not at all striving for excellence) approach to living out (a portion of, if not most of) their lives.  

And this approach can, depending on the individual, perhaps only "infect" certain areas of their identity.  Maybe it's their job or their relationship with their spouse that's at the mercy of this biased (false identity) approach. 

Speaking personally, I believe I've been able to spot this approach with ease due to a deceased uncle's tragic legacy within my own family.    

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How do you know if you fall into this camp (harboring an identity for identity's sake)?

I have to believe that (taking into account those of us who're blessed with ample grey matter) it's not genuinely satisfying to live a life that's half baked.  Just as it's never going to be permanently affecting preaching a gospel that's distorted and pushy. 

And I realize that some individuals simply refuse to fully process the tremendous hurt they experienced as children, therefore they rebelliously build their identity on that shaky void.

Nonetheless, it's foolish for anyone with half a brain (& an assumed healthy mental state) to buy into this half-assed, discounted settling.  For it's a settling that perpetuates generational failing forward.  

Remember, you can't hide true intelligence.  Therefore, if you're a Christian as well, and fall into this camp, I would argue that in many ways, you're actually worshiping an internal idol.  An idol of false identity that likely moved in during a season of your development (adolescence?) where it's tangibleness seemed to do far more regarding your need to heal than it actually was / ever could.  

Be encouraged to evict it today and seek out the help you need to do the necessary analytical work to find your true identity (in Christ).  And please, for goodness' sake, be patient with the process.  

You will get there eventually.  And perhaps Samson Society can help.

Lagniappe

Chipping Away At Your Ever-Present "Lust Noise"

These presently uber-popular prescription diabetes / weight loss pharmaceuticals (weekly injectables) claim to diminish the volume (think sound) of patient's "food noise" as they go about their day-to-day activities.  Patients describe "food noise" as the Siren Song of eating.  Hence, by reducing that noise, resisting compulsive food intake is made substantially easier.

Scientists don't understand exactly how this pharmaceutical works internally to accomplish this.

But I have a theory.

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You'll hear the notion of neuroplasticity A LOT within (virtual groups) Samson Society.  This is the notion / theory that our brain can "rewire" itself, therein forming "new neuro-pathways" over time.

If you give credit to the meaning of the word plastic, it implies being shaped / formed ONCE into a new shape / form.  It's a violent process that takes its fair share of energy to pull off.  

There are certainly certain engineered forms of material plastics whose potential is designed-in to be easily recycled / reformed / repurposed, but mostly, the term plastic implies one significant "shaping" only.  One and done.  Use the newly shaped object and discard it.

Hence, scientific research now seems to point towards the fact that the brain isn't at all neuroplastic.  Nonetheless, it can move towards new information / understanding, and as such, abandon routes used prior - once new ones are established.  But this takes not only time but the will for the brain to move towards "blue ocean" (new territory).  And as stated prior (whilst staying with my materials plastic analogy), this is a violent, energy-intense process for the brain to accomplish.  All the while warranting no guarantee of true recovery return in the end.

Regarding the brain's willingness to do this, I'm convinced there must be motivation / motivators (positive or negative or some combination) therein.  Otherwise, there's no true gain or win in doing so, and sans motivation / motivators (positive / negative), the mind won't be convinced.

And, based on personal experience / observation, that motivator needs to come (to some degree or another) in the form of seemingly uninterruptable / uninterrupted pain.

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A few weeks back, I hit the pause button on my role as a Silas to one particular young man.  He and I had been walking closely together for +/-6 months.

Why did I do this?

There was no will for his brain to move towards blue ocean.  

His upper-class life was absolutely defined by safety net after safety net after safety net.  Whether it was his church, his parents, his wife, his role as a student (professional college), all around him were safety nets.  There was no need for him to fear any real consequences related to choosing to indulge in compulsive sexual sin.  For he was convinced that none of the safety nets would ever be removed as a result.  

This young man was quite transparent with everyone within his sphere of influence (all mentioned above) regarding his illicit behavior, but as such, he knew he could continue to get away with it Scot-free.  

No motivation to move towards blue ocean = zero chance of recovery.

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Committing / experiencing Samson Society, for Rob, has been rooted in blue ocean.  My motivation came from the stifling, consistently debilitating emotional pain via my job loss back in September of 2013 (I'd broken my employer's IT policy).  Via that emotional trauma, I developed PTSD which was hellacious.  This 18-month brain torture positioned me - no holds barred - towards blue ocean.  Not once did I look to anything familiar related to therapeutic healing.  Instead, it was boots-on-the-ground, facing west (not once turning to the right or the left) and marching forward into the unknown.  

I absolutely had to get help / healing for my tormented / traumatized brain.

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After the devastation of Hurricane Katrina (2005) in New Orleans, LA, Houston, TX stepped up and agreed to "receive" a massive number of impoverished (now homeless) New Orleanians who'd lost everything due to the storm.  If I remember correctly, they were bussed to Houston, caravaning west in one accord.  

