What Does It Mean To "Do The Work"?

I can only speak for myself as a Samson guy whilst answering this question.

Doing the work for Rob is positioning myself in healthy ways to "be seen".  And not by everyone mind you.  Instead, I'm referring to only the select (mostly Samson guys) that I'm interested in bringing in close.   

I've written recently about me identifying with an innate "invisibleness" that's haunted me throughout my life.  Similarly, my wife identifies with this void as well.  It's one of the ties that bind us together as a couple.

Invisibleness is centered around the feeling of (or actuality therein) being dismissed / overlooked / marginalized when you're confident that you shouldn't / don't deserve to be.  The last part of that explanation is centered on you yourself recognizing your own value / understanding it to the nth degree.

Because Samson Society is so very horizontal as an organization, from day one, I've felt comfortable pursuing friendships with men therein.  What I mean by horizontal is the vast majority of Samson guys are involved - & rightly so - due to crisis.  Marital, vocational, personal, spiritual, sexual or some combination. Hence, due to this homogenous trait, there'll never be any semblance of Samson Society attempting to mimic the Rotary Club (no one's there seeking a leg up).  

In light of everyone finding themselves welcomed into the community - literally face down in the dirt - the desperation for help absolutely levels the playing field.  As such, guys like me (desperate to be seen) raise few, if any, suspicions whilst pursuing intimate platonic relationships.  And even if that someone targeted is seemingly far different than I seem to be - at least on the surface.

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Being seen by Samson friends (& otherwise) strategically undermines my desire to consume gay porn.  How?  To answer that question, I firstly must explain the role gay porn plays in Rob's mind.  For me, today, as a 51-year-old, consuming gay porn satiates my need to "be seen" via a technique I've dubbed "bisecting".  

Bisecting is me placing myself within the role of the porn star(s) and basking CONFIDENTLY in the cinematic / photographic attention.  And this is particularly easy to do if these men meet my masculine archetype whilst sufficiently persuading me, as their audience, that their actions are rooted in love / tenderness versus animalistic desire.    

There's a lot to digest there.  But that sums up the role gay porn has paid / continues to pay within my life.  

Now, how might relational accountability via friendships with Samson brothers (or otherwise) strategically undermine my desire to consume this false reality (gay porn)?

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I had to reach a crisis point of my own in order to be positioned to look away long enough (from my gay porn consumption modus operandi) to chart a new path.  And God allowed that to happen in September of 2013 via my job loss from Delta State University.  It was absolutely the best thing that's ever happened to me despite the fact that it was the most painful / emotionally debilitating.

Had that re-positioning (perspective) not occurred, I would have never taken The Path seriously enough to find the slow forward march of recovery at all worthwhile.  

From there, I turned my attention - one Samson guy at a time - towards the pursuit to be seen HEALTHILY.  And oh, the satisfaction in finally finding a worthwhile means to "right this ship" / manage my trauma, etc.

In closing, following The Path is the most selfish of pursuits for it demands constant course correction as you navigate relationships within (& eventually outside of) this community.  What I mean by that is your recovery is of the utmost importance, even far outweighing the long-term cultivation (via commitment) of friendships within this community.  Commitment is for marriage.  Not friendship.  That being said, King David honored Jonathan, his dear friend (whom he loved moreso than any woman), long after his friend's death on the battlefield.  King David did this by acknowledging his legacy via his offspring.  It was a sweet gesture, but it in no way implied that David's love for Jonathan was as intense / relevant as it once was.

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Thank you, dear reader, for your faithfulness to my posts.  You too are part of that strategic undermining of my compulsive sin-laden go-to, and for that, I'll forever be grateful.  I feel seen today - in some small way - thanks to you.

Should Samson Society Intensive Attendees Remain In Their 3-Day Huddle - Bare Chested (Weather Permitting) - In An Effort To Optimize These Relationally Rich / Affirming Weekends?

I had a feeling that blogpost title would catch your attention!

Firstly, it's important to note that -

Another Samson Society Intensive Weekend is fast approaching!  You can find info regarding it here:  Mens Intensive — Lifeworks Counseling.  It is highly recommended, especially considering the fact that this Samson Society specific weekend has gained as much traction as it has.

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During Labor Day 2023, I found myself swimming in the Ross Barnett Reservoir (a sizable lake close to our home) with a new friend.  His family joined my youngest daughter and me mid-morning there at the manmade "beach", and from there, we very much enjoyed the cool water through mid-afternoon.  Throughout the majority of the day, he and I sat up on our knees beneath the muddy flow and chatted under the blazing sun.  This was the third time we'd had the opportunity to do so since meeting providentially during one of our church's annual daylong mission endeavors.  That early summer event required that we caravan to north Mississippi, and fortuitously, we ended up in the same vehicle for the +/-2-hour trek.  This, I felt, was the perfect opportunity to interrogate.

This new friend & his clan are officially visiting Lakeside Pres, having grown up Presbyterian (mostly) in small town Mississippi.  What I found to be so compelling about him initially was his selflessness.  For he volunteered to join in on the aforementioned daylong mission endeavor sans knowing ANY of us Presbyterians.  That, to me, was remarkably brave of him.

What stood out to me about our Labor Day at / in the Rez was how our bare-chested selves testified to the relaxed nature of our dialogue.  Now, mind you, we didn't delve into heavy topics (taking our surroundings / lack of privacy into account), but we did do our darndest to "fill each other in" as to what exactly we'd been up to prior to our friendship taking root.  Having come from very different backgrounds, this amounted to a sizable debriefing.

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Here in central Mississippi, the temperatures over the summer 2023 have been oppressively hot.  That combined with zero precipitation (particularly the Jackson Metro) has made for an unusual three months of misery.  To summarize, everything here has been thoroughly scorched / charred.  Unirrigated vegetation (turf, shrubs) has long since died from heat exhaustion, and many smaller, understory trees have also succumbed to the relentless, stifling heat.

Now, it's important to note that our climate is not TYPICALLY unlike that of a tropical rain forest.  Considering the amount of heavy precipitation we're accustomed to, combined with the lack of diverse topography / low elevations (we're relatively sea level), our forests are dense with towering / soaring conifers / hardwoods that aren't unlike God's own mid-rise skyline.  

Hence, shade (often deep) is thankfully prolific and therefore not too hard to find.  

As a twice-weekly runner, considering these 2023 brutal summer months, this shade has been my refuge.  

There's a lovely Botanical Garden that's 1.5 miles from our abode, and it's served - for well over a decade - as my halfway "cool down walking spot" relative to my 5K runs.  

This past Sunday (late afternoon), I found myself, once again, at this beautiful spot, having finished my initial 1.5-mile trek.  

It's important to note that throughout this hellaciously hot summer, whilst running, no matter the time of day, I've been going at it bare-chested.  And this is a big change for me.  For I just have never felt comfortable running - in broad daylight - semi-nude.

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If I could properly describe for you how uncomfortable I was as a teenager relative to being bare chested, I'd likely do by sharing the following middle school tale:

An out of the ordinary scoliosis screening happened at my private academy during my 7th grade year.  This consisted of our entire class of +/-45 students marching single file to the gymnasium for publicly executed physical examination of our spines.  

