Curiosity Guardrails

As a 52-year-old, I have and continue to be a very curious person.  And this curiosity primarily is seated towards men / boys / males.  Whether it's interpersonal, business, church, if males are involved therein, I'm curious as to who these dudes are specifically / what motivates them to be involved / their backstory, etc.  In other words, if I had been Steve Trevor, landing on Themyscira by accident, I would likely have quickly died from boredom.  Why?  To Rob, women, in particular, are incredibly boring / uninteresting handiworks of the Creator God.  And no, that statement doesn't automatically make me a misogynist.  For I love my wife and my daughters with my whole heart.  

As such, women / girls / females are of distinct value, but overall, I MUCH PREFER being opportunistic regarding rubbing shoulders with men / boys / males. & for the most part, this curiosity is rooted in my own gender combined with my distinct inability to see myself (good, bad or ugly) therein.  Combine those two together and you have an endless supply of motivation to be man / boy / male curious / associative.

A distinct benefit of my men / boy / male curiosity / fascination is it has allowed me to clinically analyze the cultural choice that so many men have made as it pertains to their homosexual desires, and the keyword there is clinically.  And I've been doing this from early on within my life as I crossed paths with in-person men prior to also overlaying that MO with those who present themselves online.  Earlier this week, I delved into a podcast that's hook is interviewing hyper-masculine gay porn stars.  And it was fascinating.  To have that granular opportunity here in 2025 is amazing.  For it allows me to see / understand / confirm my choices by analyzing - up close & personal - theirs.  All the while satiating my curiosity appetite (in ways that do not involve gay porn).  

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

And that serves as a lovely segue into the ease of access of gay porn and why that's such an issue for me.

Covenant Eyes is my lifesaver.  It puts guardrails on my insatiable curiosity yet not so much that I feel like I'm being treated as if I'm a child.  

I have one Ally who monitors the CE reporting and WILL reach out if he sees activity (he receives my report on Monday) therein that seems abnormal.

This man is local, and we've known each other for many years (originating within in-person Samson Society).  I respect this man enough to know how his presence as my Ally influences my behavior online.

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

What's unusual is how effective this is overall.  Now, there have been rare occasions (tail end of last year) where I've been lackadaisical, and this has resulted in me delving into gay porn consumption no holds barred (for a week or two).  But this approach / attitude isn't the norm.  

Nonetheless, if throwing caution to the wind does rear its head more than usual, I may very well turn on filtering within the CE sentinel software as a means to an end.  Thankfully, at this point, I've never had to do that.

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

And yes, there are times when CE "craps out" and needs reinstallation.  All software has this trait, and mostly it's due to CE not being able to readily keep up with OS updates - rung to rung.  

In closing, CE is a huge partner of Samson Society.  I love this especially about their company. Countless men hear about Samson Society via their engagement with Covenant Eyes. 

All this being said, I just purchased a CE lifetime membership and am proud for it.

Thank you, Covenant Eyes for orchestrating my online behavior for the better.

MERRY CHRISTMAS 2024!

 MERRY CHRISTMAS 2024!

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

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

Have you ever thought of intercourse as calisthenics?  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, is that true?  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Therefore...

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

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

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

Therefore, what can be done?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My heart hurts for these men.  

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

Captivated By Masculinity (+ Baritone Voices)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is this important to identify?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will God Resurrect BoyRob? (Especially Considering That Blazen Rebuke By My Own Hands.)

I often have vivid dreams.  Recently, one of those featured my toy poodle, a childhood dog that my parents purchased for me when I was in 6th grade.

I wish I could say I was a loving, caring dog owner, but I was not.  This animal served more like a physical stand-in for the part of me that simply wanted to be loved (too much?).  And as such, due to my disgust with myself, I absolutely didn't fulfill that wish.  

Nonetheless, the dog lived a 15+ year life, existing well into my young adulthood (thanks to my 'rents caring for him while I was away at college).  