The situation in NOLA immediately following the hurricane was bleak.  Levees had failed which had precipitated massive flooding, utilities were down (water / electricity), and looting / crime were rampant.  Keep in mind too that this was late August of that year.  Temps were close to 100 at 100% humidity.

The housing within the Lower Ninth Ward of NOLA was literally wiped away by the storm, and no one truly realized just how apocalyptic the situation would become - literally overnight.  

NOLA has been known for rampant crime for decades, and back then, things were no different.  Much of this is fueled culturally via substance abuse.  NOLA has always been a destination city (drunken tourism) that leaves little incentive to actually put down roots therein.   

Houston, TX is about as culturally opposite to NOLA as one might imagine.  And yet, here these poor homeless blacks were.  There amongst, literally surrounded by, all those generous, cowboy-hat wearing Texans. 

Most of them never left Houston.  Even after being given an opportunity to return to a "rebuilt NOLA".  For their lives were better thanks to the blue ocean experience they'd embarked upon.

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Compulsive sin is tied to memory.  

That's what it comes down to.  Memory and calculated risk.

You recall what you experienced prior (& how pleasurably rewarding it was), and from there, you make a decision to undergo a calculated risk to move, once again, in that direction.  Your brain does this on repeat.

Memory is integral to the brain's motivation to never charting a new course (blue ocean).

I'm convinced these uber-popular "food noise" reducing drugs are targeting specific food memories within those who're prescribed these medications.  And based on what I've read, many of these patients are also seeing a reduction in libido.  This leads me to believe, even more, that pleasurable memory is what's being targeted, and that it's creeping over into other areas of patient's brains.

Once patients stop taking these drugs (injecting themselves weekly), the "food noise" returns instantly with exponential volume.  This results in patients gaining even more weight (than they were prior to taking the meds) as they make up for lost glutton time.  So, in many ways, it's like a medically-assisted fast, and once it's over with, it's time to celebrate at Golden Corral restaurant!

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Speaking personally (over the past almost ten years), I've experienced 5% recovery each year of being involved in Samson Society.  I never missed a weekly meeting, whether I was attending or hosting.  I have attended Samson Society intensive weekends, Samson Society story weekends, National Retreats year after year after year.  Plus, I've connected with too many Samson guys to count, listening to story after story whilst praying earnestly with them at every given opportunity.  

And I'm still doing this.  Each and every week.  Headed west.  Not looking to either my left or my right.  

I've grown to love the journey.  It's so not mundane.  Plus, I no longer feel enslaved to my brain's previous repetitive pursuits for those memories literally are essentially CLOSED ROADS..  And, I am so proud of myself for what I've done.  Especially considering the high stakes involved in never truly seeing any return on my emotional / time investment.    

Thanks be to God for Samson Society.  It is BY NO MEANS a quick fix, but The Path led Rob in a holistically better direction.  My brain is so much better off now than it was in August 2014 (when I first stepped foot into an in-person Samson Society meeting here in the Jackson Metro).

Lagniappe

Overwhelming Recognition

Last week, I was approached by someone who's made an indelible, though very indirect, positive mark on my family.  He's retirement age, though still working full-time, and as such, has recently embraced the perspective of preparing for the inevitable.  

Over the past decade, I've only spoken to this family friend a handful of times - in spite of our vocational / professional proximity.  Mostly, these short dialogues were necessitated out of politeness more than anything else.  For he's always been all-business all the time (& I respect that).

When he approached me and shared his thoughts therein, I absolutely couldn't believe it.  For it bolstered my identity tremendously.  In fact, I'm still walking on air as a result.  

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Within the Samson universe, I receive my fair share of recognition.  And this is anchored within my tenure / notoriety within the org.  And all of that recognition, I do not take for granted.  

But having someone of this stature take the time to align himself with Rob, completely devoid of Samson protocols or otherwise (this man isn't even a practicing Protestant Christian), was absolutely shocking.  For he made that choice based on his quiet day-to-day observation alone, over the past decade.   

!?!?!?!?!

I never could have dreamed that this man, who's so well respected by so many, had been observing me so closely.  And as such, had made the decision to align himself with the notion that I'm essentially equal to his younger self. 

I'm actually wondering if this was someone's idea of a joke, but at the same time, I know deep down that's simply self-doubt creeping in.  

If this man sticks to his word (& I have no reason to believe that he won't, for he's already taken pragmatic steps that align with his intentions), his recognition of Rob will alter my reach / influence tremendously - literally overnight, and in turn, the reach of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  

I'm humbled.  Overwhelmed.  Amazed at God's orchestration.  I do not deserve this.   

Mutilated Genitalia (Certification Of Merit?)

Things have changed within the "mainstream" ("higher-end" production value) gay porn landscape.  

When I first gained access to the www, back in 1998, I was immediately transfixed via the anabolic-steroid enhanced bodybuilders, spray-tanned and posing in all of their naked glory.  And it was their bodies, photographed completely naked, that stood out.  I'd seen plenty of bodybuilders / fitness models photographed semi-nude (newsstand) but nothing like this.  These models had no doubt seen the monetary gain in shedding what little clothing they had left, and many of them went on to partake in "gay for pay" roles that, no doubt, brandished them a sizable payday.