The girls went first (perhaps within a separate room), each having their spines briskly examined (through their shirts / blouses), one after the other, via a small group of "scoliosis pros".  From what I recall, there were no callbacks pertaining to them.  Afterwards, they were sent to reside within the wooden bleachers overlooking the bare-chested 13–14-year-old boys as we took our turn.  

And who might have been chosen for the only humiliating callback out of the 7th grade boys but Rob?

I recall walking past the middle school girls afterwards (I'd put my t-shirt back on at this point) and being asked by the sassiest of the bunch as to why I was called back.  

I quickly lied by saying that "They'd made a mistake".

Immediately, my interrogator snapped back with, "No they didn't.  You have scoliosis!"

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I wasn't an overweight or overly unattractive 7th grader.  No, the issue was I'd become captivated by male bodies that were muscular, tan, hairy, and typically older than mine.  Essentially, bodies of adult men who were professional-grade athletically built.  These bodies became my idols, and I bowed to their whims via my heady (& very private) sexual fantasies with them.  These private fantasies grew more and more ritualistic in light of their purveyance.  As a result, what little bit of healthy outlook your average 7th grade boy might have dramatically diminished within Rob until there was not one iota left.  

I don't recall anyone (peer or otherwise) ever labeling me negatively relative to my body, for we were all in the same awkward, middle school boat.  

In the end, it was me unfairly punishing / labeling myself for something ridiculously unimportant / irrelevant.  It's so unfortunate I had no one to step in and privately advocate on my behalf regarding this confusion.  But, then again, how would anyone have known I was under such emotional duress?

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In closing, I want to bring us back to the present by finishing out my aforementioned tales.

I felt equal to Bryan (my new Lakeside Pres friend) as he and I chatted, waist-deep in the Rez.  Though he's a decade or so younger than me, my 51-year-old athletic build didn't physically reflect that offset.  

Bryan talked a lot of his father-in-law and how he's about to "un-retire" due to boredom.  He described a man who's obsessed with looking / acting youthful (mostly via the younger company he keeps combined with a generous amount of hair dye).  

As I recall this, I have to laugh.

For there I was with my thick head of silvering wet hair amongst a plentiful amount of similarly colored chest hair on full display.  And I wasn't at all unwilling to own those physical attributes via appropriately putting them on display for both Bryan and anyone else within spitting distance to take note of / admire.

In fact, I would argue our bare-chestedness only solidified our friendship that much more effectively as we talked / threw the football, hung out there in redneck Rankin County on Labor Day 2023.

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Fast forward to last Sunday, (9/10) where I found myself, once again, at the Reservoir Botanical Gardens midday through my 5K run.  You'll recall that I was bare-chested and super sweaty on that sweltering afternoon.

And lo & behold, who might I encounter therein but one of Lakeside Pres' elders who was there to walk his pooch around the .6 mile, deeply shaded loop.

Awkward.

This man is close to my age.  He and his clan have paralleled ours through the years within our church.  

We ended up walking together, and by the time we were onto our second loop, he divulged some of the most heart-rending portions of his story to unsuspecting, semi-nude Rob.  It was uncanny.  For never in a million years would I have imagined this man trusting me with said tales.  Much less unannounced / requested.

When our walk concluded, we stood by his vehicle for a few additional minutes small talking.  I could tell that he was having a difficult time there with my hairy pecs on full display.  Hence, we affably parted ways, him driving away and me making a beeline to the adjacent fire station public restroom prior to my run home.  

Bare chested has its benefits, for sure.  Thanks be to God for how markedly different I feel about this as a middle-aged adult.

Lagniappe

Recommended Reading - Let's Discuss Buttplay Sans Shame

Study Claims More American Men Are Being Hospitalized For Having Foreign Objects Stuck Inside Their Rectum • Hollywood Unlocked

The reason men are into buttplay is not necessarily because they're homosexual / have same sex attraction.  That's a stereotypical generalization.  The reason lies in individual guy's relationship to their anus / rectum.

As we all know, this part of their body is only just a hair lower than a guy's scrotum.  Naturally, proximity to genitalia often results in experimentation - especially at adolescence (in tandem with discovering masturbation).  As such, that experimentation can result in discovering this "dirty" part isn't necessarily immune to tactile / erotic stimulation (inserting digits / objects).

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It was during a Samson Society intensive weekend a few years back when I first divulged (publicly) using anal sex toys unashamedly.  I mentioned it within a story (which I'd penned) that I was tasked with reading.  It was one of two tales (story of shame / story of blessing) that each man had been asked to write in advance of the weekend "share time".  I don't recall which of the two stories contained this particular detail (I certainly didn't expound on it).

A fellow Samson attendee and I were chatting later on (the following day), and he began weeping (tears of deep-seated shame) whilst privately acknowledging being able to relate to my buttplay travails.  I came away feeling conflicted as a result.  On the one hand, I was glad to have had the courage to share, but too, that particular detail, to me, wasn't meant as a bombshell confession.  

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I'll never forget Silas 1.0 blessing my admittance to using anal sex toys regularly.  We were en route back to Jackson from Lafayette, LA where I'd accompanied him to his DUI arraignment (June 2016).  I came away feeling seen and heard.  Soon thereafter, I gifted him a stainless steel buttplug with a thankful heart.

We never spoke of my interest in buttplay again, and that was absolutely fine by me.  Simply knowing that I'd had the courage to divulge this to someone I trusted so completely...that, by far was enough.

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Anatomically, the rectum isn't at all like the vagina.  It's not designed to be penetrated.  As such, it's very easy for men to injure themselves.  Sometimes to the degree that surgery is needed relative to correction / healing.

Years ago, I won a local essay contest, and as a result, had the privilege of befriending one of the other writers (at the awards ceremony).  I felt compelled to share my story (over a meal) with this young man, and as a result, he opened up similarly.  As a result, he was the first guy I had the privilege to meet who had the courage to admit to receiving a tear in his anal sphincter (due to being sodomized by a well-endowed man).  He went on to describe the ordeal in enough detail for me to realize just how unique the anus / rectum truly is.  What I mean by that is this:  It's certainly a pleasurable part of the body to stimulate, but again, as stated above, it's not at all like the vagina.

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Sodomy between men is sin (as is fellatio, mutual masturbation between men).  Women who enjoy being sodomized should no doubt reserve this activity for their husband, and hopefully, he's in agreement with her wishes.  I don't believe there're all that many husbands enamored with the notion of penetrating their wives in any other location than their vagina / mouth.  Nonetheless, no doubt, there're couples who make sodomy part of their bedroom routine.

Brokeback Mountain (2005) or "The Gay Cowboy Movie" starring Heath Ledger / Jake Gyllenhaal is a recommended film to screen.  It fully fleshes out the consequences of men crossing flesh lines (becoming sexual).  

There's a scene in that film where Heath Ledger's character, Ennis Del Mar, attempts to forcefully sodomize his wife whilst being intimate, and this is supposedly a consequence of his ongoing backwoods shenanigans with his close friend, Jack Twist (played by Gyllenhaal). 