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

When I lost my campus architect job at DSU (September of '13), I beat my boyRob self to a pulp, blaming him for not having the chutzpah needed to simply sit quietly and behave.  Instead, he was deliberate about attempting to come up for proverbial air, often late into the evening or after hours behind the closed door of my front office.  Ultimately, this resulted in the institution having grounds to fire me.  Hence, in my mind, 1+1 = 2.  Therefore, if I could remove that second "1", there'd be no more risk involved, leaving me (1+0 = 1) completely in control.

So that's what I did.  At the expense of my whole self.

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

I immediately knew this boyRob had either fled or was dead when I walked into a movie theater during the summer of '14.  It had been just +/-8 months since my termination.  The film was an animated family feature that was screening (with the family) at a discount (summer family film fest).  

I sobbed throughout the 90-minutes.  And not because of the content / uplifting nature of the film.  No.  I sobbed because it became immediately apparent to me that a part of me was completely missing from that experience.  That part that usually sprang to life whilst entering into a movie theater (he relishes the experience).  Therefore, there was no enjoyment therein.  Instead, it felt as if I was simply wasting my time sitting in a large room with strangers.

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

Many moons have passed since that summer afternoon.  

And I'm convinced God will restore this "1".  Perhaps soon I'll see more vestiges of my toy poodle. 

Shortened leash

 

I've written that Covenant Eyes is no longer working on my pocket computer, and that my pocket computer has a screen that's larger and more vibrant than anything I've ever had prior (I "inherited" it from my oldest daughter earlier this year as a result of her purchasing her own, more up-to-date pocket computer).  

For years, I've kept my pocket computer on my bedside table whilst sleeping.  Hence, I was prone to browse the www late into the night and also whilst having short bouts of insomnia during the early morning.  

I'm a reader and curious to boot.  As a boy, whilst spending time at my grandparents' house in rural Humphreys County, I'd bide my time by devouring the 1970 edition of the World Book encyclopedia.  I vividly remember arbitrarily picking a volume (they were published by letter of the alphabet) prior to reading my heart out (for hours on end).  They also had some National Geographic tomes that featured subjects such as the oceans / deserts.  I loved perusing those too.  Especially for the fantastic photography.  

Today, msn.com and drudgereport.com are wonderful jumping off points for Rob, but sans Covenant Eyes (pocket computer only), there's also porn tube sites, porn blogs, porn, porn and more porn.

Consuming porn is cathartic.  Mindless.  Trance-inducing.  There's nothing to learn.  It's an alternate reality sort of experience that's a huge time waster.  

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

Entertainment venues for Rob, particularly those involving video viewing, are restricted / nonexistent.  No streaming services, no CATV or Dish Network.  I do have a small collection of DVDs, but that's it.

And I'm okay with that.  I'd rather spend time using my eyeballs for something else.  

Nonetheless, the bedside pocket computer has been a guilty pleasure for too long.  Not anymore.  That all changed this week, and so far, I'm loving it.  

Identify / Identity Through Observational Contrasts. Embracing / Celebrating God-Given Opportunities For Discernment Regarding Who You Truly Are.

There were so many positive attributes to working for the state of MS ('06-'12) as a Staff Architect, but one of my favorites was the opportunity to befriend / work with architects / engineers, that I'd never met prior, from all over the Magnolia State.  And I'll say it again:  All architects are very unique (before getting into specifics).

One local (Jackson Metro) architect I worked alongside on many a bond-monies funded project was +/-15 years my senior.  This elder statesmanish, laid-back sole proprietor worked from home and had recently passed the finish line pertaining to rearing his two (then young adult) children (they were more or less up and out).

This man was a closed book personally.  In other words, all business all the time.  As such, we talked a whole lotta shop.  But, because of my influential position (owner's representative), he couldn't comfortably shun my interpersonal inquisitiveness.

Therefore, I'd make calculated moves in order to query him regarding his faith, career path, upbringing.  And eventually, he even warmed up to me enough to make some (religious) book recommendations (he was one of the first Reformed Christians I've ever had the privilege to meet - in person).

And I'm so glad I took these platonic risks.  For this was one unique dude.  And so, so very sharp.

