A Samson Brother's Poem

Yesterday, last week, a year ago this morning
I was sitting, still thinkin about where I'm going 
I'm tired, worn down and out but when did that happen? 

It's hard to point, grab or hold, behold the past that flashes fast out of my sight right when I fight for clarity this part of me was never free yet how do I see what wasn't me? 

The mad dash, sudden crash and hopeful snatch of something finally real inside my hopeful cry full of the gift of desperation. Take a step, no thats the wrong one, back to square one, forgotten floor God's in it with me and just for a second, I see something. 

My wornout life, half my strife has hurt my wife and though its trite my flight was striking hard at hearts like firey darts of doubt pain shame and blame it scarred my name and mades me want to fake my fame so I could be the same as people who did not seem to not be seen like I was or to be unseen like I was by Mom or Dad, who both forgot me, teachers friends, I had nobody, noone there to talk about the darkness or deep desires of heart, sure there was God, but he was a way to please my Mom so she would feel like I was good not hurt, smart not falling short of expectations, yet I failed so much in her eyes it formed my eyes to see what she saw just a failed, broken, beaten boy who never was or will be enough to bouy above it all, but sink. 

Deep and down down drown in all the pain shame, let's do this again...

Patterns repeat and repeat and re preach all the lies to my heart that you can not get far and you just should give up, no point to go on, there is freedom from needs in oblivion. 

How do I flip the coin, reroll the dice, make the next move that will bring me new life? My deep suspicion is that this kind of mission is one that I cannot hope to do without Him. 

So what do I say I don't know how to speak it. Christianese isn't the dialect that feels good. So what other words can I use to describe someone who would could has changed me? Who I spat on and cursed at, drowned out and shut down, hated, ignored, I chose dirt over gold. 

It's especially hard when the steps are all ragged, I look back and can't see past the ravage. The dust is still settling, the print sets still tumbling to ditch after ditch after ditch after ditch. 

Yet above it all, in the dust, in the ditch, there is a still current, a gentle pull forward, a quiet, silent, knowing, a seekable presence. 

An answer.

A promise. 

Keep going.

Weirdo Commitment

The most disappointing Samson "National Retreat" for Rob was one of the first, if not the first, I ever attended.  The year was likely 2017, and it was during the autumn month of November.  The setting was a state park in middle Tennessee (not too far outside of Nashville).  Originally, this "National Retreat" was touted as a "Samson leadership retreat" with the focus being Samson brothers interested in / currently hosting meetings.  

The reason for this was the primary focus of this particular national Samson event was to introduce the notion of launching virtual Samson meetings via Zoom or whatever platform was available back in the day (2018).  

The disappointment came from who I ended up having to room with (we were housed in a motel wing that was attached to the State Park Lodge building).  At the very last minute, a certain in-person Samson brother agreed to attend (at the behest of my Silas), and off the four of us went.  Upon our arrival, I swallowed my anger and compliantly chose to room with this loser.

It's actually quite commendable that I ever returned after this frustrating National Samson Retreat.  Especially considering that everyone else within the local Samson community hung up their hats - mostly for good - pertaining to this annual event.  Which, of course, left me on my own to attend throughout the years going forward.  

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Over the past two years, I've taken control of my roommate situation (I gave up on the bunkhouses in '23), but last year resulted in me quickly realizing that year two would be it for me and a similarly unique (weirdo) Samson brother (from the Deep South) sharing sleeping quarters.

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4-5 years ago, a dear friend (he being more close to me than I to him) from GA drove over to Eva, TN, having agreed to attend that year's National Retreat.  He chose to stay offsite in some sort of state park cabin.  I came to find out later that he spent the majority of his time at the cabin texting / talking to his wife in light of him being far more comfortable with her than (strange, foreign) Samson guys (or really any guys, for that matter).  What a disappointment it was to find that out.

Nonetheless, we remained friends until earlier this year.

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When I was a high school student, I was active in our church's youth ministry.  And I was so because I immediately understood its finite specialness (very, very few adolescents had access to what I was privileged to be a part of).  Therefore, every summer, attending the youth summer trip was nonnegotiable for Rob.  Specifically, I did this because I knew there were only so many opportunities therein.  Because I was such the anomaly within that group (persona, school, demographic), I often ended up assigned to summer trip room with the other freaks.  And I grew to love it.  They were so much fun to bunk with!  Plus, there's simply always been a place in my heart for the inevitable weirdos.

My wife was one of those.  That's one of the many reasons I was attracted to her as both a friend and a lover.  She was just so weird (& thankfully still is).

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At last year's Summit, in light of my then desire to find "a new roommate direction" going forward, I took it upon myself to plan WELL IN ADVANCE of '26 by hastily asking a new friend (who I met during the first day at the NM Summit) about rooming together in '26.  What was hysterical regarding this desperate attempt was my new friend was an exceedingly obvious cool kid (great looking, upper class demographic, straight, etc.) who was not at all comfortable committing as such so far in advance (much less with Rob)!

Thankfully, earlier this year, my (weirdo!) Silas agreed to take this big man on campus' position.  This will amount to such the blessing.  

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I'm excited too about visiting Michigan.  I love and have almost always loved automobiles.  Visiting Motor City will no doubt be a treat in that regard.  Too, traveling through Ann Arbor (home of Car & Driver) will be special and symbolic.  

Attending the Samson Summit this year will represent a true leveling up for Rob.  Partly because Samson is at a juncture that's destined to position itself well for another decade (at least), and having embraced the virtual community to the degree that I have (since December '21), I feel 100% "part of the team" versus the gay guy from Mississippi who's only involved due to his internal dedication / commitment.

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A month or so ago, I had a Samson brother decouple from me as his Silas.  And though that's not unusual / inevitable, due to our VERY short tenure as Silas / Silee, I have to admit that it was jarring.  And especially so from the standpoint that I'd been experiencing (immediately prior to his decoupling) an annual (vocational) stress / shame conundrum (2+2=5).  

This brother was no doubt hiding something to have aborted, but it still felt like a "this is all my fault" gut punch.  Silas / Silee relations need to gestate properly in order for the true benefits / measured latitudes to be reaped.  Nonetheless, between the two of us, that simply wasn't to be. 