What's interesting about both that scene as well as the (one) sex scene between the two men is how unnatural / forced it obviously is (pragmatically) for them to participate in.

I truly appreciated the filmmakers for realistically displaying this.

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Yes, there are women who experience pain / discomfort during vaginal intercourse.  Based on my understanding of this, many of these women are having a physiological response to being penetrated that's rooted in underlying emotional issues stemming from any number of culprits (anxiety, body issues, past abuse / assault, etc.)  Too, there're women who have physical issues that also can cause pain / discomfort.  

But the majority of women do not experience this.

The vagina is a self-lubricating, warm pleasure hole for a man's penis to repeatedly penetrate.  And though there're a small percentage of women who can actually be brought to orgasm via this repetitive experience, most need a little help from their clitoris.  Hence, the gentlemanly approach to vaginal intercourse is to allow her to orgasm FIRST.  

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For those of you who've never experienced dialoguing with your Silas / other Samson brothers regarding a personal topic like buttplay, my hope is that you'll someday take that leap.  Especially if you're participating therein, and simply know within your heart that you need to be heard / acknowledged regarding the matter.  Releasing that and not being judged for it is a massive gift.

I've heard so many stories involving everything from nipple play (self-stimulation) to "inflating one's belly" whilst masturbating, and all of these somehow get lumped together into dark, shame-filled corners of men's psyches (which oftentimes provoke ample tears).  Corners that can very well end up serving as jumping off points for risky, dangerous behaviors.  Behaviors that can lead to serious injury, if not death, because they tend to mutate within that darkness.

Be encouraged to bring everything into the light in due time.  Never forget that the men within this community are just as male as you are.

Is Lusting After (Social Media) Imagery Generated Via Artificial Intelligence Sin? Remember These Aren't Real Women. They Have No Parents & Cannot Be Your Neighbors. They Only Exist Via A Screen As A Result Of Soulless Software.

Unpretentious Exposure Then Rebuke

 

During the summer of 2015, I was delighted to have the opportunity to participate in my first Samson Society intensive weekend.  Back then, there was only one local (face-to-face) group here in the Jackson Metro, and we met at First Baptist Church Jackson (where they still meet today).  

The intensive weekend trip was to south Mississippi where we rented a cabin adjacent to the Okatoma River (for one night).  After traveling down Saturday morning, we kayaked / canoed the river (during a harrowing thunderstorm) before using the late afternoon / evening for "share time" around a lovely campfire.  There were only +/-10 Samson guys, therefore only a few shares bled over into Sunday morning before our departure.  

I chose to kayak the river (single-man kayak) shirtless.  I did this because I knew it would be personally contradictory relative to the engrained shame I was experiencing relative to my body.  Essentially, I knew that de-shirting there at the "put-in" would be tough, but over the course of the +/-3-hour river trek, I'd become more comfortable.  And that was definitely the case, for there were hundreds and hundreds of rednecks on the river that particular Saturday, and many of the guys were shirtless.

Too, another Samson guy (who I was serving as a Silas for) also (eventually) de-shirted.  And this was to my delight due to how affirming it felt to me.  Furthermore, I felt validated via his willingness to do this, and this made me truly grateful.

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My first significant "physical exposure" experience(s) were actually pre-Samson Society involvement.  Back in 2011 / 2012, I acquired my first Silas (though neither he nor I were privy to that term).  This man was four years my junior, and as such, we met weekly (Tuesday nights) to run, talk and pray (concretizing the absolute provocativeness / solidarity baked into relational accountability).

The running we'd accomplish shirtless (unless it was unusually chilly).  And what was interesting about this was how it impacted my Silas as much as it did me.  To be more specific, he found himself motivated to "get in shape" (strength training) as a result of his weekly exposure.  Hence, about four months into our routine, he'd muscled up significantly.

These weekly (mostly after dark) shirtless runs went on for well over a year.  As a result, I came away deeply grateful for how they validated / encouraged me as a late-30s man who'd never had such an experience.

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Post the aforementioned 2015 Samson Society intensive weekend (the following week), I decided to email my "Silee" in order to thank him / provide commentary as to why him too removing his shirt during the Okatoma River trip was so very affirming to Rob.  It's important to know that this younger man was in a canoe (with the facilitator of our Samson group), and that he stayed far behind my more easily navigable kayak throughout the trek.

In response to my email, I received a phone call where he rebuked me for "assuming he was sexually attracted to me".  I vividly recall panicking as he bared down via his rhetoric.  For I kept seeing all of this getting back to the Samson group facilitator who might very well ask me to leave the group.  Whilst attempting to hold back tears, I pleaded with him not to share my email with said facilitator or anyone else (even though it didn't even hint of impropriety).  For I was too broken / weak to stand up for myself / my true intentions at this time.

It's important to note that I'd only been a part of the Jackson Metro Samson community, when this occurred, for 10-11 months, and that - again - there was only one local face-to-face group.  

Too, you should know that my "Silee" was decidedly straight (he'd been a pastor who'd successfully seduced then bedded numerous parishioners before being removed from his position), and though he was a strikingly handsome guy, he was definitely not in line with my masculine archetype.

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Fast forward to 2018.  By now, I was facilitating my own Samson Society group at Lakeside Pres (my home church), and young "Henry", to my delight, I had the privilege of becoming a Silas to.  

It didn't take me long to discern that Henry was uber conscientious about his body.  He was quite lean at the time that I came to know him but had been overweight too just a year or so prior.  Due to the fact that he and his family lived less than a mile from us, we decided to take up running together not long after he nonchalantly disclosed that he'd run a marathon as a high school student.  

Though we only did this a handful of times (his work schedule eventually changed + they welcomed baby two), each run was rewarding in and of itself.

But unbeknownst to me, I inadvertently touched a nerve within my young friend during one of these outings.  And that had to do with wanting him too to run shirtless (which had been my default during previous runs).  (His rebuke, ironically enough, came within the form of an email.)

Why was it so important to me that he choose to do the same (run shirtless)?

I certainly wasn't sexually attracted to Henry's image-bearing bod.  No, that wasn't it.  Essentially, I wanted to (re)experience what I'd so enjoyed from all those years prior with my first Silas.  

That sense of affirming that I've only experienced via shirtless endeavors with friends.  It bonded us.  Unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

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One last story.

During the second Samson intensive weekend I experienced (2016), our itinerary included rafting down the Chattahoochee River during most of that Saturday.  Since it was April, all of us rafters (which consisted of the majority of the Samson guys who'd chosen to attend the weekend) wore wetsuits.  Upon our return to the outpost, every man made a beeline to the showers.  Unfortunately, the facilities were woefully inadequate in terms of number of showers / room to change, ventilation, etc.  Nonetheless, we'd all had such fun throughout our river run that this inconvenience was easily overlooked. 

As I made my way into the men's changing room / showers / restroom, it didn't take long for another Samson man to put everyone on notice (altruistically) as to my presence therein.  I distinctly remember brushing this off due to how energized I felt relative to the day.  Nonetheless, I came away feeling unfairly singled out.

