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.

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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.

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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.

I Can Relate To Your (Patriarchal) Familial Imbalance. It Sucks For You, But It's Life As You've Always Known It. Endure.

What if your dad isn't at all like the man you've become (as a middle-aged adult)?  Let me be more specific.  What if he isn't (wasn't ever) capable (intelligence, personality, interests, motivation, etc.) of becoming the man you've become (as son, friend, businessman, leader, volunteer, etc.)?  As such, all-in-all, let's assume he's honest and loyal to a fault, trustworthy and generally kindhearted as it relates to how he carries himself / engages with others.

Firstly, if this scenario represents - even in the slightest regard - your reality, there's a chance your father is going to see you - at times and within certain scenarios - in a paradoxically pejorative light.  At least to some degree.  Especially if you're his only son.  And this has everything to do with how you - at times - make him feel. 

Now why is this?  What fuels it?

1.  Competitive outlook that's baked into many men.  Especially Type A men (which your dad likely is).  

2.  Your very existence (especially if you've telegraphed - to any degree - your being cognizant of this imbalance).

3.  Men crave respect moreso than anything else.  It's why the massive Ford F-150 has and continues to be America's #1 in vehicle sales each year.  Can there be no greater disrespect than having a son who existentially contrasts so sharply with his father in light of his own (possible) insecurities surrounding his capabilities, drive, intelligence, creativity?

All in all, if this kind of bizarre hierarchal imbalance exists between you and your father, and you sense at times that he feels (almost or very much) threatened by you, I cannot emphasize enough the following:

Your FEAR of him, specifically his testy, indecisively (discriminately) temperamental persona is a massive waste of your time / energy.  For that testy, indecisively temperamental persona can't truly hurt you (despite its scariness) though your boyhood self would argue otherwise.  

To that end, it might have especially frightened you when you were a boy / young man, and that's understandable.  Perhaps when you absolutely needed stable love and support.  

But you're not a boy anymore.

You're a grown ass man.  Remember that.

Oh, and one last thing.

Unless your father happens to be mentally ill or intrinsically cruel, he's no doubt very proud of you and your accomplishments as his son, a solid friend, successful businessman, natural leader, steadfast volunteer, etc.   

Divorce Prejudice

Earlier this week, I had lunch with an old friend.  I'd bumped into him the week prior and upon taking his card, promised to follow up.  This man is +/-12 years my senior, white, upper class (for MS), working in a tangential industry to architecture (my first career).  He was instrumental in supporting me therein (while I was working in the private sector) for a number of years.

Around 16-17 years ago, this man surprisingly divorced his wife, and though it didn't hit me as hard as it would have otherwise (if we'd been closer friends), it still hit hard.  For I knew his wife indirectly (I'd perhaps met her twice), and I knew he had two beautiful children.

Why?

I honestly don't know how to say this with any distinct class.

When I get to know men, any men, I see inside, and unless they're absolute fools (which very few are), it's obvious to me that a high percentage of their divorces are clearly longstanding relational forfeits.  And this seems to be especially true when children are involved.  In other words, a divorce, to me, unless it involves adultery, abuse, addiction is very rarely warranted.  You might say this is an unreasonable approach I'm presenting (especially if said spouse is being "unreasonable")!  And that's true.  I really can't be reasoned with here.  Divorce should be avoided at all costs.  The Bible makes that clear, therefore why don't we follow suit?  

We don't follow suit because we're birds of a feather, and getting divorced provides an accepted cop out that many folks willingly choose.

Along with divorce comes a certain tainting or mark that's inevitable.  And, as you know, it's a forever mark that's almost impossible to hide.  I believe most divorcees never realize this 'till it's too late.  Now, whether or not they truly care therein is up to the individual.

As a sidenote, earlier today, whilst at the Y, I overheard two older men chatting about grieving the loss of (one of these men's) a spouse.  After 10+ minutes of heartfelt diatribe, the newbie widower admitted that his now deceased wife was #2.  In response, his friend admitted to being right there with him.  In fact, he cited his first marriage as his "practice marriage".  Puke.