Last night, out of the blue, I was asked to be the Silas of a man I haven't spoke with since late summer.  He happened to be part of one of my newcomers meeting "classrooms" earlier this year, and though we'd only had one follow up meeting (at my request due to his unique roots), there was zero commitment going forward.  And this young man is absolutely out of my league, yet due to my sincerity / care, that seems to be of no consequence.  As such, I'm hopeful going forward for connecting with a man who's that much potential truly is breathtaking to think through.

I'm very blessed to be a part of this parachurch ministry.  It's very exhausting but never not worth it.  For me, it truly feels / demands similarly as family does.  

Is It Worth It? / Wiener Think / Realizing Recovery Is One's True Identity

It is worth it (for your wiener's sake)?  Specifically, is it worth it for that wiener dangling between your legs?  Circumstances being what they are, often times, in light of the explicit pursuit, it most definitely is.

Read on.

I attended the 2026 Mississippi Book Festival a few weekends ago, and had the privilege to end the day listening (I was in the minority as a male attendee) to Ms. Belle Burden discuss here runaway tome, Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage.  She detailed (read aloud, for perhaps the umpteenth time) a portion of her memoir that is one of the most popular.  That being the verbiage detailing the public (to his wife & two daughters) declaration that her husband was no longer happily married and therefore demanding a divorce.  There within the Methodist Church Sanctuary, her amplified voice released the dry-as-a-bone few paragraphs to the audience as the moderator's countenance winced dramatically.  I must say that it was a heady, clinical descriptor, beautifully summarizing her and her children's now difficult plight as their shafted position of rejection instantaneously took root.

Towards the end of her session, Ms. Burden was asked (audience Q & A) if she'd ever marry again.  She stated only if "he and I could live in separate apartments".  The resulting laughter was no doubt nervously somber / low key.  

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Yesterday, (10/3) YouTube's algorithm brought me to a West Hollywood ("The Gay Therapist") therapist who was interviewing a young man (supposedly a former Mormon) who'd painfully, despondently, victoriously(!/?/!) embraced the homosexual lifestyle.  The therapist was totally oblivious towards the Mormon church (as are many who're outsiders therein), therefore his interrogation was laughably inept.

What was clear was how much the young (very handsome) ex-Mormon had walked away from in light of his gay horniness / wiener, and not only in relation to his church but his heritage / pedigree.  He made that exceedingly clear.  For he proudly articulated how faithful he'd been to his beliefs / Mormon culture (graduating from BYU, undergoing a 2-year mission) until he wasn't.  

But hey, he did get to have gay sex...in the end.  And arguably, there's no more intense (wiener) sexual "lifestyle" than the gay one (particularly when you're young, horny and very physically attractive).

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Feeling that tingle or dick itch, as I like to call it, is a powerful motivator.  Think of it as wiener think.

Whether you abandon your wife / children whilst residing within your multi-million-dollar (second) home on Martha's Vineyard, your faith / heritage as a deeply religious man, squander your conscience / professional credentials as an employer / employee and on and on, the answer to the question is a resounding YES! outside of the ethos of who you truly are as a man.

But what's at work here?

I believe in all three of these cases, mundanity plays a sizable role along with the (often) oversimplified risk / reward dynamic.  And who can forget the unequivocal male need for respect (both self & otherwise)?

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The Heart single (Brigade album) from the '90s proclaims "All I Want To Do Is Make Love To You".  The song, written for Don Henley (by Mutt Lange), makes much more sense therein versus being performed via Ann & Nancy Wilson.  Why?

Because it's worth it for men to behave this way.  100% worth it.  Even if they have to fabricate the desire (hire a prostitute).

Women, on the other hand, embrace security.  Feelings of security don't emanate from the clitoris.  And no woman (in her right mind) would stop to pick up a hitchhiker at night, during a rainstorm, prior to taking him to a motel to just fuck before slipping out the next morning to continue forward with her life.

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Whilst serving as an employee, whether in the private or public sector, so long as gay porn was available for me to dabble in throughout the workday, I would make time to consume those images.  Why?  

I did this for the same (but perhaps, arguably "safer") reason(s) the men cited above did what they did.

Except in my case, the images were so stunningly, illusively vicarious.  Particularly whilst looking back on my middle-school years and how they served to bridge between the then (non-explicit) and now (explicit).  And oh my gosh were they ever explicit!  

As such, the pull felt impossible to resist.  And yes, I hoped to get caught just as Mr. Davis anticipated making that jaw-dropping speech to his then attorney wife, Belle Burden / the young Mormon BYU student burst forth via all that pent up homo-energy.

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What's really frightening though about all of this wiener thinking / neediness is how much a gamble it is to deduce which, if any, of these men will regain the disciplined self-control that separates us / them from the four-legged kind of God's creation.   

And what might bring that about, ultimately?

I'll share one thing with you that absolutely won't.  Anger.  Low, simmering anger.  Towards others, God, oneself.  

Ms. Burden's tome certainly didn't / won't help matters between these ex-eses.  Nor will sitting in for YouTube interviews with (clearly) ill-prepared / deeply biased interviewers.  

An immense, solidly gut-wrenching sense of defeat is what did it for me.  Combined with someone I deeply respected looking me straight in the eye and passing demonical judgement.  In other words, there was no cheering section for Rob / proverbially optimistic naysayers.  I was utterly alone and without hope.  

And yet, my wiener think really hadn't resulted in any major relational injury.  I knew this deep down.  I hadn't physically cheated nor pivoted away from my beliefs.  No one got hurt but Rob, in the end.  But therein lay the deep-seated singular finality of it all.  For hurting Rob wasn't / isn't at all easy (it's one of the primary strengths enabling me to become an architect).  Until September 2013 rolled around.

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Last night, I dreamed I was back in architecture school, yet the building was not the one I haunted either in Starkville or Jackson (MSU:  '90 - '95).  This was a new space with unfamiliar, much younger (perhaps I was young too) colleagues.  And the dream was so very vivid that whilst awaking, I was so very relieved to realize that "it was just a dream!" (I felt woefully unprepared to go back to school).