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There's truly no way to know how other Samson guys will react regarding your story.  I believe that's why I consider it such a privilege to receive stories from guys whilst doing my darndest to not (over)react.  For if a man's courage to reveal his story results in ostracization / scorn / mistrust - of any ilk - there's a good chance he's going to reconsider being as open / authentic down the road. 

Is There Any More Hellacious Location To Consume Porn / Masturbate Than A Port-O-Potty In The Desert Sands Of The Middle East?

I can't think of any.

Every day at 5 PM CST, like clockwork, I hear from a young Samson guy who's been in deep seated bondage to lust for most of his life.  He and I have been chatting (telephone calls) for +/-1 year now.  And interestingly enough, we've only spent a handful of hours together face-to-face throughout that same period of time.  

We came to know each other via "Make Thursdays Great Again" which is the Price Is Right of virtual Samson Society meetings.  As such, like the TV show, not only is it high energy but it's easy to sit back and simply spectate (with a big grin on your face) amongst the throngs.

I moved away from that virtual group and haven't looked back, but my hope is he'll soon be reengaging therein (schedule permitting).  It's a perfectly comfortable landing spot for him for such a time as this.

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When he and I chat daily, we understandably never talk for too long.  His schedule is tight.  Plus, when you're as faithful as he is relative to communication (and twelve months has passed), an efficient routine / pattern develops.  

In this young man's past is active military duty.  Specifically, years spent deployed to the Middle East where he risked life and limb for not only our country but for those where he was stationed.  Since I've no experience as a soldier, I'm always fascinated to learn of his own (when he's comfortable divulging).  

A question arose yesterday, (7/26) regarding where exactly he chronically consumed porn whilst deployed in the Middle East, and he blithely stated, "in the port-o-potties".  

This admission gripped me as I tried to imagine doing this day after day there within that already bleak environment.

He went on to say that every soldier knew that the port-o-potties existed for such uses.  

!?!?!?

My head spun around five or six times when he divulged this to me, and in many ways, it's still spinning.

I cannot think of a more pathetic, hellacious location to consume porn / masturbate than a port-o-potty located within the god forsaken desert sands of the Middle East.  Yet, this was his everyday routine.  Particularly as it related to managing the emotional stress of being barely an adult combined with all the responsibilities of soldiering there within that complicated conflict.  

My young Samson friend lost his best friend within that environment too.  He rarely speaks of it, yet I know it haunts him and will likely do so throughout the remainder of his life.

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I mentioned in my previous post that bathroom stalls were my go-to in high school / college relative to masturbation.  I cannot over emphasize the amount of shame this routine imbued me with.  For is there anywhere on planet Earth more CLINICAL and more IMPERSONAL than a commercial bathroom stall?

There is.  It's a freestanding port-o-potty.

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As young men, my Samson brother and I chose to strip any semblance of dignity from our souls by taking part in this public restroom routine.  I clearly see / am reminded of that now.

What self-destructive, hyper-pathetic traps we so easily fall into within our youth, particularly as it related to our sexuality / libido / managing emotional pain.  Patterns that laid the groundwork for potentially so much more emotional anguish / regret to come (as we aged forward).

It is no wonder how easily deceived (internally / privately) we young men can become regarding the very expression of our sexual selves as males.  All due to the fact that this hugely important part of our lives - as young men / teenagers - may very well become relegated to settings designed for nothing more than filthiness and refuse.  

Desperation breeds ingenuity, yet ingenuity / creativity can at times be its own long-term undoing (just because you can doesn't mean you should).

Please pray for me as I continue to walk with this dear Samson brother, learning about myself (as much as he himself) along the way.  Eyes peeled.

Profound Sensitivity Whilst At "The Beach". (Childhood Past Overlapping With Present Experience.) Unintentionally Exhuming Teenage Trauma.

I requested of my parents that we take a beach vacation when I was a sophomore in high school.  At the time, I was around the age of 16 (I'm an only child).  My parents, concurrently, were in their mid-30s.  The year would have been 1988.  It's important to know that we'd never "beached trip" prior, though we had visited the Mississippi Gulf Coast (which has a less than picturesque beach).

I believe I made this specific "beach trip" request due to what I'd heard from a close friend relative to her family's beach vacations.  My friend's dad was an attorney, and each summer they integrated their beach trip in with the Mississippi BAR convention in Miramar Beach, FL.  My friend was a drinker and as such, very socially adept.  Too, her stunningly beautiful cousin from CA would fly in to join her relative to this annual summer beach vaca.  

It all sounded so COOL (despite the fact that I was anything but cool).  Why not give it a go with my family?

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My older two daughters and I just returned from Miramar Beach, FL this past weekend.  I was there for work (convention), and my daughters tagged along.  This specific convention, I've attended each summer for close to a decade.  It's an exhausting affair, though overall - typically - very productive / enjoyable.  

Miramar Beach is home to a 2,400-acre resort that was spearheaded in the 1980s.  It's at this resort where this annual convention has been held since 2015.

Too, it was at this same resort, back in 1988, that my parents and I vacationed when I was 16.  As such, it was my first time there.

As you might imagine, what I experienced at 16 at Sandestin was far different OVERALL than what's there today.

Except...

The same hotel building my parents and I stayed in back in 1988 is still there (though it's been rebranded as "condos").  

In fact, surprisingly, my girls and I stayed in that exact building last week while we were there.  As a result, I had no idea how profoundly influential our accommodations would turn out to be.

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Immediately upon inhabiting our assigned condo (hotel room), I felt a profound sense of sadness / insecurity that I couldn't shake for the entire four days we were there.  It was like a dark cloud that hung over me each and every day.  It's important to note that adjacent to this repurposed condo building is the original conference center for the resort.  Because our assigned condo (room) was at the end of the building, my girls and I would typically navigate through said pre-function conference space (entering & exiting the building repeatedly throughout the day).  

As a sixteen-year-old, I was notorious for exploring unfamiliar buildings.  Hence, I'm certain I did a fair share of exploring of this mid-'80s conference center.

To be more specific, because I was sharing a hotel room with my parents, I feel certain I was on the hunt for "off the beaten (sorry) path" public restrooms to masturbate within (sitting on the loo within an enclosed stall).  This pre-function conference space had restrooms that would have fit the bill exactly.  For whatever reason, as a teenage boy, doing this was just rebellious enough to satiate that adolescent season.

In fact, I used these restrooms last week (only for what they were designed for, thank you very much) often while we were there (as we entered / exited the building).

I know all this sounds ridiculously over the top bizarre, but...

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Immediately upon my girls and I returning home on Sunday, (7/23) afternoon, I facilitated the "Brain Changers" virtual Samson Society meeting (I just barely made it), and it was literally during our breakout session that everything began to crystallize within my mind (Summer 1988 past overlapping with Summer 2023 present experience).

I cannot underestimate how much I loathed myself as a sixteen-year-old boy.  Whether it was related to my body image, my sexuality (struggles with unwanted / intrusive homosexual desires), or my penchant for escaping via masturbation (often inside bathroom stalls), all of this compounded my disgust.  It was a private disgust that I wrestled with constantly.  