And these were some old dudes who were making light of their historical, relational failures.

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Interestingly enough, during this same lunch, another old friend made his way into the restaurant.  And too, this was a colleague from my architecture days.  The difference though was this man (who's 5-8 years my senior) worked directly with me (again, private sector position).

And like my lunchable friend, he too eventually divorced his beautiful first wife, leaving his only child, a son, to manage the fallout after the fact.  

If there's one man, for me personally, that's a divorcee (failure) figurehead, it would be this guy.  For I knew him prior to marrying even.  But as the years went by and his (first) wife's mental health weakened; his resentment was so very obvious.  For his mockingly disrespectful words (of her, to anyone within earshot) more often than not, made my ears bleed and my heart hurt.  

Eventually, prior to his quiet divorce, he began a heady emotional affair with a much younger colleague of ours at work.  It was so obviously toxic to everyone on staff, yet no one but me chose to speak up (to the owners).

I can still see the two of these lovebirds staying long after 5 o'clock, gazing into each other eyes from the confides of this man's windowless office.  Puke.

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Overall, I renege when it comes to deeply befriending men who're divorcees.  The only time I've bucked that trend was back in 2013 whilst working at Delta State.  At that time, there were two men who I befriended who were as such.  One had chosen to not remarry and the other had been remarried for some time.

I was desperate for friendship whilst residing in that small town environment.  These two were both platonically attractive in light of their pasts.  

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When my parents' marriage exploded due to chronic infidelity (early '80s), according to my father, my parents sat down and seriously discussed the implications of divorcing:  financial, emotional, etc.  Afterwards, neither chose that route, and from there, they trudged forward in spite of the mistrust / woundedness.  

Was their marriage ever the same?  No.  

But I can say this in full confidence:  Had they divorced, only child me having to deal with that fallout in tandem with my own interpersonal (sexual identity / struggles with lust) suffering would likely have been too much for me to bear.

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I'm pleased to report that I'm becoming more sympathetic and forgiving of divorcees.  I never imagined this would occur.  I do believe my time at Delta State (2013) did me some good in that regard.  For it forced me, out of desperation, to give divorcees a chance.  A chance to be heard and loved in spite of their mark.

That Hot, Sexy Runner: Reversing The Clock By 20 Years...

Spring has sprung in Mississippi.  

During my drive home yesterday, 3/17 (I was within two miles of the house), I came upon a runner.  And not any runner, mind you.  This early to mid-30s man was at his physical peak.  And shirtless to boot!

The blind (topography) intersection he was running through was decidedly dangerous for both motorists & pedestrians, considering the lack of sidewalks much less curb and gutters.  Nonetheless, he was front and center of those of us behind the wheel as he sashayed his muscular, tanned frame, weaving in & out of the end-of-the-business-day traffic confidently.

I was close enough to deduce that his physique was not unlike any number of Special Forces soldiers (in spite of the 800-mile distance to Fort Bragg from Flowood, MS).  Perhaps, as such, he'd very much lost his way.

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A close Coonass (I love this man) friend of mine made the recent comment that he was in a much better place today than a month ago.  His thoughtful prose is always appreciated.

I have been chewing on that outlook for days now.  For I find it so very insightful as to how we should consider our recovery journey:  on a timeline.

If I were to turn back the clock twenty years, I'd be 32, married for 8 years with one child (toddler).  I'd be floundering (very, very bored with the work) at my first career-building architecture job and deeply, deeply entrenched (numerous hours a day) in gay porn's poison (both at work and at home via the www).  My physical health at this time was a non-priority in my life, and my walk with God also was on autopilot.  My sweet wife, Angie, was home with Babyone and only beginning to find side hustles (executable from home) to supplement her husband's meager income.  And just so you know, I had just relinquished my part-time gig as janitor at the architecture firm that I was employed at full-time.  The shame I felt for having to take on this humiliating (10-month) after hours gig was still - at this time - weighing heavy on my 32-year-old self.