Let me provide some commentary regarding that last sentence.

"Gay for pay" consists of heterosexual men who're willing to engage within gay sex (solo masturbation scenes, homosexual fellatio and / or homosexual sodomy scenes) onscreen so long as the profit margin is to their heterosexual liking.

As such, with the properly prescribed erectile dysfunction medication within their systems, these bodybuilders were off and coming (no matter their sexual orientation)! 

And obviously, the audience was there to consume these images / videos (like me) due to the unbelievable vision of it all.  Despite the fact that all of us consumers knew - deep down - that everything we were watching was fictionalized.  In other words, none of these beautiful men were actually sexually aroused by any of these other men.  Instead, wet vaginas and beautiful breasts combined with a slender / hourglass feminine figure is what they truly desired.  It's just that didn't pay nearly as well.

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Fast forward to 2024.

Today, gay porn seems to now fall in line with gay for gay.  As such, these videos consist of actual gay men having intensely authentic gay sex (solo masturbation scenes, homosexual fellatio and / or homosexual sodomy scenes) on camera.  

Though prescription meds are certainly still a go-to as erectile insurance, much of what you see today within these videos is legitimate lust between two men.  This represents a 180-degree about face from content that's decades old.  

And many of these men aren't vying for recognition as anabolic-steroid enhanced bodybuilders.  Not at all.  And that's due to the fact that a sizable number of them are outright physically beautiful men who're simply in tiptop (natural) shape.

So, what's behind this change?

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The Internet is what's brought the same-sex attracted male into community and that community has demanded normalization (zero bias) through and through.  And it's achieved this primarily by normalizing gay sex.  Prior to the Internet, the tiny minority of same-sex attracted people were confined to wherever they found themselves on planet Earth.  As such, the notion of sodomy (or any other form of same-sex sex) only served to (mostly) disgust mainstream culture.

Today's (20–30-year-old) gay porn model has been reared online.  Hence, they're living homosexual lives that are as mainstream as apple pie.  Gay sex equates to hetero sex equates to gay sex equates to hetero sex.  That's how they've been taught to see our world.

Gay men typically seek out multiple sex partners in line with their typical modus operandi.  Monogamy isn't usually of interest to them.  This is a fact.  By definition, porn is anchored in the expectation of actors engaging with countless sex partners.  

What better candidate is there then for gay porn than naturally great looking, same sex attracted men who've been brought up into this digital age?  Gay sex equates to hetero sex equates to gay sex equates to hetero sex.

There's none better.  Yet, I would argue, witnessing "the real thing" versus the fantastical from decades past, can be jarring.  Read on.

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Have you ever seen gay porn models - beautiful, healthy, great looking gay porn models - who're sporting cock piercings?  Again, I'm referring to gay porn performers who're extremely handsome, great looking, same-sex attracted men versus creepy looking sadist-types with ink from stem to stern.  

I have and it's absolutely shocking to witness.

Do you know what I'm referring to when I type cock piercing?

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Why would I ask this question?

The very existence of cock piercings (and ultimately proliferation of) serves as testimony to just how mainstream homosexual sex has become.  

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A man's penis isn't meant to be pierced for any conceivable reason.  Not only is it a profoundly unremarkable organ aesthetically (hanging their unassumingly between men's legs), but its anatomical purpose is tied to the most important component of civilization's very existence - reproduction.  

The penis isn't like an earlobe which symmetrically frames one's face.  Instead, it's a more like a 11th finger that 99% of the time stays "deflated" and stowed.  

By having the penis mutilated with a piercing is to not only denigrate its very purpose, but it places tremendous visual emphasis on a portion of a man's body that's purely functional.  Not to mention the tremendous health risk involved with this procedure. 

But this is obviously not the point of view of gay men.  Particularly gay men who're having sex with other gay men onscreen.

And that's what's beginning to become apparent within today's gay porn.

The penis is now the earlobe of the gay porn actor.

There's a lot that's truly fucked up about that.  So much so, that it sheds a tremendous amount of light on the today's gay porn industry.

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I so wish I could sit down with some of these men and find out how they came to the place where they're at.  I'd like to know what thought process they went through to choose to mutilate their penises via piercings.  

And ultimately, I'd love to know of those men who came to that place where they suddenly realized the bill of goods they'd been sold before fleeing for help.

Pray, dear readers, for these men and their salvation.  Versus the demise and eternal death that awaits them (& all of us) if we're not rescued from our depraved selves.

When Rob's Reality Intersects With Normal Hetero-Masculine Reality (Outside Of The Controlled Environment Of Samson Society)

Computational failure.  That's what it feels like.  

Imagine observing an automobile unsuspectingly being driven along a nondescript street, and suddenly, it begins to fly.  Soaring higher and higher into the sky as if by some unseen nonrational force that affects nothing else around it.  

When I overheard the two guys from across the gym floor agree upon the statement that one had so confidently purported, just seconds prior, that's when the emotional laws of nature, for me, went all Calvin & Hobbes.