That sixteen-year-old Rob is alive and well inside my head.  Unbeknownst to me, I essentially re-traumatized him last week relative to our 2023 accommodations (being identical to his in 1988).  

How is this possible?

I have no idea.  I'm no brain expert.  But I can tell you this:  my sixteen-year-old self is in there.  And he remembers / is just as sensitive as ever.  Especially when the experience(s) were tough for him.  Plus, he was a budding architect at the time (I embarked into architecture school at 19).  Hence, buildings, in particular, made distinct impressions on his / my budding psyche.  

Having gone through this, I feel yet again humbled.  It truly is unbelievable how profoundly influential childhood experiences are relative to our present-day adult circumstances.  

Oh, Henry...

Of all the Samson guys I've had the privilege to befriend, Henry was the one I learned from the most.  He showed up at a face-to-face Samson meeting I was facilitating (2018?), having been invited by a mutual friend.  Immediately, he asked for me to be his Silas (he'd been smitten by Rob's authentic self, crassness, and propensity to encourage), and from there, we were off and running.

Henry was unlike any Samson guy I'd ever met.  Eventually, I discovered why.  He was depressed...perhaps even clinically depressed and had been throughout much of his life.  In spite of his youthful vitality (he was in his late 20s), it was apparent that something was off relative to this extremely intelligent, ambitious young man.  

Henry was very successful for his age.  He had a beautiful wife, multiple small children and a position at a large international corporation that paid handsomely.  But, like so many people who struggle with depression, Henry was easily agitated and very moody.  Too, he simply had little, if any spark, at all, for living life.  As such, he had few friends / little interests in making friends.  His stock rejection recusal was as follows:  "It's their loss, not mine..."

Because of his seemingly lifelong depressed state, he medicated himself with sex / lust, and this brought on tremendous guilt (Henry was a devout Christian).  Particularly considering that he was a homeschooled pastor's son (who loved his parents fervently) who just happened to be reared within the Deep South.  

The humdinger regret for Henry was his past (years-long) fornication with his sweet wife.  They went about this whilst being in college together (he was a commuter / she was living within the dorm).  The shame / regret therein regarding this carnal disobedience to God's word seemed to have stained Henry's soul permanently.  Yet, the virgin excitement / passion had effectively worked as a distraction to his depression.

As a run up to this, Internet porn / sexual fantasies effectively distracted too as Henry dealt with run-of-the-mill adolescent (high school years) rejection from both the opposite (romantic relationships) and same (platonic) sex.  Once he was gifted a laptop from his parents, (remember he was a saintly homeschooler) he dove right into the online fun - unfettered / unmonitored.

Henry rationalized this behavior via what he described as "anger towards God" (primarily as a result of romantic rejection), but I never bought it.  Instead, I now believe it was solely his depressed state that he was looking to buoy against.

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So, what did I learn from my then friend, Henry?

No amount of anything from me could truly help Henry because Henry refused to acknowledge his depression.  

Too, Henry believed therapists were a waste of time.

I can remember actively attempting to encourage my friend, Henry (as a husband, father, worker bee), yet in spite of our friendship, it was apparent that everything within his field of view was marginalized by his depression.  

Eventually, this young man turned on me via slander as he attempted to setback friendships I'd pre-Henry / concurrently established with mutual Samson guys.  (This was his attempt to absolutely be IN THE RIGHT.)

From there, he stopped communicating with me.  

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Fast forward to today.  

I have two active Samson friends who're taking prescription meds to manage clinical depression.  Both are successful husbands / fathers / businessmen just as Henry was, yet both admitted (years before I had the privilege to befriend them) that there was something else going on - in the background of their minds, so to speak - that was hindering them day to day.

Both of these men talk openly about their meds and how they've found hope via their prescriptions.  They also regularly meet with their psychiatrist regarding these drugs relative to being closely monitored therein.  

How different would Henry's life might have looked had he been properly diagnosed and treated (as a teenager) for his depression?  Specifically, would this homeschooled pastor's son chosen to not repeatedly fornicate (his greatest moral regret) with his girlfriend - within her dorm room, over a two-year period, in advance of their nuptials?  Would he have been less susceptible to brood regarding nascent romantic rejection, thereby reducing the pull towards concretized, rebellious online habits (porn consumption)?

When I first befriended Henry, his marriage was on the rocks, due to him being captivated by a sultry female colleague at work and their "friendship" therein.  This colleague was in no way a good fit for him, but he was so emotionally numb, she (her sultriness / mysteriously "mature" sensuality) was no doubt a fitting distraction to his mental illness.   

And it's that word, distraction, that Henry was always looking for.  In the end, I believe it too was all our friendship amounted to.  For his depression was far greater than anything else within his life.

Oh, Henry.  I pray you've sought out professional help.

Lagniappe

Two Pastors & A Parachurch Minister & Their Moral Failings / That Which I Can't Comprehend / Architects Aren't Typically Arsonists

This past Sunday, we had some visitors (new friends) to Lakeside Pres over for lunch.  We had a delightful time, with the primary purpose being introducing their oldest daughter to our youngest (in hopes of brandishing a relational entry point towards Lakeside's youth group).

As we were dialoguing about Lakeside Pres' youth ministry (as our family has come to experience it), the wife of the visiting couple chose to bring up a "creepy" youth pastor she was under the tutelage of when she was a teen.  She went on to say that her commentary regarding this man she'd never divulged even to her husband.  As such, she was visibly tense as a result.

Angie and I then cited our very first youth pastor (back in the '80s) at First Baptist Church Jackson, and his swift termination due to similar behavior(s).  I mentioned too (in general terms) the numerous instances I'd had described to me relative to outright pastoral abuse towards teens.

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When Angie and I were faced with our beloved youth pastor being fired abruptly at First Baptist Church Jackson, we were just old enough (14/15) to understand that something terrible must have gone down to warrant this.  Everyone loved Rick.  He was incredibly approachable, a capable Bible teacher, etc.   

The powers-that-be, in response, then hired a female youth pastor to replace him.  I can't help but believe that her having a vagina and breasts gave those decision-makers some peace of mind going forward.  

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Immediately following my graduation from college in 1995 (Mississippi State University's School of Architecture), I was invited to join a Young Business Leaders' (Jackson) Bible study.  I did so, but the small group I ended up in didn't have legs.  From there, I drifted away from this local parachurch ministry until the Executive Director wooed me to return (4-5 years later).  

I was delighted to then sit weekly with this Executive Director within a new Bible study group made up of 5-6 local Christian men (all of which were new faces to me).  I was a good bit older (& wiser), therefore my appreciation for said group had shifted immensely.  

This ED was incredibly approachable, a very capable Bible teacher, etc. (he reminded me of Rick, the disgraced youth pastor, in many ways).

Sadly, it was the August 2015 Ashley Madison hack / exposure that eventually preempted this parachurch minister's termination from Young Business Leaders.  

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During the fall of 2010, the then youth pastor at Lakeside Pres (he was terminated in January 2012 / last day August of that same year) came to me for support relative to his online "porn addiction".  