To sum it up, I was in an extremely vulnerable / isolated place during this time of my life.  There was so much negative going on inside my head.  Negative that was terribly sensitive to even the most minute incendiary catalyst.

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Now then.  Let's drop my 32-year-old sorry ass self into the happenstance situation I encountered during my drive home yesterday, (3/17).

First and foremost, I would have instantaneously seen the situation for what it was to me at the time.  An opportunity to exploit.  High-definition mental snapshots of the shirtless stud would have ensued (as I steadied my glare), and from there, I would have had my lust fodder for the following week plus.  

Simultaneously, tremendous shame regarding my desire for this man would latch onto me as if it had been all along ready and waiting within my passenger seat.  These feelings would belittle and diminish me, no matter how well the hours of the day prior had unfurled.  As a result, a tremendous awareness of my feeling intensely isolated would become my front and center state of mind.    

Having identified an opportunity, I would then utilize my memorized photos / experience therein to cope (via heady sexual fantasy).  That opportunity likely would be after my sweet wife was asleep later on that evening.  The fantasies I would concoct would harken back to the very same ones from my adolescence (stitched together neatly through time).  All of those involved me being platonically pursued by masculine, athletically built men under the guise of sexual attraction / lust.

And this, my friends, is voyeurism.  And voyeurism is sin.

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The most noteworthy aspect of my 20-year-younger self - in regard to this spontaneous encounter - would be how specifically captivated he'd be.  It would be as if he were nothing but a void or black hole.  A void / black hole constantly seeking to be filled up via the attention / desire of other, only viewed from a distance, men.  

This was my life back then.  I managed it the best I knew how, but frankly, it was my chronic isolation that left me stuck therein.  

Yet, throughout, I had no idea how not to be isolated nor what it might look like were I not.  For this was and always had been my normal.  Especially from the standpoint of being whipsawed in and out of my routine relative to who / whom I might encounter circumstantially.

Certain men were in complete control of Rob.  And I knew of no other way to exist.  It truly sucked.

Thanks be to God that I'm in a much better place today than I was twenty years ago.

Desperation To Be Seen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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In closing...

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

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

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

Marinating In The Debased / A Fantastic Interruption!

I have found, as of late, so much insight (& balloon busting emotional calibration) by listening in on pagan men's point of view / choices therein as it pertains to what they actually do with their sex organs and why.  To be more specific, gay porn stars and their careers (full-time or side hustle) therein.

You might find yourself befuddled over such an investment in my time, but there's no doubt, that for me, hearing these tales - directly from the horses' mouths - rattles me to the core (in a very productive way).  And this rattling effectively vaporizes the shrink-wrapped veneer that boyRob so easily / reflexively applies to smut.  A veneer that I habitually use to qualify its consumption as worthwhile. 

Regarding straight porn, there's tremendous exploitation of the females who model for that explicit content.  That's obvious to everyone.  But with gay porn, there's much less of that.  Instead, what you'll find is so many of these men are simple deeply, deeply wounded psychologically (whether gay for pay or not), and as such, their tremendously destructive actions ("art" imitating life) are then put on full display (for a small fee).  

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Let me return to this notion of shrink-wrapping smut. For it's been a real problem of mine for too long.  

I'm an architect.  Drawing / painting / sculpture are kissing cousins to designing buildings.  For well-designed buildings are a 4-D solidification of space using all the same tools one might use via drawing / painting / sculpture.  Therefore, composition is key (light, shadow, texture, proportion, and on and on).  

And this absolutely starts with the human figure.  For an artist begins his understanding of composition there.  

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My wife and two of my three daughters are returning from Paris today.  Having spent a few months backpacking throughout eleven countries in Europe during the summer of '94, I had no desire to accompany them on this first-time ever to Europe Spring Break trek.  Europeans have a very different relationship to the human form than we Americans do, and that's - for better or worse - the result of our Puritanical roots.  