And I have these sorts of dreams too, very often, about returning to my former (private sector) architecture firm employer ('96 - '06).  Again, I literally feel as if I'm choking on the panic I'm experiencing therein due to the vividity and familiarity.

Why?

Because it was just a huge misunderstanding.  Somehow there'd been a reverse time jump (or somesuch), and here I was again. 

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Samson Society, ultimately, became my mistress.  My relationship with this ministry was / has become tantamount to every gay sexual voyeuristic consumption only sanctimoniously / properly filtered through a Judeo-Christian hierarchy (The Fact, The Path, The Pact).  

Returning to that state of immense loneliness is such the ill-equipped notion that I'd not even know where to begin.  

The Importance Of Putting Church First

If the church doesn't endure, we all suffer, if not completely falter as the human race.  As such, I do not want my (geographic) community to end up churchless for it serves my personal Jerusalem.  That may sound like a silly notion for someone living in central Mississippi, but I'm by no means one to make assumptions / take anything seemingly ubiquitous for granted.  Situations / trends / worldview & priorities therein can change overnight.  Therefore, you're going to find me & my house prioritizing the church - attendance, tithing / giving, volunteering - 'till we're called home to glory.

I'm so grateful Bob & Darlene (my parents) made church attendance a priority early on in their marriage, and they continue to do so to this day (my dad was ordained as a deacon as a very young man).  And this wasn't an arbitrary church selection.  Instead, they considered their needs, background & the resources therein, and I'm convinced as a result of a fantastic church choice, all three of us were better off.  To summarize:  Our involvement therein grew us forward, cementing our love for Christ / the community of believers.

Now, just because that church choice had certain attributes / demographics baked-in doesn't, by any means, imply that it was / would have been the best / most appropriate choice for every family.  Absolutely not.  Bigger doesn't mean anything.  Nor does Southern Baptis.  Instead, families need to find / support / invest in churches that meet them well / where they're at right then.

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My first Silas was the Youth Pastor at our family's church (Lakeside Pres).  The year was 2009.  Chris came to me, describing himself unabashedly as a "porn addict".  I'd never heard that phrase, but he was serious as a heart attack.  3-4 months later, Christ was officially on probation with our church's elders (though NOT as a direct result of his "extracurricular sexual sin activity").  Having a wife + three beautiful children to support financially, he quickly circled back to Rob, doubling down on his outcry for help.

Why me?  What could I do to help?  (I too was using my fair share of Internet porn at the time, which I admitted to.)

In the end, I came away a changed man after walking intentionally with Chris for well over 18 - 24 months.  Every aspect of my life felt reinforced in light of the relational accountability found within that friendship.  Plus, there was simply the deep-seated love that developed between the two of us.  It truly was fantastic!  

Now, let me declare the exclamation point portion of this short-lived, intensely bright friendship that forced me to adjudicate the role I believed Christ's church must (continue to) play within my (& my family's) life.

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My local (outside of Samson Society) best friend came into my life 3-4 years ago.  He's a lumberjack of a man with a heart of gold.  The gateway for this unlikely friendship to blossom / cultivate was Lakeside Pres.  To be more specific, it was truly hinged on ushering in his oldest daughter / making her comfortable therein (church attendance), and I did this with a reliable ace up my sleeve.

My youngest daughter (who's about my friend's oldest daughter's age).

These two girls couldn't be more different in terms of personality.  As such, I was pleased to see them become fast friends, and from there, my friend's daughter quickly warmed up to not only attending church but specifically, youth activities.

Until she wasn't.

For time has passed and this now 15-year-old girl is far more reticent / outspoken than her former 13-year-old self.

And to top that off, it's not only the daughter that's turned her nose up to attending our church.  My friend's wife is right there with her. 

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Chris and I wrestled (almost literally) over his vocational future (IN or OUT of the church?) after he was given notice (January 31, 2012 - which happened to be his b'day) of his pending termination date (August 1, 2012) from our church, though finally, he and I agreed that it would be best for him to at least acknowledge his "porn addiction" to his supervisor (Assistant Pastor).

In other words, let the cat out of the bag in hopes of finding help / healing / learning to actually be truthful versus a sexual deviant.

But at the last minute, he changed his mind to make that confession.

Therefore, I went alone and did it for him.

As you might imagine, it torpedoed our friendship, but I had no regrets for that action / choice aligned with my love for the church.  Chris was beginning to receive pity endorsements from his supervisors, none of which would have happened had they known the truth about him.

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Tomorrow is death day for my local BFF.  I call it that because it's the date his father unexpectedly passed away a few years prior to me having the good fortune to meet him.  I'll reach out as a courtesy, letting him know I'm praying for he and his during this difficult time.

He'll likely be spending the day (as well as the majority of the weekend) back home in rural MS in honor of his late father.  His widowed mother is still living there along with his two siblings.

Of note is the fact that this week the '26 Lakeside Pres youth trip is ongoing.  As was expected, my friend's daughter chose not to attend.  

If my friend doesn't make it back to the Jackson Metro in time on Sunday morning (to rally the familial troops), none of them will make an appearance at our church.  Instead, they'll simply sit and home and doom scroll social media.  

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How do you rank church?  Is it a high priority for you and yours?  Do you hang with folks who're similarly outlooked regarding the body of Christ?  I thought so.

So do I / we.    

The Young Samson Brothers I Love

Firstly, let me define young because I'm not necessarily referring to physical age.  

I'm referring to reared completely (adolescence onward) within an Internet saturated society (w/ little to no digital guardrails therein).  And, of course, if they're Samson brothers, that means they're men who have very healthy libidos.

I've closely befriended two as of late.  One is white, had an upper-class upbringing and struggles with some mental health history.  The other is Hispanic, had a lower-class upbringing.  The former is clean cut and saintly.  If you didn't know any better, you'd swear he was Mormon.  The latter is very chatty and suave.  Confident and leaderly.  Respectful of his heritage yet disparaging of its cultural "trappings".  

Both cherish(ed) their virginity enough to save themselves for their respective marriage beds.  

Both have successful careers, are physically healthy and committed in their Christian faith (both are Catholic).

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What pains me regarding these two is how practically impossible it is for them to imagine their life sans utilizing the Internet to access salacious material. 