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

One of the most interesting aspects of his story had to do with his own unique relationship with his faith / the "outside world".

I vividly recall him admitting to walking into a professional partnership eyes closed (very early on in his career), only to soon realize his untimely vocational mistake.  Nevertheless, he'd no easy way to walk back from this now mixed-morality marriage (his words), therefore he stayed put (in South MS, no less) 'till a clear exit path presented itself.  

His children were small during this season, and his wife, the ever-subservient homemaker.  Hence, he no doubt was in that 360-degrees-of-pressure-cooker stage of adulthood.  

All-in-all, I quickly got the sense that they'd chosen to readily own the part of the dutifully suffering, faithfully clandestine pariahs, ever determined to survive this ordeal resolute.    

As you probably already guessed, this architect was deeply religious, and prior to him packing up his young clan and moving to Hattiesburg for this shareholder role, they'd been faithful churchgoers (I'm willing to bet a dollar he was likely a young deacon / elder) within the Jackson Metro. 

Now here's where his story truly becomes insightful as to his identity.

Instead of this young family becoming a member of a local "Hub City" church (immediately following their move), they chose instead to super commute to the Jackson Metro very early each subsequent Sunday morning in order to attend (their) church - as they'd done prior to relocating.  From there, post morning church services, the children would nap on the church pews (after eating a packed lunch) in order to be "fully refreshed" for the evening church service / activities.  When that had concluded, this architect would pack up his clan and return forlornly to Hattiesburg (90 minutes by car).  

And this went on for years.

I can remember how earnest he was as he revealed this to me, and it was obvious he had no regrets therein.  I was left speechless.

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

Covenant Eyes has been a lifesaver for Rob.  It's been my digital training pants for a decade now.  

When I consume gay porn, I gravitate to a laptop / desktop PC (I don't have access to a tablet PC).  On the other hand (thankfully), my pocket computer, due to its small scale, simply isn't equivalent.

Covenant Eyes, as a smartphone app, was very recently replaced by their "Victory" app, yet I haven't downloaded this successor program.

Why?

Because of what I admitted to earlier.  My pocket computer is moreso an email management, Slack, weather app, telephone, text messaging device.

And I knew this day was coming.  For as of yesterday, (9/28) my smartphone is unmonitored by CE due to this software phase out / upgrade.

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

I'm very fortunate to be able to say that in spite of the countless hours of consuming gay porn, I've never had the urge to imitate / engage in what I was seeing.  Hence, Angie (my wife) is the only individual I've been sexual with.  Ever.  

And even today, with Angie's disabled, broken body as my helpmeet, I still consider the notion of engaging sexually with another man as not of interest in the least.  Conversely, my love for my physically broken wife continues to deepen.  

What this tells me is the following (& I clearly heard this commentary last night post consuming gay porn on my now "unlocked" pocket computer):  There's a huge difference in consuming porn and engaging in homosexual practices.  To be a bit more granular, if I were to encounter the gay porn models who're engaging with each other sexually, I have no doubt that I'd back away heavy hearted.  Not because of me finding myself between a rock and a hard place (sexual identity vs faith in Christ), but due to the abject brokenness / dead end that's there on full display.

Can I daresay that Jesus has clearly reminded (tempered?) me, as of late, that my appetite isn't for homosex between me and some hot guy(s).  Not at all.  And this truth has been amplified / concretized via my - now (thankfully) quite sporadic - consumption of gay porn.  

And not because I've "had my fill" (believe me, I'll never have my fill of gay porn).  No.  Instead, it's due to the very explicit www education I've been given.  One that's allowed me to come to grips with / rigorously adjudicate a practice that's now wholly celebrated / normalized throughout the entire western world.

Can I say wholeheartedly - Thanks be to God for my exposure to / struggle with gay porn?!?  Not only in line with growing my faith but with growing my understanding of myself?

I'm ruminating on these interrogative sentences even as I type this.

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

When our two oldest daughters were preschool / toddlers, Angie and I warmed up to the notion of homeschooling.  Especially considering how smart my wife is / her love for our children.  And we jumped headfirst into this even though we had access to great traditional school choices (both public and private) near our home.