Nonetheless, if you've ever had the opportunity to draw a nude model, you know that salaciousness quickly flies out the window as you're attempting to honor those few raw moments (with either charcoal, pencil, brush in hand).  

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One Valentine's Day (I believe it was around 2008), I gifted my sweet wife, Angie, a coffee table photo book of male models (95% of the content was explicit) posing as blue-collar Aussie blokes.  I did this in sincerity as a means to invite her into a "shared appreciation".  

Boy, did that not go over well.

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Considering all of this, there're a select group of human beings (we're no doubt all image bearers) that rank far higher in physical beauty than others.  And this beauty, no doubt, can certainly be celebrated whilst captured well via photography / film.  Unfortunately, that's where the veneering can come into play.  

So, what is a veneer?  Think about your teeth.  You can have a veneer applied therein to protect your chompers.  It essentially seals them over invisibly allowing nothing to truly penetrate to the tooth's surface.  

For some reason, I have ALWAYS done this with select gay porn (models who fall within my masculine archetype), but especially so regarding gay porn that's beautifully composed / lit, etc., taking the aforementioned Adonises into consideration.  And because of that veneering, I've always been naively kept at arm's length as to who these gents truly were.  And again, to reiterate, I now believe that much of this veneering became par for the course in light of my artistic background.  As such, this recent fantastic aforementioned interruption / illumination is founded on the deep roots of who these people truly are, what they stand for, etc. 

In essence, today, in light of the novelty of Flea Market porn sites such as Only Fans combined with podcasts featuring these homebrew / grassroots peddlers therein, the veneering is effectively being ripped off.  And it's being done with such voracity that my head is reeling.  For these men are contracted to no major porn studio.  As such, who they are becomes readily accessible, so long as they're willing to sit down and talk.  And many, many of them are an open book.  

As much as I can't, in all honesty, recommend this same de-veneering approach to the "general public", if your boyself is as stubbornly blind as mine is AND you have any semblance of an artistic eye, it may be that taking steps to lift the skirt of those you've come to worship / elevate may be the very thing that removes you too from the recovery plateau that you can't seem to easily shake.

But be forewarned.  Much of what you'll hear will break your heart into pieces.

Privately Lusting After Muscled And Hairy

My Covenant Eyes Ally had me laughing a few weeks back.  He's an attorney with a sharp wit.  Around that time, I had found myself being rebellious, therefore throwing caution to the wind, I'd been delving into smut (mostly via my pocket computer) in spite of CE's consistent monitoring (thankfully, this was not typical behavior for me).  

As such, on a few subsequent Mondays, a text message would appear subtlety / respectfully asking about my recent poor choices.  Not long after that, my Ally made a follow up that even today puts a smile on my face.  

He said, "You and I like the same thing except for the muscles and body hair." 

Lol. 

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When I was in upper elementary school, I went to an all-boys' summer camp (sponsored by FBC Jackson), and it was there (rural south AL venue) that I was shockingly exposed to my inevitable & archetypical (physical / emotional) future.  What I mean therein is I experienced a distinct encounter pertaining to what my future was pointing me (maturation) towards as a grown ass man.  At the same time, there was young me dealing with an ongoing subconscious disconnect / emotional chasm.  A chasm rooted primarily in shame / uncertainty.  For I understood clinically (in my head) what I was destined to grow into, but I absolutely, positively could not relate / understand / comprehend on any level what that meant for me specifically.  For I simply could not see myself as anything other than an unprepared, uninitiated boy.  It was as if I was stuck or frozen when it came to all things related to Rob's potential, celebrated journey into manhood. Therefore, when the time came for me to face the truth of what was on the horizon for me as a male, it understandably threw me for a loop / short-circuited my thinking.  As such, I quickly began idolizing therein that which I could not fathom albeit was desperate to fully understand / respect.  