Here's a snippet from the Mormon-like Samson brother (written / shared during the latter half of this past weekend) writing in his journal regarding the explicit content he binged upon for +/-1 hour Saturday, (10/11) evening:  

"...both involved one male and one female engaging in intercourse I would describe as aggressive and hardcore. The acts depicted included oral sex, kissing, touching, vaginal sex from various positions, and even anal sex. The third video, which I spent shorter time on due to the fact that while watching it is when I reached orgasm, involved one male and two females, with the male receiving oral sex from both females. This third video was different from the others in that its presentation was more “home made.” The performers were conversing beforehand, and it felt more realistic, whereas the other videos were more professionally produced (i.e. steady camera, music in the beginning, and not as much dialogue or parts of the video other than sexual activity. One thing that I believe has changed (for the worse part) over the course of my use of porn is that depictions of male aggression (“taking charge” if you will)..."

The incredibly intelligent, articulate, handsome young man who penned this was infected long ago with the private gift / curse of readily accessible digital porn.  Accessible to children easily / smartly / sveltely.  Click, type, type, click.  Wet pussy.  Olympic-grade coitus.  Lights, camera, fuck.

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No need to darken the door of a bookstore / meander back to the periodicals in hopes of not being spotted, or similarly (but far more pay dirt) would be the adult bookstore vanquish with its back room lit by spray-painted incandescent A-lamps hanging from bare electrical cords. 

Weren't things just so much better back then?

In a way, yes.

For these two young men would likely have never found their eyeballs scorched by thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of pornographic photos / videos prior to either of them graduating high school.

Do you realize how fucked up I'd be had I had access to the Internet as a boy / teen?

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One of my first "Silees" was a young man similar to these two.  He was a local dude (in-person Samson group) who's still faithful to the in-person Samson meeting paradigm - after ALL THESE YEARS.  Years and years of recovery have transpired since I had the privilege to first meet Blake.  And, as such, seeing his slow-mo recovery gives me hope for these two virtual Samson brothers.

Is it harder for them due to the inability to even imagine a world sans the Internet?  Of course, it is.  

For us middle-agers, imagine having to give up the microwave oven, or at least, only using it to actually cook food versus warming it up.  Talk about feeling setback in spite of our peers unrequited defrosting, popcorn popping and days-old pizza zapping.  

 

Consuming Strife, Perpetuating Envy & Ultimately Relegating Tribalism (Your Washing Machine Jerusalem)

As humans, we're hard pressed to not become more and more biased / cliquish as we age.  Why?

Advancing forward year to year inevitably compiles situational biases as life is lived out.  And even the most high-spirited of us, whilst cornered, will divulge their private prejudices (if oh so subtlety).  

How might one resist this inevitability / slow down it's wane (infection) on our grey matter?

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I believe your greatest weapon against this is curiosity.  A true commitment to staying genuinely curious towards other human beings, their lives and viewpoints.  And this curiosity must be a driver of questions, and definitely NOT to incriminate by proving contrast (between yourself & someone else) but instead as my young friend Bobby would wield it.

Bobby is the son of one of our church elders.  He's in his late 20s, but has the intelligence / emotional maturity of a 10-12 year old.  As such, life for him is fresh and new every day because he doesn't have the intelligence (confidence / obliqueness / memory) of an adult.  And Bobby isn't one of these shy "kids".  Instead, he's vibrant and full of life, constantly on the edge of a demure adolescent outlook though never achieving that milestone.  

Bobby never meets a stranger, and if he has any inkling that someone's willing to engage with him, he's going to work hard to satiate his curiosity by interrogating.  But due to him having the outlook of a 10-12 year old, it's readily apparent that there's no underlying self-seeking motive within his approach.  Instead, he's genuinely programmed to learn (what his limited brain will allow), and though it can be disconcerting at times to always be on the receiving end of that, Bobby's approach stands to reason for me as a Christian.

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Removing oneself from social media is another step towards maintaining a point of view that's centered on wholesale love in its purest form.

Westerners wholeheartedly put their faith in corporations.  Moreso than in any other institution (think government, family).  And this faith is very difficult to shake unless longstanding corporate brands begin to habitually disappoint and therefore lose their coveted brand luster.

Technology companies, due to the almost miraculously sophisticated work they do, gain and maintain corporate credence much faster than their Blue Chip brethren.  For a software application / online "world" appears light years more mystical than a washing machine or automobile.  

Therefore, we get lazy as consumers and hooked into "worshipping at the thrones" of these massively overvalued social media companies by giving them enormous amounts of attention / time.  Attention / time with digital creations that our minds simply weren't designed to handle / engage with sans tremendously negative influence.  For social media's one purpose is to generate strife / dissonance amongst its users (primarily through envy).  And this strife isn't, of course, face-to-face.  Instead, it's one step removed since it's solely catalogued online where avatars represent and, in turn, tribes are reinforced.

Are there good intentions behind many of those who engage in social media?  I think so.  But social media's main goal is to deeply hook with the one goal of "learning" as much as they can catalog about their billions of users.  For this data is very, very valuable in terms of actively manipulating via advertising.  

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When you purchase a washing machine, you bring it home, plug it into the wall and start washing clothes.  It's a closed loop transaction.  If the machine performs / holds up to your satisfaction, you may choose to purchase another from the same corporation years into the future.  As such, there's a clear divide between you and the corporation since your decision to buy was one and done.

Imagine a washing machine that's free and seemingly the most sophisticated available, but since it costs you nothing, the corporation that provided it has full discretion to gather all manner of data about its use by your catalogued household.  And that corporation readily sells that data to other corporate entities from every conceivable corner of the free enterprise system.  At the same time, the clothes you wash in the machine (along with all the inevitable soiling therein) become entangled / enmeshed (& vice versa) in light of your chosen washing machine Jerusalem.   

Hence, if you've got a ton of dirty laundry to clean, that amounts to an awful lot of granular details being loosed into the plumbing at various pressurized degrees.  Inevitably, your clothes, because they're "communal cleaned", don't look nor wear as they did prior to washing, and that's due to the residue / bleed over that's impossible to avoid with the free washing machine / its communally plumbed system.