As such, when our oldest daughter aged into kindergarten, Angie homeschooled her.  And it went superbly.

But when we attended the homeschool co-op kindergarten graduation ceremony with our 6-year-old in tow, I was immediately struck by the air of entitlement / tremendous lack of diversity (keep in mind this was 2009).  Therefore, by the end of the ceremony, I was equal parts nauseated and livid.  For it simply felt way too much like a white bread Christian fringe group. 

As we were walking across the parking lot upon exiting the church annex, I made it very clear that there'd be no further homeschooling going forward.  From there, I asked Angie to reach out to our assigned public elementary school in order to schedule an audience with the principal (regarding 1st grade).  She did so begrudgingly, but man oh man, God used that meeting to clearly demarcate the educational path forward for our girls. 

Homeschooling, upon our research, looked so appealing.  Noble even.  But once we engaged, we quickly realized the mistake we'd made (for our particular family / identity).

(BTW, if I remember correctly, the aforementioned elder statesmen architect homeschooled their children.)

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

I've taken Safari and banished it from my lower level "convenient apps" zone on my pocket computer.  My hope for this week is to simply not browse - at all - on that Internet capable device.  

Can I not piss in the bed sans training pants?  We'll see. 

Here's hoping I can hang tightly to my true identity whilst being tempted.  

I'm not sure what takes longer - finding / accepting one's true identity or recovery in general.  Molasses flow.

I Don't Want To Be Like You / "Can I Truly Respect This Guy?"

Dreaming about my past work as an architect (intern & eventually licensed pro) between '96 and '06 (private sector job) happens often.  And these dreams are so vivid that whilst waking up, I'm so very relieved to no longer bear the burdens I once did (though I really do enjoy the heady emotions brought on by the fantastical revisit).

At that time ('96-'06), I was (almost) fresh out of college, and having never met an architect that I truly wished to emulate / look up to (high school / college experience or otherwise), I gravitated towards the man who hired me for such a time as that.   

He was a decade my senior, though due to our collective youth, still quite young (especially to be a partner within a firm).  

We hit it off immediately, and working under him was a joy.  Not to mention the projects he assigned me to design were challenging and fulfilling to work on.

Eventually though, I grew frustrated with my boss.  Especially as it pertained to who he'd chosen to align himself with (pro relations / spouse).  This mounting bad taste in my mouth only soured further as I couldn't help but observe his personal modus operandi closely (due to proximity).

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

My best friend from college also worked at this firm.  In fact, he'd been there just one month prior to Rob coming onboard.  This man was a weird one (what architect isn't?) but overall, no weirder than the colleagues he was now sharing an (branch) office with (I worked in the much larger, main office).  Nonetheless, the original branch office clan of three (two minions and one partner who were there prior to my best friend and I being hired) refused to give much of any respect to my friend.  In essence, he was being singled out and mistreated.

As a result, my friend threw in the towel, doing so once he reached a point of no return.  This occurred around '00 (both of us hadn't been licensed as architects too long).

I remember going to my aforementioned architect boss, there in our main office, on behalf of my friend's situational plight (well in advance of his sudden resignation), only to receive a very glib response.  This infuriated me.  For I knew my friend well enough to know that he'd not be able to continue within such a toxic work environment for much longer.   

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

I spent many a shared meal with my best friend from college (primarily during our time together in architecture school).  He was also the best man in my wedding (much to my father's chagrin).  During our fourth year at MSU, we'd also lived together amiably in Evans Hall.  As a result of all this, our mutual respect for each other was unwavering.

My friend had been reared in a complicated home, and his adolescent years had been especially tough, but man, he was a hard worker with a very sharp mind.   

On the other hand, he was weird.  Now, if you were to engage with him today (25 years into the future), almost every facet of that weirdness is no more.  But back then, it was a defining attribute, resonating clearly in regard to how he carried himself. 

Honestly, at first, I pitied him.  That was the initial centerpiece of why I served him as a friend.  And when you choose to ever support someone you truly pity (even if for a season), via a longstanding relationship, it's hard to resist defending them reflexively.