I'm now ready to admit that there was sexual abuse involved in my lower elementary days.  It went on throughout one summer (Saturdays specifically), and though it didn't involve physical touch nor any malicious coercive intent (that I sensed at the time nor recall), its situational age inappropriateness (between me and the adult male party involved) was subtlety apparent to me even then.  I recall feeling powerless to speak up for myself during these instances of abuse disguised as "male peer bonding".  As a result, I began to equate MAN with a future I couldn't / refused to relate to.     

To circle back to my summer camp story, the exposure occurred whilst brushing my teeth before bed on the first night we were there.  Our bunkhouse chaperone (young adult male college student) nonchalantly stepped out of the shower naked and wet right in front of me.  His muscled (very adult-like), hairy, tanned body was in its athletically built prime.  And his junk looked absolutely enormous despite the mass of damp pubic hair crowning / partially obscuring it.  

Whilst looking back, I'm absolutely sure it was his junk that was the most shocking.  For it truly looked like a horse / donkey dick and balls (to my 5th grade eyeballs).  

I spent most of that week privately fixated on this reveal as we went about doing your expected Christian summer camp travails (such as singing "Kumbuya, My Lord" around the evening campfires).  But what truly kicked this fixation into high gear was when our Chippendales-like chaperone ushered a select few of my 5th grade colleagues to bunk with him within his adjacent private room (throughout the remainder of the week).

Oh, how I secretly longed for him to have chosen me.  As you can imagine, my imagination went into overdrive as a result.  

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Yesterday, whilst at the Y, there was a high school newbie strength training alongside.  He was not properly dressed for the gym, and that may have conveniently been due to his lean build (he was wearing slacks).  I silently admired his chutzpah for braving the space (at his age / with his build) for I knew exactly why he was there.  To actively work towards becoming more muscular / strong / "man-looking".  And like so many newbies, it was obvious that he'd no clue as to what he was doing.

Full disclosure:  My time at that stage of my life was spent lusting after muscled and hairy men.  And even moreso if they were golden tan whilst sporting a handsome mug. I did this with so little thought that it was almost as if I spent sizable portions of my adolescence within a sort of homoeroticized lust trance.   

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When the Internet came on the scene (within the first few years of my marriage), I'd found my private, digital honey-hole.  The salacious imagery, particularly the stunningly executed images of beautifully tan, hairy, muscle men only served to suffocate me with lust fodder.  

Eventually, considering the I.T. inevitable, the maturation of the Internet (dial-up to DSL to T1, etc.) ushered in a much broader spectrum of captivating smut.  I watched as photos became videos became HD videos.  

But eventually (in large part due to my decade-long participation within Samson Society), the intense salaciousness wore off and this type of imagery simply became a repository for cheap thrills (it all began to look the same).  

In line with that, my libido dramatically diminished simply due to my middle-aging.  

Internet porn blandness + middle-age reduction in sex drive = Reason to celebrate!

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Today, I'm really pleased with my physical self.  For I'm muscled and hairy in my own right as a 52-year-old man.  I especially like how I feel whilst casually dressed.  Specifically, I don't feel as if I'm hiding my body via my wardrobe.

Consistent strength training / running combined with healthy eating habits, over the past +/-18 years, has paid off in droves.  And, of course, genetics have benefited me too.  I'm very thankful to God for these developments.

When you loathe yourself, whether it's rooted in some form of childhood abuse or not, you know that such a negative outlook makes you decidedly vulnerable.  Vulnerable to rejection, criticism, failure.  Things that are inevitable life experiences.    

In order to survive, I had to commit.  Both to Samson Society (once I stumbled into it in 2014) as well as a healthy, very active lifestyle that was the antithesis of normal for a Mississippi man.  It's been a long-term commit.  In order to protect / honor myself.  For I remember the hurt and the abuse like it was yesterday.  Those scars will never be erased.