But over time, and due to the (seemingly overnight) billions of free washing machine user base, you quickly grow into wearing clothes that look, feel and smell like everyone else's (solely within your Jerusalem, right?).  For they're "everywhere / being worn by everybody".

And, oh my goodness, let's not forget that the washing machine is free!

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Earlier this year, I had dinner with my aforementioned, low intelligence friend, Bobby.  Unfortunately, my work day (it was a Friday) was the absolute worst it's ever been (since coming to work for my parents in 2013).  How I wish, in light of this, that I'd simply postponed our time together.

But instead, I followed through, meeting Bobby as we'd planned in spite of my foul mood.

In light of my frustrating day, my tongue became sharper and sharper throughout the meal.  I cut Bobby down easily with my cruel quips / "observations".  

As you can imagine, my friend is easily confused by any form of sarcasm.  As such, if he's a target to enough of it, he'll quickly shut down in frustration.  By the time I had him back to his parents' abode, he was sealed tight (lipped).  

From there, I drove to the Y (for an early evening swim) feeling like such the louse.  For I knew that juncture would change the course of our friendship forever.

Yet, come Sunday morning, Bobby immediately made a beeline to Rob in order to let me know how he'd forgiven me for being such the asshole two days prior.

I remember thinking it was too soon.  And it was.  But Bobby valued the friendship / relationship more than his feelings.  In other words, he put those aside - immediately - in light of lost time / opportunity if our friendship were to completely go south.  

And I realize Bobby isn't a typical late 20s adult.  Nonetheless, I can learn from him and his approach both as a curious bug and a forgiving, faithful companion.  

As such, this is what I know.  I must remember too steer clear of situational strife (to the best of my ability) prior to engaging with him or others in light of my tendency to be influenced negatively therein.  For it truly does bleed over / change me, for the worse, from the inside out.

Being A Contrarian

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

Fast forward...

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

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

Now, back to my postulating. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

unplanned

singular

immaturishly unstable (emotional)

upbringing. 

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

My Smoking Hot Friendboy / Brother + The Swimmer Angel

I'm an only child.  As such, I'm independent to a fault and hardly anything ruffles my feathers - outside of my home (I have no idea if that's at all related to being an only).  Essentially, I'm the opposite of flamboyant within my day-to-day life.  Ain't nothing too unexpected / out of the ordinary gonna trip up 'ole Rob, Jr.

Combine with that a genuine sensitivity to emotions.  Now, for those of you that know me, this may not appear to be the case, but it's the truth.  Essentially, when I allow myself to feel, it's a pure, unadulterated experience that makes a lasting impression.  I believe this is due too to my only child upbringing.  For dealing with same-sex attraction throughout my growing up years, I chose to sort and learn from my feelings therein.  Otherwise, I would have ended up either a chemical addict or dead.  

Recognizing these two attributes, God's not shy about throwing me curveballs.

Essentially, I now have a what amounts to a younger brother.  I've written about this Christian (non-Samson) guy before, lamenting about his penchant to prioritize certain (masculine) hobbies over religious activities / commitments in tandem with tolerating a wife whose immaturity oftentimes leaves my head scratching.

And this guys all into Rob.  And I believe that's due to him NOT being an only child (he has two close-in-age siblings).  As such, I've simply moved into position as brother as a result of both our platonic chemistry and need.  

All this being said, I cannot truly comprehend being interdependently tied to a permanent, familial community.  My relationship with my parents attests to this.  Therefore, seeing how emotionally tethered he is to me, even at this stage of our 3-year friendship, blows my mind.

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Now, let me address the physical side of our brotherhood.

If you were look up the word masculine in the dictionary, you'd see a photo of my friend.  In line with that, if you were to cram every one of my masculine archetype personifications into one man, you'd pretty much have my brother.  Hence, each time I'm around him feels surreal due to the fact that's he just so damn physically impressive. 

And just so you know, whenever I introduce him to family / other friends, there's typically some blank stares due to the impossible to ignore oddball coupling.

It's some weird shit.

And that's all I'll say about that.

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Now back to the following statement:  I cannot truly comprehend being interdependently tied to a permanent, familial community.  My relationship with my parents attests to this.  Therefore, seeing how emotionally tethered he is to me, even at this stage of our 3-year friendship, blows my mind.

Every time we rendezvous, it feels that much more permanent.  And this permanency solidifying whilst he and I both are consistently / healthily adding to our individual circle of friends - both personally & professionally.  In other words, it isn't, by any means, a codependent friendship. 

What's hardest for me is the VOID short circuiting my ability to comprehend his love / respect for Rob.  This leaves me feeling out of sync with reality.  And it can be jarring.  Especially when he's hurting and needs my care.  As such, my sympathetic gestures feel disingenuous whether it's a word or touch.

And the VOID has been on a roll as of late.  I feel and see so very much blank space whilst looking inward, and that's tremendously frustrating / depressing.  As such, I gravitate to gay porn when these feelings hollow me out enough.  

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I wrapped up my work yesterday, (9/5) not long after mid-afternoon prior to doing some shopping and then finally landing at the Y for a swim.  It was around 6 PM, therefore with it being Friday, things were slowly beginning to clear out (they close at 8 PM).  The indoor pool is well used throughout the week since it's one of the only ones in the Metro Jackson area.  As such, I tend to feel fairly intimidated asking about open lanes, particularly if a swim team is practicing outright.  Nonetheless, the rule is that they're to obligate two for members (except between 4-5 PM) but often they don't.  

Fridays typically are different though.  Especially early evening on Fridays.  And that's one of the reasons I swim then.  It's sort of like when I first started strength training at age 36.  As such, there's a distinct slowness to truly warming up to a new (athletic) setting.

Prior to putting my bag down in the locker room, I always stick my head in the natatorium before changing (to get a lay of the land).  Yesterday evening was no different.  Surprisingly (disappointingly?), there was an elementary girls' swim team practicing, though it looked as if they didn't have the entire pool.  

As I walked back into the locker room, another man (a few years younger than me) followed my lead, but when he returned from peering into the natatorium, he asked me if I was there to swim.  And then he said something that struck me.  It had to do with him vouching for both of us in light of our intent to share the pool with the children.  

I was seen, and I mean really seen.