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

I feel compelled to remind you that I'm a same-sex attracted man, therefore there's a really good chance that you're not in the same boat that I am.  Hence, this likely won't be, going forward, commentary you can relate to.

When I warm up to (platonic) hetero men, I put that much more emphasis on the following question:  "Can I TRULY respect this guy?"

Why?

I'm convinced it's a result of mirroring.  

In other words, I MUST FEEL CONFIDENT IN POTENTIALLY RECEIVING what I'm setting myself up to divvy out in kind.  And for so many men, especially when they get to know Rob, this is not easy to deliver on.  Nonetheless, when it does occur, I have absolutely no issue following suit.

Also, especially when I was a younger man, I was absolutely convinced that obtaining a mentor, who by definition would follow suit with this reciprocal respect, was of paramount importance / significance.

In closing, there're only two men who I can call friend today who've equally (cross pollination) respected Rob, and one of these is my oldest, aforementioned (college) friend.  And yes, I'm pleased to say that he's still architecting (public realm).

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

The takeaway:  Because of my boss' refusal to advocate on behalf of my friend, there at his architecture firm, I subconsciously began to emotionally decouple from the profession as a whole.  For as I stated earlier, he had represented, in the flesh, what I might achieve as my end goal.  

Because this internal decoupling was happening of its own accord, when I resigned from his architecture firm in '06, I felt a myriad of disregulated (very confused) emotions.  Hence, during my "private sector retirement reception" (I had chosen to move into the public sector immediately following), I was speechless throughout the event.  This was beyond awkward for everyone in attendance.       

Lastly, I believe these as of late monthly dreamscapes of architecting past are my mind's attempt to make sense ofl that dysregulation.  For I'd put a tremendous amount of hope (& pressure) in the professional relationship I had with that mentor architect.  In essence, I wanted him to demonstrate what I was very, very compelled to instinctively reciprocate.  When that didn't pan out, I became tremendously conflicted internally in light of what he'd come to represent.  So many years of disillusionment followed.  Disillusionment that I had to fight hard against constantly.  Also, I see now that my chronic consumption of Internet porn at work was exacerbated via this disillusionment.

His choice to not advocate on behalf of my closest friend slowly set in motion a new vocational path forward for Rob.  A path that had nothing to do with the ideal he represented.  

That's a sobering reality.

What Is It About Fall 2024?

I don't have a favorite season, and I believe that's because I'm from Mississippi (where Fall & Spring are miniscule).  Plus, winter here is so very mild (free air conditioning!).  Therefore, for Rob, it all just blends together month to month to month.  

But fall of 2024 is different.  Something about it...

I know I'm anticipating the Samson Summit, and primarily because of its location. 

Every "National Retreat" (as they were originally dubbed) has always been in middle TN at a pretty low rent Methodist Retreat Center.  (Last year's really doesn't count.  The venue was such an overstep due to its scale / posh.)

As such, I'm anticipating a fresh place (East Coast) and a very fresh, appropriately scaled locale.  Why?

It should bring in some fresh Samson blood.  I get so worn out seeing the same guys frequent these events (& believe me, I'm sure they feel the same about Rob).  Fresh Samson blood means opportunity for fresh relationships.

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

I'm part of a volunteer board (& have been for 3-4 years now) that supports the area of the Jackson Metro that we live in.  At the beginning of 2025, my plan is to resign my post.  There're two remaining events that we're hosting this fall (both of which I'm looking forward to), and then from there, I'll be hanging up my hat.  

It took two decades for me to find out about this troupe (that supports our area), and I'm so glad I did, but all in all, I'm ready to retire.  Our meetings have grown tedious, and the volunteer work repetitive.  Nonetheless, it's been a fantastic experience for me overall.  Giving back locally is a gift in and of itself.

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

This forthcoming holiday SHOULD BE the last one with all three daughters home here within our 1,550 sf abode.  

Living with four arguably ADULT women - full-time - quickly wears me down.  Especially when there's no rhyme nor reason as to their schedules (they make fun of dad / husband for not being able to expertly keep up with who's slated to do what with whom and when each & every day).  