Though I'd never heard the phrase "porn addiction", it scared the hell out of me.  Especially in light of it coming from the lips of our youth pastor (who came across as a genuinely nice guy).  

Keep in mind that our oldest daughter, at this time, was seven, therefore our children weren't YET under this youth pastor's guise.

A few months after his request / confession to Rob, this younger man was placed on probation by Lakeside Pres' elders (they weren't privy to his "porn addiction"), giving him six months to "right the youth ministry ship" (he never did).

From there, he took another youth pastorate position (within another state) which only lasted a few weeks before his termination there.

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All three of these pastors / ministers were sidelined (at least partially) by sexual sin.  

I was thinking, thinking, thinking last night about these men (particularly the last two because they're more recent).  It's important to note that the only one I'm still in touch with is the latter.  He and I chat every week.  

Those this may sound like a weird statement, I'm going to declare it.  I believe these men were somehow feeding off of their rebellious / morally corrupt behavior for a distinct emotional purpose.  It's just that I've no real understanding of what was being fed or how.  For them to be M Divs (Master of Divinity) throughout (or at least working towards) is what's so bizarre / counterintuitive from the standpoint of attempting to understand why they were so needy to begin with.

My still friend (who I chat with weekly), I believe, attempts to drown out what's left of his (years later) regret relative to what he risked losing (which he eventually did) in order to obtain that which I couldn't back then nor still can't comprehend.  

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In closing, I'm convinced that certain men (no matter their chosen vocation) have powerful drivers that put them in harm's way in order to feel - a certain way.  

My friend used to talk about feeling "anything" as his ultimate goal (which I used to chalk up to a cop out).  

Was that the end goal?  Intensely feeling a certain way?  If so, how did the emotional life of these men become so lobotomized to begin with?  Especially in light of them pursuing the pastorate.   

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One final thought (& this may sound ridiculous):

None of these three men were Associate / Senior Pastors at a church I was a member of.  Typically, the Youth Pastor position is a steppingstone to these.  As such, these men's true colors were exposed therein (before gaining access to more responsibility / influence via a higher position).  

Parachurch ministries, in my opinion, don't equate to church.  Hence, though those men may believe themselves to be pastors, they are not.    

I'm so fortunate to have befriended / been ministered to by numerous pastors / assistant pastors throughout my life.  These were men (& women) who simply didn't have this default impropriety that reeked such havoc within the lives of their peers. 

Nonetheless, each of these remain within the same plane hierarchically.  All had value for such a time as that.

(No Longer In) Bondage To The Thrust

I never would have known my local Samson friend was so spellbound by hot women 'till we had (a repeat) restaurant lunch.  As such, a troupe of high school girls traipsed in, and eventually sat adjacent to us.  These were pristine, rich, white girls wearing the latest designer clothes / hairstyles.  There was 6-8 of them, and they were all bubbly and giggly as they carried their sizable pocket computers like individual bars of gold.  These girls were undoubtedly students at the across-the-highway private academy, and they were there at this restaurant on "lunch break" (having driven their parents' BMWs and Mercedes-Benz across the way).  Likely many of them came from heady stock - CPAs, surgeons & prominent business owners, having been expectedly pampered throughout their short lives.

At the time, this friend was my Silas 3.0, and the tension he was experiencing due to the "availableness" of this troupe was impossible to miss.  I remember feeling powerless and a bit annoyed but altogether grateful as well that I wasn't in his intensive heterosexual shoes.  

All in all, I vividly recall him being visibly distraught as he forced himself to not glance their way.  It seemingly took all his strength in order to NOT capture / captivate / become spellbound by their sexual prowess.  As an aside, him wearing his work uniform likely only added to the intensity of this moment, serving as a reminder of his past, pre-conversion (Christianity) hedonism with many a similar lay.  

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Saturday, (7/1) my wife and I executed our typical weekend workout at the local Y.  Never before had I seen one particular mid to late 20s man in there prior.  His upper body was lean and svelte, but his legs - damn his legs - were stunningly beautiful.  

Stunningly beautiful legs = muscular, hairy, beautifully proportioned.  Bulky thighs / calves, seamless knees / ankles.  Tan flesh.  Either dark or blonde (leg) hair.  And they must be long, thick hairs that drape over the muscled flesh like a silk carpet.

This young man was no doubt athletic.  Perhaps he was a runner or a rock climber or both.  He could have been a varsity / collegiate (baseball) catcher.  Anything requiring that constant crouching down that builds lower body strength and the subsequent mass.  For that's where his strength lay.  Lower body.

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Well over a decade ago, I showed up to sing (routine Wednesday night rehearsal) in our church choir at Lakeside Pres, and the melodic tenor (who was a new guy to me and the church in general) sitting adjacent was wearing shorts (as I was).  He was around my age (late 30s at the time), and due to the stunning beauty of his long legs, I literally came close to creaming my shorts as we sang to the Lord - our austere Presbyterian tunes - over the course of that hour.

Let me repeat:  these were some stunningly beautiful legs, and they were close enough for me to (accidently?) rub up against.    

The owner of said legs was married (his wife too sang in the choir), and as a couple, were also new to the area.  Not long after this up close legebration, they decided to move away to greener pastures which resulted in him taking his stunningly beautiful legs (as well as his incredible voice) to the Pacific Northwest.  Not long after that, I stopped singing in the choir, covertly mourning my loss.

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The summer after I graduated high school (1990), I had to take College Algebra before entering into the freshman architecture school curriculum at Mississippi State University.  I took this course, along with English Composition I, at Holmes Community College's then newly opened Ridgeland campus.  

Upon entering the latter's classroom, I found myself sitting across from a handful of high school (Madison-Ridgeland Academy) peers (two girls and one guy), one of which was a varsity athlete (football, baseball, track) who I'd never once spoken to.  It's important to know that at our high school, the boys weren't allowed to wear shorts.  Hence, blue jeans were the norm.

To my delight, there was no such dress code here at community college.

"Trevor" was wearing athletic shorts during that first day of English Comp I and every day afterwards.  Our class met thrice weekly for +/-90 minutes, therefore I had a front and center view of his stunningly beautiful legs each and every day we met.  This entire experience served to both captivate and suffocate me simultaneously.  For it both enlightened and horrified Rob as to what he was primarily attracted to in certain other men.

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Masculine sexual activity is all about thrusting (movement of the erect penis in and out of the wet vagina).  There's no way around this.  That thrusting is done via the lower body.  The entire porn industry is built upon this animalistic movement.  This beautiful movement that powerfully personifies the act of intercourse.  

Interestingly enough, my Silas 2.0 masturbated by humping the couch / bed prior to ejaculating within his briefs.  I'd never met another guy who did this.  He refused to masturbate any other way, having "taught himself" this technique as a boy.  That dry humping, of course, is a thrusting movement that's lower body executed.  According to him, he only needed 60-90 seconds to climax therein via this technique (efficiency was first priority for this Samson guy - in everything).    

To summarize, this lower body thrusting is decidedly heterosexual intercourse anatomical vocabulary.  As such, the lower body of a man may very well equate to this visually.  And that is definitely the case for me.