By this point, I was in my swim trunks, towel in hand.  I let him know how long I'd be in the pool (needing a lane) and then I made my way.  He then volunteered to take the handicap ramped lane (on the far end), but I told him I had no issues using it.

And then I was swimming.  Just as I always do.  Trying to zone out and think about nothing in particular. But I quickly realized that he was too, and surprisingly, in the adjacent lane.  And it was weird because every other Friday evening, there'd be no one but me & the lifeguard in this enormous, barrel-vaulted room, yet tonight there was this very kind, very comfortable man right there alongside.  

I eventually introduced myself, and he complimented me on my build (in response to me disclosing how often I typically swim during the week), using that as a segue to disclose that he'd just returned to MS and started back swimming a few weeks prior.  

After a half hour, just he said he would, he wrapped up his routine.  We talked further (about churches & how I had another friend with his identical name), and he got out.  I told him I'd gladly give him my card were my wallet not locked up in my car.  In reaction, he assured me we'd run into each other again there at the pool.

I felt so fortunate to have had that encounter with that stranger for such a time as that.

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Why?

For it was so sweet and so needed.  It represented for the first time, having swam consistently within that space over the past three months, an experience where someone sincerely made the effort to be kind to me in such a way that felt genuine and distinct.  And of all places, it was whilst dripping wet, wearing only swim trunks, there in the Y pool.

I wonder if that man was an angel.  Could he have been heaven sent?

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Let me say this in closing.  As you can tell, I'm needing some clarity regarding who I am, what my meld is and how that meld has impacted others (friends, clients, family) throughout my life.  And perhaps clarity isn't the right word.  Maybe a better word is truth / reformatting.

The VOID needs to collapse in on itself, laying the foundation for change.  Otherwise, I can't serve myself with any dignity / accuracy nor my brothers.  Whether they be old or new ones.

That Tinge Of Infatuation

I've been hosting a virtual Samson Society newcomers' meeting since last December.  During the most recent one I hosted, I felt the tinge of infatuation for one of the newcomers.  

This hasn't happened before.  

The meeting is very straightforward (standard format meeting slide deck overview), and typically there isn't much discussion overall.  Nonetheless, each man is asked to relay where he's checking in from, what brought him to Samson Society and what he's hoping to get out of participating within this ministry.  These shares are usually between 2-8 minutes in length, and none of the content is unlike anything I haven't heard prior.

At the tail end, I ask each man if they're ready to "take the plunge into Samson Society feet first", and with a positive response (95% say YES!) sees me sending a specific robo-email invitation to login to www.samsonsociety.com / Samson Society's Slack community.  

And that's it in a nutshell.

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So, what do we as men do when we feel that circumstantial tinge (towards either females or males) within settings that are in no way romantically appropriate?

Do these feelings (themselves) provide a license to pursue the individual that's responsible for these sexual sparks?

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Here're the pragmatics -

Firstly, it's important for me to disclose that the Samson newcomer that served as the "infatuation catalyst"  didn't, in anyway, intentionally captivate that portion of my emotional core.  Instead, it had everything to do with how he looked within the Zoom thumbnail / how he sounded mixed with what he said exactly (which wasn't anything out of the ordinary).  Not to mention my own state of mind for such a time as that.

Secondly, there's the knee-jerk reaction that must be dealt with.  And that is this:  The desire to pursue that individual on behalf of these unexpectedly electrifying feelings.  

And thirdly, there's the state of mind after the fact and how we're to handle that internally.

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My best advice when you find yourself in a similar situation is to thank God for that part of your sexual self that's on point (no pun intended).  And in line with that, savor the feelings as well as the physiological response (erection).  From there, you do nothing.  Days will pass and these feelings will diminish naturally.  

Lastly, never, ever take it upon yourself to fixate on infatuation as if you're somehow able to read people with such expertise that you're then qualified to reciprocate accordingly (or worse, under some form of perverted obligation).  Please know that if it's impossible for you to turn away appropriately, seek out a Samson brother for support.

Samson Society, your workplace, church as well as numerous other settings - DO NOT EQUATE to a club / bar.  As such, you are expected to fall in line with the respective norms (particularly as a Christian man) towards yourself firstly and then to everyone else.

That being said, I'm a human and so are you.  Circumstantial sexual attraction is God breathed and such the gift of being an image bearer.  And as we all know, it can occur in some very unexpected settings / circumstances as we navigate through this life one day at a time.

Lagniappe

Decent Jocks Choose Not To Invest In (Nor Advertise Towards) A Harem Of Whores

Professional athletes (male) aren't just physically superior on the playing field.  For coitus is a physical activity too.  And alongside coitus is libido for which pro athletes typically have in spades.

I remember the occasion like it was yesterday.

My family had chosen to take a new friend's (our church's then Associate Pastor) children to a "Gatti Town" pizzeria for dinner / game night (the year was 2010).  Whilst seated in the dining area, eating the restaurant's unimaginably greasy pizza, there playing on the wall television was none other than the following:

What's interesting to note is that this young man apparently loathed the fact that his own father (who'd been dead for four years when this press conference was taped) had a penchant for surrounding himself with whores.  Earl Woods was very close to his son.  So close, I believe, that he was his son's golf coach for much of his life.  The harem of whores his father entertained were part of their traveling road show as Tiger played professional golf around the globe.  

Strangely, like father, like son.

But the most shocking pro athlete sex disclosure (that I've heard) was this one:

Damn.  That's disgusting.  Talk about vagina masturbation...

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Earlier this evening, I screened 20-30 minutes of this video:

What struck me is how decent Ms. Swift's pro athlete boyfriend is.  You can tell that he's made a decision to invest in knowing this very different human being really, really well despite their likes / dislikes / vocations / backgrounds.  Another observation:  Ms. Swift is no Amazon.  Instead, she's no doubt a normal-scaled adult female (all around).  As such, in contrast to her beau, you have to wonder how she's overcome the physical disproportion between her and her boyfriend.  And speaking of her boyfriend...

He recently had a high profile photo shoot that exemplifies the fact that physically, he's in his prime.  

If you know anything about the girl he's romantically attached to, she's introspective, extremely creative and the epitome of salt of the earth.  

Yet, he's a physical powerhouse.  Competitive, aggressive, forceful, masculine, jock, meathead, etc.