My oldest is a senior in college.  She's very much ready to fly the coop.  Yay!  Knowing this will be her last hurrah here at our "garden home", puts a huge smile on my face.  I'm so proud of her, and I see so much of myself therein.  As such, I want to cherish this final Xmas together before saying sayonara.

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

& finally, I'm a closet gardener.  As such, I have a plant that blooms on overdrive throughout October (up to the first frost).  It's a perennial, and it's about a 1/3 of the size of a full-size pickup truck (though a head or two taller).  

For some reason, this plant is a rarity in these parts yet considered an "Old Southern" plant.  I was encouraged to purchase it (county extension plant sale) +/-15 years ago prior to planting the 1/2-gallon pot adjacent to our driveway (in a small, newly prepped flower bed), and now, here we are.  It's my King Kong plant.  

The blooms are the size of softballs and interestingly enough, they open as cotton white before turning pink then crimson red over the course of the next 48 hours.  From there, the outlandish blooms die quickly and drop to the ground.  Because there're so many, the base around this native Asian plant becomes littered with slippery nastiness (think falling figs off a fig tree).

Countless people stop me when I'm outside piddling to inquire about this Confederate Rose plant.  Experiencing its show firsthand is such a blessed way to usher end the final stretch of each calendar year.  Considering the apocalyptic heat / dryness of Q3 / Q4 '23, there's all the more reason to botanically celebrate what's right around the corner. 

Do You Dabble In Internet Porn Consumption? If So, Why?

I know I dabble out of habit.  It's like opening the refrigerator door and staring blankly inside for 10-15 minutes.  I do reach inside to pick up CERTAIN items, examining those thoroughly prior to returning them to a shelf.  But I never open these, and certainly don't eat / drink from said containers.  Instead, I simply close the door and walk away once I feel thoroughly bored with myself.

The problem could be rectified immediately if there were a lock on the refrigerator.  For it isn't my appliance.  It belongs to someone else.  I just happen to have access to it during certain windows of time.  But if the owner were to catch me glaring into their durable good, it would be mighty embarrassing.  

Why?

I have a refrigerator of my own.  The difference though is my refrigerator's contents aren't a free-for-all as the aforementioned one is.

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

This is me being a rebel.  And I realize it may sound minute to you, but to me, it suffices.  

I don't drink or smoke.  I'm an avid exerciser.  I watch what I eat, and I don't watch TV (nor do I play video games).  My family tithes and gives regularly to a number of causes (including Samson Society).  

It's a mundane existence, therefore why can't I "live a little" (remember, I'm NOT EVEN SNACKING ON ANYTHING I TAKE OUT OF THE FRIG)?  

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

So how do I put a stop to this?

I crawled out of bed this morning (very early) and prayed earnestly for help.  We'll see...

Recommended Reading / Rob's Cycle of Porn

The Cycle of Pornography | Evidence Unseen

My first encounter with porn (late elementary school) occurred at my uncle's apartment.  I was around 4-5th grade, and it was my cousin (my uncle's son - an only child like me) who exposed me to his father's Penthouse magazines. Even then, it was the male models that I was drawn to the most.  Nonetheless, I was so curious as to what sex / sensuality was.  These soft-lensed, exquisitely photographed pictorials fueled my desire to learn more.  I remember masturbating in the hall bathroom after my cousin and I had "had our fill".  I loved the powerful arousal that occurred via these photos (tied to the clandestine investigation) which in turn made the climaxes that much moreso unbelievable.  

Looking back, I had no idea what was truly going on due to being brought up in such a vacuum-of-sexual-information-household.  Nonetheless, what I did know was I too (as a human being) was "wired for sex", therefore it felt imperative that I take these opportunities to learn / feel as much as possible in this regard.

In a nutshell, this was simply prepubescent curiosity mixed with availability of explicit sexual material.  Did it lay groundwork for being captivated (in bondage) outright down the road?  I don't believe so.  That all grew out of the shame / loneliness I was experiencing as a targeted middle school faggot / loner.