And I'm still feeling incredibly helpless whilst attempting to process that experience.  Again, computational failure.

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Most Samson men are heterosexual.  And that's because Samson Society serves as a microcosm of the world around us.  It has been my privilege to effectively & efficiently befriend countless of these heterosexual guys, throughout the past almost ten years, via the Samson Society landscape.   

What exactly is the Samson Society landscape?

It's the Neutral Zone to use a Star Trek term.

Essentially, a space where antagonism / posturing is neutralized because once inside, specific identities are dramatically downplayed therein.  Think of it as the space between two separate realities / territories.  A space that offers safety in spite of it being almost incomprehensible unless one's entered into it (by means of personal crisis).  

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Throughout the many years I've strength trained at our local Y, there've been plentiful days when a lovely fellow (female) gymgoer has been on the floor too.  I first remember seeing her working alongside a private trainer, but when that trainer relocated (years ago), this middle-aged goddess continued forward on her own, discipline intact.

The only words we've ever spoken to each other - through the years - have been formalities.  Nonetheless, it's obvious there's a mutual respect / comfort-level there.

I suspect that she's single.  Perhaps divorced.  And overall, compared to most every other female that graces the space regularly, this woman is, hands down, one of the most physically / emotionally attractive.  There's a certain youthful poise that radiates from her as she goes about her workouts confidently.

We'll call her Gina.

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Back in 2004, I had the good fortune to travel with a lighting (fixture) representative and his best friend (an electrical engineer) to San Francisco, CA.  This was a combination perk / educational trip funded via the lighting rep.  As an architect / specifier, I'd been on numerous trips like this one, though with neither of these two.  

The night before we were slated to leave (to return to Jackson Metro, MS), the three of us went out for an early dinner.  It was a beautiful California evening.  In spite of this, it seemed to quickly morph into an awkward meal due to me being a teetotaler / uninterested in sports, etc.  As such, the dialogue eventually waned before turning stale.  It didn't help matters that we'd been together for +/-3 days straight (this was before the smartphone revolution) there in that idyllic California city.  

As we eventually made our way back to the hotel for an early-to-bed closure to the evening / trip, I could sense more and more strain between myself and these two besties.  

Why?

They both desperately wanted to conclude our trip via a redlight district, guys-night-out finale, yet they didn't feel at all confident confiding in weirdo Rob regarding. 

Now, this was never voiced by either (married) man, but it was apparent (I'd known both of these work colleagues for many years).  For they were red-blooded, hetero-masculine males (who were far from home).  Plus, the night was young.

I found myself between a relational rock and a hard place.  Was I behaving like a true friend / being true to myself or simply a redneck fuddy duddy? 

Ultimately, it wasn't the thought of me being surrounded by naked women (strip clubs) that was off putting.  Not at all.  It was me being present, within said strip clubs, with my two, dear hetero-masculine Mississippi friends and having to computationally endure their reactions therein sans my brain exploding.  The thought of having to endure that is what turned my stomach.  

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Mid-week last week was when the aforementioned eavesdropping occurred.  One of the two (male) gym-goers who was involved in the exchange was very familiar to me, and, just so you know, both had been mulling around the gym floor for a morning class to soon start.

What was said when they spotted Gina checking in at the front desk wasn't at all hetero-masculine unusual.  The men both agreed wholeheartedly (with sly grins on their faces) at the declarative statement, immediately upon its release.  Even I, as the overhearer, found it not at all out-of-line with my limited understanding of hetero-masculine reality.  

Nonetheless, I'm still unable to process it completely.  For seeing that car simply go from roadgoing to airborne continues to befuddle me.  What the fuck just happened?

It's shocking to me how much I exist within my own reality.  We all do really.  Isn't that unnerving?

I'm hoping to lean on a dear (hetero-masculine, non-Samson) friend, later on this week, for assistance in understanding where I should go from here.  

Ultimately, what naturally went down relative to this beautiful female's presence last week, there at the local Y, offered me a glimpse of something I'm so not familiar with.    

I'm truly at a loss at this point.  And, at the same time, so very grateful.  For I want to understand that which doesn't come instinctual for Rob.  

Why?

I have a deep respect for normalcy and hetero-masculine men in general.  Thanks be to God that planet Earth isn't populated solely by Robs (it would be far less interesting).

Wield Your Positive Influence Here Within Samson Society

One of the most substantial outcomes relative to teenage Rob wielding his (positive) influence happened during an (snow day) ice storm.  The year was likely somewhere around early 1988.  The Christmas prior, I'd been gifted a Yamaha keyboard (though I actually didn't play keyboard with any semblance of true ability).  

My best friend, Greg, on the other hand, did play keyboard with envious skill, and he'd just purchased his own Yamaha synthesizer (from Service Merchandise, no doubt) in response to having "test driven" my own.  

Since I was always looking to spend time with Greg, and knowing that we both enjoyed our mutual friend, Todd's companionship (who just happened to own a Casio keyboard), our keyboard trio, Infinity, serendipitously came together.