So, let's get down to the nitty gritty.

-------------------------

If Ms. Swift's pro athlete boyfriend is to continue forward with this relational investment towards her (to the degree that he's sincerely displayed here), he's going to have to continue to wrangle his pro athlete size sex drive / high voltage allure 'till death do us part.  

How is that possible?

I think first & foremost, he's got to choose to be satisfied in her holistically versus exclusively as a bed partner.  

Ms. Swift has been very creatively public about her romantic history with men (her melodic compositions attest to this).  In doing so, she's made it very clear that experiencing further (romantic) relational hurt is in no way a priority.  As such, I have no doubt that her pro athlete beau has long since been privy to this (although I doubt he'd listened to much of her music prior to their first date). 

Too, she's no longer a spring chicken.  In other words, her eggs ain't getting any younger which is causing her biological clock to tick that much louder.  Therefore, being upfront about her expectations / coupled with an intentionally slow descent into romance had to have been a huge priority for her.  This is always a wise move, and she's obviously a wise (for her age) woman.

Of course, it's easy to see that he's just a big goofball.  Fun-loving and kind.  But that doesn't change the fact that he's a physical powerhouse.  Competitive, aggressive, forceful, masculine, jock, meathead, etc.

-------------------------

So, in conclusion, if they've had intercourse / any other form of sexual intimacy (& hopefully they haven't since they're unmarried) when did it occur and how often has it happened?

I'd speculate just recently and very, very little overall.  

Why?

Sexual intimacy for nuanced women like Ms. Swift equates to an interweaving of deep seated emotions between her and her bedmate.  As such, this is where the "rubber meets the road" so to speak relationally.  Therefore, if the future holds a breakup, that decoupling will be exponentially more painful as a result of this emotionally validated genital connection.

(This is one obvious reason why the marriage bed is the VERY BEST place for sexual intimacy.)

All this being said, what about Ms. Swift's pro athlete beau's pro athlete-size libido / body / attention-seeking ambition?  What's to be done with  that?

This is what worries me.  Especially considering the recent, high profile photo shoot.  

Like so many pro athletes, Ms. Swift's beau undoubtedly feeds off of attention.  And very recently, he's not been shy about appearing sexy and available in order to obtain it.  

If he were my potential future son-in-law, I'd be asking, "What the hell were you thinking when you chose to allow those photos to be published?  Within almost all of them, you look like a half naked oaf."

What's The Secret To Long-Term Involvement Within Samson Society?

There're two parts to properly answering this question.

1.  You must have a strong backbone.  Specifically, you're going to encounter all manner of men.  With stories & personalities that run the gamut.  Over time, you're going to suspect that some of these men aren't part of this community in regard to their recovery.  And it's those that, once you realize this, can truly wear you down / get on your last nerve.  Some of them wear a "recovery persona" (during meetings, in particular) that they use to qualify their presence because they're conscientious to their true intentions (otherwise they'd be mentally ill). 

Samson Society is free / open to the public, therefore all manner of men gravitates to it (in line with their specific "interpersonal crisis" / needs).  Considering the virtual meetings, it's even more of a free for all.  And, I would argue, that much more "socially fluid".  In other words, it's very easy to disguise oneself when you only truly exist within a thumbnail window / within a private chat network like Slack.

As such, keep in mind, this ain't no private, members-only Country Club.  & it absolutely shouldn't be.  This is one of the primary reasons I've invested of myself herein for as long as I have.  

A quick tale:  My wife and I are Presbyterian.  There're numerous reasons for that, but one minute one is Presbyterians tend to not be crazy-ass or dumbasses (low intelligence).  Earlier this year, a crazy couple showed up to our church (there're A LOT of crazy-ass / dumbass people in MS) and immediately began annoying the heck (accosting) out of anyone they were successful in making eye contact with.  Eventually, they drifted away from the church as more and more Presbyterians would bolt whilst seeing them coming their way.  

Samson Society has its proportional share (miniscule minority) of these folks.  And it should.  It's not a church (& certainly not a Presbyterian one).  As such, you must learn to filter through these encounters whilst keeping a high-altitude / overarching perspective.  In kind, you're going to need to brush past the tangential skirmishes that these men tend to provoke within the community itself (whilst absolutely refusing to get involved / passing judgement).

Another hint that works wonders for me:

Focus, focus, focus on the motive behind why you're truly here.  And this leads me to point #2.

2.  You must be a men's minister at heart.  Firstly, for yourself and then for others.  So, what does it mean to be a men's minister?  

You must have a specific curiosity towards men that drives you forward.  All manner of men (including the crazies).  Young, middle-aged, old.  Every demographic, race / creed and sexual orientation.  As such, this curiosity will provide a never-ending drive towards discovering / engaging with men as Jesus exemplified within the gospels and as scripture alludes to as a whole.  

And you do this firstly FOR YOURSELF and your own recovery.  Not to make lifelong friends or to pad your resume.  

Men's ministers feed off other men, and in turn, they're shored up / buttressed in kind.  How?  

I find that first & foremost, it happens by forcing me out of my own head.  Thereby, by marinating on other needs / stories, I can best manage my own (forced perspective).  

Is there anyone on planet Earth who's more "upstairs" than Rob?  I doubt it.  Blame it on me being an only child, I suppose.  Each & every time, via my intentionality, Samson Society provides the opportunity for me to step out of the attic and into the sunlight.

In closing, Jesus made a point to tolerate the Judases and Peters, "sons of thunder" and so forth.  And he did this without driving wedges / tipping his hand as to what his true feelings were for any and all individuals within that motley crue.  Sure, he had his favorites, but those feelings were likely mutual.  

In the end, he loved these men as the ultimate men's minister!  Therefore, it's his example that we should follow as we continued forward along The Path.

Stay committed men.  Samson Society needs your tenure.

Choosing To Not Be Bitter / Jaded In Spite Of Being Read (& Tremendously Scarred By) The Riot Act

I had the privilege to delve into volunteer work in my early 30s (20+ years ago).  This volunteer leadership position that I was appointed to was far more demanding / intimidating than I ever could have imagined it would be, and much of that challenge centered around the individuals I was tasked to serve alongside (we were all appointed simultaneously / I knew none of these older men).