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

7th and 8th grade were tremendously difficult for Rob.  I was miserable and as a result, had to lay low at school.  I began fantasizing regularly about being pursued by older men (sexual relationships), and the most shame-filled fantasies of them all involved my youth pastor.  There was no precedent for this.  I'd not been molested outright, though in so many ways, the abject void of masculine affirmation qualified in and of itself.  

Young men must have the masculine affirming they deserve to develop into healthy men.

I had no older (or younger) brothers.  There wasn't a dad (Robert, Sr.) that had any semblance as to what healthy, customized masculine affirming looked like (much less a desire to participate therein).  I loathed team sports and scouting.  All of this added up to me literally being on my own.

In light of this, I stuck to comic books and music, eventually joining the poor excuse of a marching band (clarinet & later drum major) that was available to me at Madison-Ridgeland Academy.  Our entourage was a sad joke, but thanks be to God, there was some semblance of a loser community for me to fall back on.  

As my secondary education marched forward, I couldn't help but observe select other young men become hardened, successful athletes.  As such, I took the step of including them within my sexual fantasies.  This made things more personal and far more lowbrow within my mind (considering their relational closeness to me).  

As such, these homosexual fantasies became my go-to daily elixir for how inept I felt as Rob.  Rinse & repeat.  Rinse & repeat.

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

During high school, I had no problem making friendgirls, and many, if not most, were interested in pursuing a romantic relationship.  But, at this point, I was now using salacious print material to homofantasize (in the form of wall calendars, greeting cards, men's exercise mags).  All of this material, I consistently looked to catalog privately as I became more and more captivated by masculine beauty.  By far, it was the most compelling visual find of my young existence (exponentially accelerated in potency relative to my ongoing private self-loathing).

Again, there was such the void of knowledge pertaining to what was out there regarding this seemingly intangible subject.  And I craved for more and more of that knowledge.  This too cannot be discounted.

If I've ever been addicted to anything, it was during this stage of my life, and my addiction was to what I perceived as masculine.

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

Strength training was key to me putting a toe in the water of masculine self-affirmation.  It was during my last year of college.  I was living with Bob & Darlene as I was completing my 5th year of architecture school (in Jackson) at Mississippi State University.  I'd asked my parents to purchase me a beginner's (youth) strength training set in high school from Service Merchandise.  It consisted of a cushion bench (w/ a bolted on leg lift attachment), one barbell and one dumbbell.  The plastic weights were sand-filled.  A tri-fold instruction booklet, printed in black-&-white accompanied this '80s novice exercise kit-of-parts.  

Four months of using this rudimentary equipment (thrice weekly) along with sit-ups and pushups - down on the cut pile carpeted floor of my bedroom worked wonders.  It truly was miraculous.

Why?  Because it consisted of personal, private affirming at its finest.  All in tandem with me myself gaining muscle mass steadily.  For once in my young man life, I felt some semblance of pride whilst seeing my reflection in the mirror.  

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

At this same time, I began dating my future wife.  Not long after our engagement, I confessed to having a serious "interest" in pornography, but the hardest part was divulging my homofantasy life (to both her and my parents) and how it had sprung out of a deep-seated loathing of my masculine self (this had not been difficult to figure out).

What was super convenient for me was how similarly crippled my future father-in-law (girlfriend's dad) was.  Hence, my fiancé had been reared by a father who was not all that much different - intrinsically - than I was.  This served (along with my commitment to therapy), I believe, as a bridge that moved us confidently towards marriage.  

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

Not long after our wedding day, the Internet came on the scene.  

Oh.  My.  Gosh.  What a nightmare that was.

It was like moving a drunk (me) into a liquor store.  And not any liquor store but one where any and all forms of liquor could be conjured up on demand.  For free.  And placed in the palm of your / my hand.

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

The adult (explicit) - content now available via the Internet should have been sequestered.  Adult (explicit) - content allowed over here / no adult (explicit) - content allowed over here.  But no one asked Rob.  