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To circle back to the young man my wife and I encountered this past weekend at the Y, he not only had those aforementioned stunningly beautiful legs, but he also was very polite.  He and I spoke a couple of times, throughout our time there, as we crossed paths during our respective - 90-minute - strength training workouts.  

But what didn't occur - in the very least - was me becoming "in bondage to the thrust" as a result.  Instead, I simply acknowledged what I witnessed, and went on my way.

How did I accomplish this at this stage in my recovery?

I honestly don't know.  

Yesterday, during our "Brain Changers" virtual Samson Society meeting, the word was FREEDOM, and this narrative of mine (what I've encapsulated here) was front and center.  But, even having a full 24-hours to ruminate on this further, I still can't pinpoint what's specifically occurred to free me from these shackles.

Maybe it's simply that I've met my quota for stunningly beautiful legs.  I can tell you that I've been so very blessed to know enough men with tree trunks - as I've described here - that perhaps I've simply leveled up as a result.  It's as if that guy, "Trevor", from high school (who sat across from me for two summer months at HCC within English Comp I) has been sexual with me via the countless tree trunk brothers in Christ I've intimately (keyword) befriended since 1990.  

For I wanted nothing more than to be pursued by this guy.  That's what my sexual fantasies - involving him - revolved around.  Him befriending me prior to us having a homosexual relationship.  All throughout that summer - post high school.  

Let me be more specific.

All three of my Silases have been men who I've experienced intimacy with - on a level (I would argue) - that equates to a sexual relationship.  

To take that statement a step further...

Even without the exchange of bodily fluids, the mystique of their individual manhood(s) I've had the opportunity to observe / experience - up close and personal.  Besides these formal Silases, there've been countless other men (mostly within the framework of Samson Society) who've provided me with similar experiences.

Each of these experiences has uncovered more and more of what I longed to know and understand about men (including my own individual, reflected manhood) back in 1990.  

It's just taken a really long time to get to this point of me now knowing enough to properly level up.  

Relationships take time and SO MUCH WORK.  They're the exact opposite of sexual fantasy which are cheap and thereby overall worthless.  

I have been so blessed by Samson Society.  I realize it when I have experiences like I did this past weekend at the Y.

Lagniappe

Attempting To Put the Kibosh On POTENTIAL Sexual Tension Within Silas Relationships (Addressing That New Script Verbiage)

Within the last (30) days, the Samson Society meeting script (available online to virtual meeting facilitators) has been updated to include some pointed language (within the part that speaks to obtaining a Silas).  

The initial iteration of that inclusion read something like this:

"The Samson Society is a place to practice nonsexual intimacy.  In order to promote the emotional growth of our members and protect spiritual health of our community, sexual communication or connection between members is prohibited.  Misconduct is addressed according to Matthew 18."

There are men who are on the hunt for relationships with other men that exist within sexual tension.  Specifically, they're looking for guys who they're sexually attracted to and vice versa, thereby generating the potential for segueing the initially platonic relationship into the sexual realm.  

When you're engaging with others online (outside of Samson Society), and this is your modus operandi, it's likely going to carry over, by default, whilst transitioning into our community.  That is, unless it's made clear up front that this MO isn't welcome.  

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I befriended a middle-aged Samson guy earlier this year who eventually made it clear - to me - that his intent aligned therein.  Keep in mind though that this was before the Samson Society meeting script change, and this man too was far more involved within other online Christian recovery ministries (most of which had already added statements like this one).   

Once this friend notified me regarding his present nurturing of a sexually tense relationship, he asked me to "hold him accountable" relative to "the integrity of their friendship".  

He described the relationship as follows:

"...in addition to that, I confess I have grown pretty infatuated with a friend I met through (other Christian men's ministry).  Like me, he has a lot of flexibility in his work and we've been able to talk a lot.  We have not done anything inappropriate, and both are committed to staying above the fray, but I confess I have been intensely attracted to him, and he to me.  I want to learn to keep this friendship but keep it safe."

He then responded accordingly to my initial (very negative) reaction:

"Rob, thank you so much for your response earlier.  I can understand why you would have such an intense reaction.  I hope you will still be my friend and keep me accountable if I continue with my friendship.  He and I have set strict boundaries of what we can talk about and what we will allow each other to see from a physical perspective.  We do need to talk about the time factor as we should limit that as well.  ...I would like to face rather than run from these feelings to understand what the real need is and be honest about that, rather than just ignore it."

Here's an excerpt from my final communication:

"I can't support you my friend, going forward, if you choose to continue with your infatuation relationship."

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This verbiage is needed / has been needed within the Samson Society meeting script for some time.  

How Might Chronic, Sexual Sin (Adultery) Impact A Man's Long-Term Physical Health?

Prologue:  I'm more interested in adultery here versus fornication because typically the latter is tied to younger men, and younger men are usually overall physically healthier.

Too, adultery (chronic or standalone event), if successful, requires a husband to be deceptive.  Deceiving one's spouse (in tandem with going against one's internal moral compass) takes coordination and a willingness to break vows.  This cheating will instigate a strong physiological response.  I believe, for some adulterers, they're (sickly) more drawn to this response than the sexual trysts themselves.  

Fornication typically represents a pattern of sexual sin that's in line with one's "youthful" paganism.  In other words, it's not at all out of sync with a bachelor's "culturally expected modus operandi" as a playa.

Adultery, within western culture, (thankfully) is still strongly frowned upon for spouses to participate within.  That, I believe, is what could make it all the more deadly (for both the marriage and the adulterer).

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Adultery being rooted in deception / lies relative to how a spouse is spending their "down" / free time cannot be underestimated in terms of its debauchery potency.  For not only does it, by definition, involve lies, but it loops in a third individual (by definition innocent) whose life is also being intimately affected.

So what does this do to a man's physical body when adultery, particularly chronic adultery, occurs?

Firstly, there's the obvious.  The potential to becoming infected with a sexually transmitted disease. 

Besides that, I'm really wanting to hone in on the moral dilemma / fallout / stress (& all the physical ramifications therein) that adultery brings to bear. 

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Russian husbands are culturally expected to be adulterous.  Mistresses = masculinity within that country alongside being inebriated via vodka (prolonged weekend binges).  In fact, I'd argue that it could be one of the latter's primary purposes - to chemically mask over the former's moral heartburn.

Based on my observations, regarding husbands residing on domestic soils, more often than not, they're quick to confess their moral failings (to their wives) in order to:

1.  Hopefully acquire immunity to becoming a repeat offender

2.  (Within their mind), most efficiently reckon with the overtly burdensome guilt / shame resulting from their actions.

Taking into account an American husband who's constantly repeating his sinful shenanigans, whether it's prostitutes, massage parlors, phone sex, anonymous hook-ups, and so forth, could his lifespan be tremendously shortened as a result?

I believe so.

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When the brain is rutted towards adulterous behavior, the culprit therein is a false identity that's taken hold of the husband.  An identity that's somehow feeding off of the man's need relative to identifying himself as worthwhile / valuable.  