And man, oh man, did we three enjoy our time together, composing and practicing, practicing, practicing before finally performing (school talent shows, etc.).  And it all took root with the three of us sitting cross-legged on my small bedroom's cut-pile carpeted floor, laughing and carrying-on, as only us three nerdy Mississippi teens could do during a mid-January late '80s snow day.  

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Being cognizant of (& comfortable wielding) your positive influence is the very best toolset at your disposal as a Samson guy.  Each of us is unique with our specific gifting in this regard.  Some are writers, others are encouragers (spoken word), others still seemingly sages relative to most any circumstance.  And of course, it's a given that communities like Samson Society are perfectly suited to positive influencers.  How and why is this?   

(And though it's certainly priority number one to focus in on your individual recovery, there's still no reason to not keep as a very close second, the opportunistic influence you wield relative to supporting another's.)

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1.  Shared interests

First and foremost is recovery.  Every Samson guy can relate to that.  From there, it's usually humor and deep-seated respect that establish the parallel courses of so many men within Samson Society.  

2.  The need to run interference against despair

A true Samson guy enters in as a result of his recent confrontation with personal, marriage, vocational, spiritual crisis.  Many Samson guys have experienced suicidal thoughts / ideations as a result of this crisis.  Tenured Samson men are forever reminded of this starting point since they've lived it themselves.  As such, their positive influence isn't necessitated to ignore other guys' pain but to counterbalance it.  As a reminder that despair is not and will never be permanent.  Hope exists down the road.

3.  It's within the very DNA of a Samson Society meeting (format)

Every meeting you choose to attend, your presence positions you to influence, from the very moment you log / step foot in the door.  As Christians, carrying the Holy Spirit inside of us, we minister to each other therein.  During share time, as we break up into smaller groups, the opportunity for influence becomes more granular / fine-toothed as more individualized opportunity is placed in our lap.  

4.  Serving another man as his Silas is not unlike being Jiminy Cricket.

Who doesn't want an assigned / appointed friend to come alongside them during arguably the most trying season of their life?  Especially if that man has had the resolve to walk out some portion of his own recovery.  The very presence of one's Silas can do wonders to positively influence.  From there, his listening ear and thoughtful questions only add to the powerful elixir of relational accountability.   

5.  It feels absolutely natural to open your pocketbook and give back.

Positive influencers are not bashful towards putting their money where their heart is.  It's as simple as that.  

Lagniappe

I Love Men, But Regarding Black Men, Am I A Racist For Not Holding Them To The Same Standard / Assuming The Same Potential As I Do With White Men?

My first job (Jackson, MS) working at an architecture firm (I had yet to graduate from MSU architecture school) immediately opened my eyes to the realization that I definitely WAS NOT the only "standout" (weirdo) within humanity.  All in all, architects (& their employees) are uniquely observant / opinionated individuals, and I was no exception.  

There was an early 30s designer (colleague of mine) who'd no formal architectural training to speak of.  This man more or less held the position of marketing / copy editor on behalf of the sole proprietor architect whose name was over the door, yet his involvement therein was only the tip of the iceberg.  Though he was a real oddball, his primary talent - laid bare - was his very gifted hand at understanding proportion, scale and color as it applied to most any style of building design.  Hence, his input was seen as vital (& it most certainly was) to each and every set of schematics.  And that's what ultimately kept him gainfully employed.    

This designer wasn't at all unabashed.  Though my chagrin teenage self sat in the way, way back of the drafting room, it wasn't unusual for him to make his way to my drawing board - on occasion - in order to chat.  I distinctly remember one of those short exchanges having to do with him choosing to harshly rebuke himself for "going nuclear" on a fellow driver earlier that day.  In a nutshell, this guy explained to me, in exacting detail, what had gone down relative to him being cutoff whilst returning to the office after lunch.  Yet, he went on to admit that this shame-induced self-flagellation actually only occurred in proportion to the humiliation he described feeling upon realizing that the other driver was black.

Outright admitting to buying into this racially stereotypical (less competent) driver-centric aptitude came across as both audacious and outrageous to teen Rob.  I was shocked, for I'd never heard of such outspoken (rationalized via moral reverse engineering) bigotry, but whilst looking back, I cannot dismiss how guilty I am today for thinking (and even behaving) along the exact same lines.  And most of the time, not even realizing that I'm doing it (until I'm forced to marinate in its outcome / aftermath in lieu of brushing it off).

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Back in November 2023, my wife and I decided it was time to invest in a relatively small renovation project within our small abode.  This 1,550 square foot home is +/-23 years old, and as such, it's showing signs of understandable wear and tear.  Hence, these type of annual / bi-annual projects have been a priority throughout the past five years or so as we've attempted to stay ahead of Father Time / Murphy.  

The interiors showroom that we worked with on some previous R & R projects was called upon likewise this time around.  In the end, our focus ended up being to replace peeling / outdated vinyl wallcovering within our laundry room combined with upgrading all of our undercounter light fixtures (laundry room / kitchen).