Instead, it was one big free-for-all.  Everything and anything you could imagine, readily available, so long as you had an Internet capable device / browser.  And this was how the adult content producers wanted it.  For they knew that the more (& younger) eyes they exposed to their explicit smut, the more deeply entrenched their wares would become within the viewers' psyches. This, of course, would then drive demand for more as the captivation concretized. 

Before long, so many (mostly men) were absolutely epidemically infected by this newfound ease-of-access-to digital smut.  Including me.  For it tapped into (& subsequently reanimated) my childhood coping mechanism.  A mechanism that in so many ways was no longer needed or wanted at this stage of my young adult life.

Therefore, this was its true wretchedness:  the monumentally tremendous unneeded / unwanted / unwarranted stress on me / my young marriage for such a time as this.

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

Curiosity also played a sizable role in my steady return to gay porn.  The Internet served me well in this capacity.  For there was an endless supply of new photos / videos.  All I had to do was search for "hairy muscle men" & voila!

Who knew there was so much historical smut out there for consumption!  Colt Studio Group was my instant go-to.  Especially in regard to "vintage" Colt.  Seeing gay porn from the '80s was especially profound.  For this was the decade of my youth.  How unusual it was to reckon with the fact that all of this smut was being created on the west coast throughout my adolescence in Mississippi.  Who'd a thunk?

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

I sat down with a therapist at First Baptist Church Jackson in the early '00s, spilling my story and asking for help as it pertained to my being captivated by online gay porn.

I'd known this therapist / pastor since I was a boy.  He poured his encouragement into me, and for a while, I felt immensely strengthened.  But his words weren't enough.  

What made the first distinct difference in my battle was connecting intimately with another man who pursued me for who I was outright.  

Let me repeat that.

What made the first distinct difference in my battle was connecting intimately with another man who pursued me for who I was outright.  

Who was I exactly?

1.  Christian

2.  Husband

3.  Father

4.  Same-sex attracted

5.  Intelligent

6.  Athletic

7.  Articulate

8.  Loyal

And so forth.

This man amounted to being my first Silas.  And he was perfectly suited to Rob back in 2009.  

He allowed me to healthily bask in the love of masculine affirmation.  He did so via words and touch and so much steadfastness (listening ear).

During the core 10-months of that friendship, I consumed not one iota of gay porn.  This was a monumental achievement / breakthrough for me.  I had found my antidote.

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

Fast forward to my inclusion into Samson Society in 2014.

My first (official) Silas (1.0) had so many similarities to this aforementioned, pre-Samson Society friend.  And though the pursuit was short-lived, it confirmed my suspicions.

If gay porn's grip was to be permanently loosened, I had to find men who'd affirm my individualistic masculinity.  And preferably, I needed it to occur in-person.  For their physical energy / aura was needed for me to receive the healing I so desired.

I became then a vigilante advocate for myself.  Any opportunity to receive, I gravitated towards.  So often men would believe they were simply being pursued (by Rob) in relation to their need(s), when in reality, it had nothing to do therein.  It was all about me and my needs.  For me to be friendly was easy.  But before long, when the stars aligned, intimate connection would occur.  Perhaps via a gesture or touch.  Maybe a short exchange of verbiage - heated or gentle.  But, in the end, I was exposed to that soft underbelly that so few were / are given the opportunity to see.  And it was that emotional energy that I drank down like dilithium crystals powering a warp core. 

This resulted in an instant leveling up for Rob.  For I was keenly aware of how privileged I was to experience those delicious, etched-in-my-long-term memory relational moments.

As such, my mantra eventually became (within Samson Society) to serve oneself wholeheartedly.  

In closing, make this place about you and your needs being met.  All in tandem with your deep desire to tamp down (& ultimately defeat) the morally bankrupt captivation (sexually explicit material, chemical, etc.) that's established / hardened itself within your mind.  

This is my personal rallying cry.  Because it's worked wonders for me.  

In closing, I will forever be on the prowl.  Hunting my next opportunity to be seen by men who are willing to take the time to know me outright.  Warts & all.

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.  

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

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?

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

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.  

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

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

Even 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.

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

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.   

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.