If a husband's primary desire is respect, wouldn't that desire firstly be rooted in self-respect?  What more efficient (read:  fast), more masculine way is there to achieve that than via chronic adulterous behavior - especially taking into consideration the seduction dance, acknowledgement of attraction, and ultimate sexual experience (all of which can be successfully pulled off within a matter of hours)?

I realize it sounds animalistic, but the point here is to focus on the false identity.  

And it's this false identity (hypocrite) that's so polluting.  For when it's in control, it's hijacked the rationale of the husband.  Therein lies the high-risk to his health / well-being.  For it's grounded in counterintuitively misaligned values which then promulgate a roller coaster day-to-day existence (constantly being on the lookout for illicit sex opportunities).

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I have a divorced & remarried Samson friend who's in his mid-60s and his health is failing.  The majority of his life, he was the chronic adulterer, having had illicit sexual trysts with hundreds, if not thousands of women.  

The origin of this brain rut, for him, was a sexual relationship he developed (freshman year in college) with the mother of his then girlfriend (who also happened to be the wife of his pastor).  

The false identity (that I cited above) was borne out of this reprehensible amoral relationship (which took flight whilst he was a young man).  A sexual relationship that continued to thrive for close to a decade.  Hence, this false identity became Godzilla-like relative to deeply rutting this man's psyche.  

Could the damage done via this - Godzilla-like false identity - be what prematurely ushers him to his grave?

It's important to know too that the pastor's wife had many teenage young men suitors (similar to my friend).  

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This question comes down to the following:

Are our bodies negatively impacted via morally despicable behavior?  Particularly morally despicable sexual behavior?

The Bible speaks to this.  For it cites sexual sin as "sin against the body" which sets it apart.  It also mentions our bodies being vessels for the Holy Spirit.  

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If my retired Samson friend HAD NOT participated within those illicit adulterous sexual relationships as a result of him refusing the initial advances of his girlfriend's mother (his pastor's wife), would he today be a physical healthier man?

I'm convinced he would be.  Yes.  Absolutely.

 

"Momma's Been Married Five Times."

A few weekends back, I had lunch with a friend from church as an embarrassingly tardy follow-up.  He's one of those (surprisingly cool) middle-aged men who's a contrarian (taking his own upbringing into consideration) relative to his marriage / rearing of his own children.

When he and I dined together initially (pre-pandemic - 2019? - I honestly can't recall exactly), I vaguely remember him chatting a fair amount about his devout Christian mother.  He likely mentioned (the embarrassing truth) her marital track record then, but it must have blown past Rob without registering.  More than likely, I simply had forgotten about this curiosity.  Or perhaps, I felt a pity overflow (for him), and therefore simply refused to allow it to stick.  Considering this latter assumption, I cannot underestimate the fact that today, he presents himself as a really nice guy who simply found himself (as a boy) within the line of fire as a result of his mother's issues.

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I have a deceased uncle whose second wife (& mother to three of my cousins) is now married to husband #6 or maybe #7.  She's - at present - essentially estranged from some (if not all) of her three children due to this chronic romantic recklessness.  

Back in the early '80s, she was repeatedly unfaithful (with her eventual second husband) to my uncle which subsequently resulted in their divorce.  

There's a story that I've heard my father (& another deceased uncle - my dad's younger brother) reminisce about relative to some of her infidelity hijinks during this time.  It has to do with the two of them accompanying their brother (her then husband) on an "adultery stakeout" in small town Mississippi.  The punchline zeroed in on her large breasts stalling her from escaping out of her lover's bathroom window (supposedly topless) in reaction to her husband (my suspecting uncle) banging on the front door.  

I recall the first time (+/-15 years ago) I heard my dad and his younger brother awkwardly retell this heartbreaking tale.  For everyone knew that it was her husband's punitive - after the fact - physical reaction (he assaulted her) that gave her clear legal credence to ultimately file for divorce (& gain custody of my cousins).  From there, their beautiful three boys were gone forever.

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I never really thought about / considered women being compulsive sex consumers until I became involved in Samson Society.

Years ago, a former parishioner at Lakeside Pres was referred to me (as the then facilitator of the Lakeside Pres Samson Society group).  He and I had dined casually once prior, but circumstances being what they were now, our second sit-down was not at all as jovial as the first.  As a result, he agreed to attend his first (& only) Saturday morning meeting.

The first statement out of his mouth was (during share time):  "My wife is a sex addict.  That's why I'm here."

That's the one and only time I've ever heard a guy make that statement within all the hundreds and hundreds of Samson meetings I've attended since August of 2014.  

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I've known of a few older Samson guys who've married much younger (& understandably hornier) women.  Youth = vitality (particularly as it relates to libido).

But that's not what I'm attempting to address here.  This has more to do with women who've allowed sex to become perpetually disproportioned relative to its influence / relevance within a romantic relationship.  And what makes this so weird to wrap one's brain around has to do with how the majority of women approach sex overall.

Sexual activity for a woman is 99% of the time rooted in the notion of security.  Even if it's an illusion or fantasy.  

Women participate in intercourse believing for those few minutes that their lover is their "knight in shining armor".  It's a powerfully securing experience for them that promulgates feminine orgasm.  Anatomically, with men "going into" women with their penises, the act itself demonstrates this consensual act.  Otherwise, it's rape / assault.

As such, sex for women is never cheap because their heart (either literally or fantastically) is involved each and every time it occurs.

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But there are those women - no doubt - who're moreso like (some) men regarding sexual perspective.  Hence, it has become a methodology or technique to control / use / abuse, and as such, they themselves see no need for being "protected" / "heart connected" by / to their lover.  Instead, it's simply a pleasurable experience that satiates their horniness for such a time as that.  And this drives them onward, brandishing their seductiveness to whomever they wish to use within their orbit.

To me, this is an ugly description, but especially so if it happens to be your momma.  Yuck.

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In closing, when I worked at Delta State University in 2013, I had the good fortune of befriending one of my employees - to the degree that I circumstantially (conflict of interest) could.  He was an absolutely beautiful (physically & emotionally) pagan man with such a sweet spirit.  I was so fortunate to know him for those fast-moving twelve months.

What truly drew us together was him choosing to (reluctantly) answer my questions about his upbringing there in the Mississippi Delta.  And part of that commentary inevitably centered on his mother.  

This man had no issue labeling her a "whore".  This was shocking to hear, but nevertheless, he described how pervasive her routine was at bedding men throughout the impoverished region during his growing up years.  

I imagine, taking his physical appearance into consideration, that she likely had been equally as attractive in her own right.

After Rob was fired from that institution in September of 2013, Angie and I did share one last meal with my work friend and his wife.  Afterwards, he and I sat out on his patio, and I awkwardly shared my story (to the best of my ability at the time).  

From there, we quickly lost touch as our family returned to the Jackson Metro.

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The Bible addresses the women I'm attempting to describe here.  One of the most famous is actually within the lineage (bloodline) of Jesus (she was a prostitute).  

I know so little about what promulgates women like this, yet I've seen firsthand the tremendous suffering / shame their own sexual brokenness can cause.  It brings me pause, furthering my respect for men who carry this matriarchal legacy with them - day after day.