The latter portion of our scope, due to it being electrical in nature, would be an easy accomplishment for the longstanding electrician we've relied on for years, but the former portion would require some fresh blood.  For the last vinyl wallcovering installer we'd utilized (who executed phenomenal workmanship) had recently become disabled due to a back injury.  

What to do?

Answer:  Rely on a referral from our friends at the local interiors showroom, of course.

What possibly could go wrong?

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Seeing potential in men, particularly young men, is both my gift and default.  For I'm an optimist relative to my outlook and always have been (which helps in this regard).

Within Samson Society, I love getting behind men and pushing.  With just enough tension to assist them within their individual recovery.  I do this via steadfast example / reliable demonstration (friendship) coupled with displaying rock solid interest in their individual story whilst never being hesitant to ask lots of questions.

The 95% of Samson guys are white.  Too, the vast majority of men I engage with day-to-day are as well.  Despite the fact that Mississippi is heavily populated by blacks (particularly the capital city, Jackson, which we live adjacent to) there're very, very few that orbit within Rob's sphere of influence.  

Therefore, the question is as follows:  Do I - by default - afford the same "potential outlook" onto black men (specifically young black men) as I do whites (particularly as a Christian)?

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The vinyl wallcovering removal / install laundry room project was eventually calendared for the first week of January 2024.  The majority of my girls were slated to be vacationing in the Redneck Riviera during that time (the Primadonna went to Hawaii to "study abroad", but that's another story), and this afforded me the opportunity to manage the expected onsite mess / inconvenience alone (which I was comfortable doing).  

Marvin (referred black vinyl wallcovering contractor) seemed adamant about affording himself the opportunity to examine the laundry room in advance of quoting the work (mid-December), but he never actually took the time to do this.  Therefore, the first hour of him actually starting the project, he was informing me that he'd need to revise his quote.  Keep in mind that I'd gladly coughed up a 10% deposit (based on the original quote) prior to him getting started.

Along with the revised proposal came a revised contract time (extension).  Nonetheless, I was undeterred, for all this seemed reasonable to me, circumstances / expectations being what they were.

As the days of this first week of 2024 soldiered on, I'd routinely arrive home in the evening after work to only briefly look into Marvin's workspace (laundry room) out of curiosity.  For the small crack in the door provided just enough proof that steady work was being accomplished.  

From there, Friday eventually came, upon which he began hanging the new vinyl wallcovering.  

When I came home that afternoon, he asked to be paid his final sum, under the guise that he would return Saturday to clean up / address punchlist items.  He cited hoping to "get to his bank before it closed" with my final check as he bolted from our abode.

Stupidly, I'd not allowed myself to doubt his intent for I was so ready to be done with having him there day after day (it's important to note that I'd made little to no effort to develop any semblance of a friendship with him).

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One of the first home improvements we made to our abode 23 years ago was adding gutters and downspouts.  The geotechnical report strongly recommended that we take immediate action relative to funneling water away from our home's foundation, therefore this was our initial investment therein.  

The contractor we hired to do this work failed to complete the punchlist (or even acknowledge it), therefore I literally tracked him down - the very next weekend - at his own home in order to confront him firsthand.  As a result of my tenacity, the very next day, he returned to complete his work, exceeding my expectations.  I remember feeling not only satisfied but staunchly vindicated for doing this "obligatory moral follow-up".

Keep in mind that this contractor was very, very white (he even had red hair, he was so white), very articulate, and "no doubt" intellectually capable.  And yes, I'd worked to develop some semblance of the rudiments of a friendly demeanor with him throughout the tenure of his contract time.

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Where are we at today with Marvin's work within our laundry room?  

All of it has to be completely redone.  The vinyl he installed must be removed with new wallcovering put in its place.  The cleanup work that I had to do within the small space (throughout that following Saturday & Sunday) was extreme.  Both the floor, doors, millwork, sink, small countertop were filthy with dried on solvent (wallcovering removal), drywall mud & dust.  He exerted zero effort to clean up (though he'd informed me - in passing - that he would certainly do so).

This project was and continues to be an unignorable albatross that we've had to deal with.  But it's also given me lots to think about (hence this post) which I'm grateful for.

When my sweet wife returned home (stepping initially into the laundry room from the garage with two of our three daughters), she began to weep.  Thankfully, I was at work when this occurred.  From there, she immediately began text messaging her husband (me) with high-definition photos of Marvin's shitty workmanship.

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I did send the beginnings of a punchlist to Marvin, but there was no response.  And frankly, I didn't expect one.  Nor did I take any initiative to track him down in order to hold him accountable.  My wife did loop-in the owners of the interiors showroom, and they confirmed that we were one of many unhappy homeowners relative to Marvin's recent incompetency.  

Why didn't I make any effort to hold this man accountable?

For the exact same reason my colleague chided himself for "going nuclear" whilst returning to the office from lunch.

Because he was black.  And not just black, but Mississippi (stereotypical) black (unfairly lumping them all in together).