About three years into my volunteered position tenure, tension between myself and another volunteer had reached a fever pitch.  As such, that tension reached its inevitable conclusion whilst having to confront him regarding some questionable funds' (organizational) usage.  And that's when I was read the riot act (thankfully I wasn't alone with this colleague when this lambasting occurred).  And when I say I was read the riot act, I'm talking expertly / with zero restraint.  I remember feeling afterwards as if I'd been fire hosed down with gasoline prior to my colleague lighting a match.  

There's a current phrase for this:  scorched earth.  As such, any semblance of remaining relationship was completely burned up after this 10–15-minute deluge of spite.

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A few years back, I surprisingly encountered my former volunteer colleague.  We eventually spoke politely (as subsequent encounters occurred), and I was hopeful for some sort of potential reconciliation.  Choosing to not be jaded / bitter was the best position to take. 

Unfortunately, today, I'm again having to face down this same man due to me, once again, stepping up to volunteer (identical organization).  He's already made it very clear that the calendared rendezvous itself is a huge waste of his time / energy.  

Thankfully, once again, I won't be alone during this juncture.

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What's clear to me as I head into this is the following:  This man is allergic to Rob and likely always will be.  And there's nothing I can do about that.

Therefore, I must minimize as much as possible during this meeting.  How?

I'm so grateful to be serving today alongside some excellent co-volunteers who're supportive and not at all naive / easily swayed (they've each been around the block).  Ultimately, my plan is less of Rob and more of them.

But my secret weapon is to remain hopeful about this situation.  And it is a situation.  I truly know nothing about the inner workings of this man and do not pretend to.  That being said, I'm older / wiser.  And though scars remain, my dignity is intact.  And that's what's most important to me.  

Some relationships barrel towards ending badly.  Very, very badly.  Nonetheless, as a Christian, in particular, be mindful of the approach you choose to take therein.  You have a witness to first & foremost protect.    

Female Fun & Subsequently, Overexposure = Heightened Feminine Perception

1.  During the middle of April, my experience serving as a board member of a local nonprofit began to wane / languish inside.  The nonprofit's local mission was, in concept, exactly what I believed in (& had throughout my four-years of service), but the female Executive Director wasn't leading the org in line with any direction whatsoever from the 10-member Board.  Hence, we essentially were her minions / yes-men / women.  It was apparent throughout that everyone was perfectly fine with this hierarchy, and I was as well.  Until I wasn't. 

If you know anything about nonprofits, this is a backassward approach.  

But this female would have no part in being swayed from her reigning perch.  It was her way or the highway.  I blithely chose the highway a few weeks back by resigning from the board.

Doing this made me feel empowered but also very sad for I really will miss supporting the mission of that local org.  Yet, I won't miss this female.  She represented for me, a concentrated dose, with zero listening skills.

  

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2.  My middle daughter returned from studying abroad in Europe (Spring collegiate semester) last weekend.  Ever since last fall, her plan therein was to waylay for a few weeks prior to departing for her "next big thing" (Summer '25 away from home).  Not long after her arrival home, she approached me with the notion of cancelling her Summer '25 "next big thing" plans entirely, instead hoping to reside at home with her fam for the entirety of May, June & July.

Keep in mind that her "next big thing" Summer '25 away-from-home plan was duplicitous of what she did Summer '24 (which she enjoyed / benefited from greatly).

Multiple evenings were spent hashing out her desires / motives 'till I felt comfortable blessing her sentiency / maturity enough to position her standalone decision as fair / equitable.  

I felt deeply indebted to my wife for allowing me to assist our daughter in navigating this ultimate decision.  

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3.  My mother relishes the opportunity to host meals at my parents' home.  As such, every holiday / special event, it's her show (& has been for the past almost 30 years to the chagrin of my sweet wife).

A dinner birthday / homecoming (aforementioned study abroad grand/daughter) party was calendared (yet again, at her abode) a few weeks back for this past Friday night.  The birthday girl was to be my 93-year-old grandmother.

As an aside, last fall, mom insisted on providing me with specifics on how her brother (my grandmother's primary caregiver) physically assaulted / threatened to kill her.  She did this during our annual Thanksgiving meal (once again, at her home) while she and I were talking somewhat privately, and this disturbing commentary continued forward intermittently 'till I put my foot down.  As you might imagine, I was livid (not only regarding what I was hearing but taking into account too the setting I was hearing of it within).

I have no siblings; therefore, I can't pretend to comprehend on any level how those relationships work.  Nonetheless, I do know that every sibling relationship is unique and that the parents play a sizable modeling role therein as it pertains to the dynamic.  I also know that females long for peace and by default, sweep an awful lot under the rug, for better or for worse, yet too desire to be heard, heard, heard.  

But one thing you must know about my mother is this:  she's my uncle's puppet and always has been.  In fact, his own mother ('till she lost her ability to care for herself) was too.  Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.

In essence, my uncle is a highly intelligent, articulate manipulator who's all around intimidating to boot.  

Therefore, once I caught wind of my uncle's invitation to my grandmother's birthday party, I verbosely rescinded (last minute) me and my family's RSVP.  

Verbosely:  the use of too many words

Know this:  this wasn't profanity.  I simply solidly drove home my point.

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On the opposing side of this gender fun, I've been actively working towards obtaining proposals pertaining to some needed plumbing work at our small, 25-year-old abode.  Having met with 1, 2, 3 plumbing company reps (males) over the past week and a half, I was reminded of how distinctly different men and women communicate / engage.  

Nonetheless, I believe because I've been having so much female fun over the past few weeks, I've been hyper-observant / available emotionally - gender be damned!  And this vulnerableness has ratcheted up in proportion to my female fun milestones.  

And that's made this relatively simple task that much more exhausting (but holistically a bit fun as well).  

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In closing, I'm just tired out.  Lots of folks, women and otherwise have needed, expected, introduced themselves.  Each with their own position, stance, temperature, outlook.  As such, I'm reminded, no, been demanded to listen, react, observe intentionally.  For they're so very different than men.  Complex beyond belief.  And that complexity can enliven us to be far better and more capable than we ever would be otherwise.