If I'm completely honest, I literally DO / DID NOT SEE HIM WITHIN AN EQUAL LIGHT (as I would a white man) regarding potential, value as a human being.  In other words, LOST CAUSE is how I'd truthfully adjudicate Marvin.  And that is a tough truth to admit to!

Hence, for Rob, it was simply easier to find another vinyl wallcovering contractor (who's white) to fix the below par work Marvin left behind.  Cut my losses and move on (only to add one additional prejudice to my black / white scorecard).

My wife has asked me repeatedly, "Why did you pay this guy?  Didn't you even take the time to inspect his work?"  All I've been able to articulate to her in response is, "From the moment I met him, I made the subconscious decision to hold him to a much lower standard, therefore deciding then and there to simply prioritize enduring regret instead of keeping the bar intact."

Keep in mind too that I'm an architect.  Let that settle in for a few minutes.  For I couldn't even fall back on my professional credentials relative to overcoming my baked-in bigotry.  

Oh, wretched man that I truly am.  Color blind I am definitely not.  Please pray that I repent from this elevated attitude / outlook.

Lagniappe

Jesus January - Mid Month Update

Back in December, we had an all-together lunch with some friends whose daughter and son are longstanding friends (former schoolmates) of our children.  Christmas was around the corner, therefore everyone was in the holiday spirit, anticipating the annual celebration with all its traditions and (inevitable) headaches.  This couple had surprisingly (to us) been visiting our church, and as such, once we realized this, saw fit to make a concerted effort to recognize this exciting move via breaking bread together.

Not long into our lunch, the husband of this fantastic couple "laid bare" / admitted to his deep admiration for the band KISS.  I was intrigued.  I'd only heard of one other middle-aged guy similarly enthralled by the "Knights In Satan's Service", and again he too was a parent of our daughters' friends.

I sat there between bites of my Italian entree peering at photos (on his pocket computer) of he and his wife posing alongside KISS' bandmembers (backstage).  He went on to proudly exclaim that he'd seen the band in concert almost 40 times over the decades.  And to top it off, his two KISS pinball machines and signed guitars were some of his most prized possessions.

I asked when and how his passion for KISS originated.  His detailed answer left me unsurprised.  For as I'd assumed, it had taken root smack dab in the middle of his teenage years.

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It's been 15+ days since I've self-pleasured (masturbated).  I'm elated that my "Jesus January" fast is holding steady.  

Why am I doing this?

Though sexual fantasy / gay porn has long since been banished from my self-pleasure routine (by God's grace), I felt deeply convicted to come up with some cadence to briefly pause an established bi- (if not more) weekly trend.  My thinking was as follows:  how else might I conveniently learn via abstinence if I didn't intentionally pull back?

What's struck me the most is how much LESS shame I feel overall.  It's as if boyRob (who exists within my mind) is so very proud of manRob for acting as he has over the past two weeks.  In other words, my boyhood self is who's been bearing the brunt of the shame fallout relative to self-pleasure.  Even if I'm NOT lusting whilst doing so, shame is still manifesting itself as a result.  Why?

As an aside, keep in mind that my wife isn't interested in nurturing the sexual side of our marriage, and she hasn't been since becoming disabled in May of '20.  This realization has never bothered me (& it still doesn't).  In fact, I've often been deeply grateful to have self-pleasure techniques (originating from my boyhood) to fall back on.

Nonetheless, I'm finding - via Jesus January - that the boy inside hasn't been justly served via this laissez faire approach to manRob pulling on his wiener.

Let me repeat that.

Nonetheless, I'm finding - via Jesus January - that the boy inside hasn't been justly served via this laissez faire approach to manRob pulling on his wiener.

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In closing let's discuss pragmatics.  For Rob, lust-free masturbation experiences aren't at all extemporaneous affairs.  Especially if there's been little down time since the previous experience.  

As such, precious time / energy is relegated, and when you take habitual sessions into account, a sizable amount of time / energy (which could be allocated elsewhere) is utilized.

Of course, boyRob is keenly aware of this.  Particularly from the standpoint of how he sees himself TODAY as a 51-year-old man.

Throughout this life, he adjudicates his older self constantly, taking into account where / how / how much energy / resources are allocated across the entire spectrum of my / his adult life.  As such, it's boyRob who's kept me from becoming fanatical (as an adult) regarding any and all childhood passions that weren't deemed appropriate relative to my maturity (physical / emotional age) as a man.  But the exception to all of this has been self-pleasure.  For it's the one thing manRob has rebelled with.

But I've never realized just how disrespectful this undisciplined habit has been to boyRob 'till this farcical "Jesus January" idea came to fruition.  

So, the question now comes down to this:  What does he need from me in order to establish the respect I absolutely do wish to earn from him in regards to self-pleasure?  

I have no intentions of stopping the physical act of masturbation outright, but I can, most certainly, be more intentional about how often and under what circumstances I do this going forward.

Lastly, can I actually successfully abstain from self-pleasure for another 16 days?

We'll just have to wait and see.

Discovery / Narrative, Arousal = Architecture Of Sexuality VS. Longings / Triggers, Fetishes = Mobile Homes Of Lust

"I don't know much about art, but I know what I like."  [This is horseshit.]

Architecture, by definition, wouldn't exist were it not for critics.  Critics use their fine-tuned, scholarly adjudication skillset and from there, communicate to the masses what and why a building qualifies as architecture.  And they do this as an outpouring of their zeal for standout, outstandingly designed buildings.  Buildings which seemingly capture volumetric space in a masterful way (architect = master builder).

A worthwhile architectural critic, by definition, is exceedingly knowledgeable of their subject.  It's this knowledge that allows their critique to carry so much weight.

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Guys who find themselves within Samson Society typically fall into the category of sexuality aficionados.  I would argue many of these men entered into crisis (pre-Samson Society) of some sort due to their individual passion for sex colliding with their (in very simplified terms) longstanding / life-long isolated state (inability to find helpful knowledge / understanding therein).  

Religion undoubtedly can play a role in this cataclysm (the majority of Samson guys are Christians).  As such, I would argue that this then knowledge / understanding vacuum will occur alongside the false accusation that "No one else within the church is experiencing nor is as interested in sexuality as you are...FrEaK".  [This too is horseshit.]

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Porn, phone sex, hook-up & circle jerk roulette sites all provide pitifully unreliable information regarding sex, yet it's devoured by these men. Why?  Ease of private accessibility.  Too, (if they choose to take this step) transactional sexual relations (strip clubs, massage parlors, prostitution) further their woefully biased / distorted thinking.  Why?  Ease of private accessibility. 

And all of this internalization of such their favorite topic eventually manifests ruts within their minds.  Call them fetishes or triggers.  They're deep valleys within their grey matter equating to salacious comfort food of the ultra-processed Wal-Mart impulse-buy caliber.  

Hence, it's cheap, deadly fare.  Would you choose to dine out of a trash heap for each and every meal?  It's important to remember that although this is the least healthy means to find caloric sustenance, it's still sustenance.

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There has to be a healthy way for men - who're like us - to gain needed knowledge regarding sexuality in line with their individual discovery / narrative leading towards arousal.  

Now, what am I referring to when I say, "men like us"?  Go back to what I wrote earlier within this post.  

I'm referring to men who're passionate about sex and therefore deliberately ruminate on it.  Within the same vein as guys who're similarly passionate about other topics of interest such as cars, hunting, video games and so forth.  

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To become an architect, one must be taught via schooling then internship.  That, combined with the assumed extensive knowledge relative to building construction, go hand in hand.  But first & foremost, the individual must be a built-environment aficionado.  Otherwise, there's no zeal to motivate / discipline the man through the maturation process of learning.  

It's an arduous process that's not for the faint of heart.  Requiring time, dedication and a willingness to develop one's own rudimentary beliefs / narrative (ability to see) whilst embracing the high standards of qualified architectural design. 

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Where are plenty of men who've mastered their sexuality / sexual narrative, therefore what exactly should they be doing for the young men within the church / Christian circles who're secret sexual aficionados - perhaps as they too may be?

How do these young sexual aficionados reveal themselves to potential trusted mentors who've clearly mastered their sexuality / sexual narrative?

What exactly does that mentorship look like between this older and younger man?  How much of it is executed via example / posture versus specific instruction?

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At our church, besides the youth pastor, there's typically both a male and female youth intern.  Think of these co-ed interns as assistant youth pastors.  One of our recent (he's since moved away / out of that position) male youth interns took two teenage brothers under his noble wing.  These young men came from a less than ideal familial setup, but both of them were respectfully close (to each other) in line with their dedication to our church's youth program.  Independent, confident, physically impressive, demure.  These were all descriptors perfectly suited to these young men. 

Because of these boys' unconventional family setup combined with their undeniable masculine (stoic combined with physical) presence, engaging with them could be intimidating.  Particularly considering how fiercely protective they were relative to their out-of-the-ordinary household roots. 

But this male youth intern was as equally masculine / physically impressive, and therefore not in the least dissuaded from putting in the effort needed to befriend these young men.  In fact, the running joke within the youth group was this intern could easily win the role for the next silver screen version of the renowned X-men, Wolverine (Hugh Jackman's breakout role).

So, what are the odds that one of these brothers is a sex aficionado like you and I are?  What are the odds both are, particularly considering the stress placed on them via their aforementioned unconventional familial setup?

I'd say they're pretty good odds.

The most heartfelt development regarding this tale is how this mentorship / big brother role that our church's youth intern bravely embraced ultimately wielded a romance.  A romance between (the next) Wolverine and the two brothers' older sister (she's in college).

During our Christmas Eve service, I could see (from the choir loft) Wolverine seated on the end of the pew next to his lovely significant other (the brothers' sister).  Then there was mom and dad and finally, the two brothers, on the opposite end.

It made my heart swell.

The notion that this powerfully influential mentor could potentially become these two boys' brother-in-law literally took my breath away.  How cool is that?

Most of us didn't have the experience I've described here.  No youth intern (or otherwise) mentor to come alongside us sexuality aficionados.  Nevertheless, read on.

Lagniappe