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

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

Read on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what's at work here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what might bring that about, ultimately?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why?

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

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

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

Jolene Broome

I re-read (& re-pinned a fresher YouTube video within) this very popular JMSS post:  Jackson Mississippi Samson Society: How Lockdowns Combined With The Internet Made You So Sex(uality) Crazed, & Perhaps For The Better. Be Wary of Secondhand Internet from February 2022.

Since the re-pinned video wasn't the original one, I took the time to screen its more recently created (Christian softball) replacement.  And it got me to thinking.

What if Joshua Broome had been a Jolene Broome?  Would her story replicate despite the gender change?

Let's be more specific.  

Jolene, being as bright and "girl next door" physically attractive as her "fraternal twin", Josh, would have had the exact experience - from start to finish - related to become one of the most prolific / well compensated porn stars prior to returning home to her mother - +/-5 years later - in the Carolinas / quietly morphing into a respected personal trainer / being lassoed in by the gospel of Jesus Christ / getting married to a virgin, Christian man (who's NEVER consumed porn) and then becoming the next Kay Arthur / Beth Moore.  

Absolutely not would her story replicate Josh's.  

There'd be no chance she'd be seen as anything other than refuse / a liability, no matter her spiritual testimony.  I suppose certain folks might pity her and her story, but no one would buy into her being "sucked" unassumingly into the porn industry as Josh so doey-eyed, unassumingly capitulates.

For women can most certainly model their sensuality (Victoria's Secret), but they absolutely cannot participate in the creation of pornography sans being labeled a slut - for life.

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Therefore, let's turn our attention back to Josh, porn star turned preacher / Ward Cleaver - father of four boys whose past has never truly seemed to catch up with / stuck to him.

The elephant in the room, of course, is the digital archive.  Thousands upon thousands of hours of straight and gay porn that'll be archived forever online.  Titillating, influencing, explicitly narrating extremely intimate sex acts performed by none other than he himself.  Over and over and over again with hundreds, if not thousands of strangers.  And all of this is simply one click of the mouse away... 

How do you reconcile that in relation to your children / grandchildren having access therein to this part of your past?  And the bigger question is the following:  When Josh's family (church / bio) begins to inquire (demand?) an explanation pertaining to him truly explaining his past life, what's he going to say?  In particular, the sheer quantity of sex partners, thousands of hours of smut highlighting his ability to fuck consenting adults animalistically whilst being filmed / photographed.

But, considering his present pastoral role, how would you, as his parishioner, reconcile that within your own mind?  For I believe much of it, for him personally, comes down to his pseudonym / porn star moniker that he chose to uphold throughout that season of his life.  It must serve as a dividing line of sorts.  Plus, we're all familiar with the theatrics behind the notion of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde - two separate personas neither of which can exist simultaneously.  Perhaps his parishioners would take the same approach.

Here's a thought.

I suppose, if his porn career archive only existed within the analog, perhaps there could be some reconciliation therein, but of course, that's most certainly not the case.  Most everything, particularly within the porn space has been digitized.  And, there's no doubt, his onscreen "work" continues to gain traction in light of his newfound vocation / willingness to narrate his story. 

The bigger question though is to what degree and exactly why his charmingly good looks and seemingly unashamed approach captivate audiences.  If you've screened ex-female porn stars' testimonies (converted to Christianity or otherwise), particularly those who were as entrenched as Josh was within the industry, the primary differentiator comes down to trauma.  Deep seated trauma.

Most female porn stars are victims, from their childhoods onward, of sexual abuse / trafficking.  This sets them up perfectly for the roles they'll play within porn, and even well into their retirement from the industry itself due to the inevitable lifelong shunning / ostracization that'll be handed to them - on a silver platter. 

To look at this clinically, Jolene would be, no doubt, easily recognized as traumatized so long as she's mentally / emotionally sound.

Now then, here's the fact that no one's discussing here.

Josh exacted / inflicted that trauma as the Alpha male.  The stud.  The stallion.  This no doubt eventually resulted in amassing a tremendous amount of shame for this young man, but that could never be compared to being traumatized via sexual assault / coercion under the hot lights of the porn industry.  

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Poor Jolene.  Poor, poor Jolene.  No wonder so many women with her story simply choose to become lesbians after the fact.  

It's no doubt a man's world.  The story of Josh Broome proves it. 

Digital Dicks

Circumcision In Decline Across US - Newsweek

I'm convinced the glamorization (Internet porn) of uncircumcised dicks has played a substantial role in parents choosing to forgo their infant sons going under the knife.  Because Internet porn's consumption is so pervasive, parents today have been exposed to thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of digital dicks of every size, shape, circumcised / uncircumcised. 

I can still recall the first time I saw a digitized photo of an uncircumcised dick (attached to a porn model) via the Internet.  It amounted to one of those, "So that's what that looks like", moments.

I believe in many ways uncircumcised dicks correlate with men who are "wilder, sexier, more sexually virulent".  Sort of like guys with tattoos inked up and down their muscled arms / torsos.  As such, parents who gravitate towards that aura may very well forgo the procedure as a means to christen their little outlaw's future sexual conquests.

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The apostle Paul spoke repeatedly about "circumcision of the heart" in lieu of the original Old Testament sign of the covenant between God and his people, and he did so in order for the Messianic Jews to give their uncircumcised Gentile brethren a break.  

I sure wish Chris Bruno had addressed more of these kinds of pragmatics tied to the penis within his speech (see Lagniappe below) versus staying so very conceptual with his allusions.  

If you think about how special the Israelites were as God's chosen people in tandem with God instructing Abraham (the father of the Israelites) on how to skillfully re-shape the head of the penis surgically to appear visually completely different, and you do this whilst examining the physiological benefits of circumcision, those two things themselves serve as quite compelling rationale.

But if you also consider how God's law indicted men who behaved as animals.  Particularly from the standpoint of sexual behavior.  And therein, how circumcision seemingly "humanizes" the dick (especially whilst flaccid) creating a sharp contrast to one that belongs to any other male mammal.

Why would you not circumcise?    

Lagniappe

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."

Living Out A Marriage Built On Lies / Deceit (HIGH RISK!)

I've been swimming moreso this summer than I've ever swam.  This being the result of my gosh awful foot sprain (no more running!).  Ouch.  We're members of the Y, both of which have pools (two indoor / one outdoor).  

One recent weekend, I couldn't help but notice a fellow sun worshipper / swimmer (young husband / father) stolen away from his lovely fam.  As was usually the case on a Saturday, the pool was hopping with rednecks.  This young white guy was lounging on the pool deck close enough to Rob for me to hear him covertly dialoguing with someone over his pocket computer.  His verbiage was low and muffled, but distinct enough for me to know for certain that he was talking on his phone (sans holding the device up to his head).

I quickly surmised that he was there begrudgingly for an "all Saturday afternoon" outing alongside one other nuclear unit (friends from church / the travel sports team?).  As such, for those few long minutes, both his wife / girlfriend and the children (his?) were splashing around without him, no doubt, all the while curiously wondering why he'd chosen to steal away.   

His female companion eventually sashayed over adroitly in frustration.  And that's when he lied to her about what he'd been up to.

From there, he exited stage left to the outdoor men's restroom.  I have no doubt that another cellphone call ensued only this time, it was behind closed doors.

I strongly suspected he'd been / was now chatting to someone his wife / girlfriend wouldn't approve of.

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When Angie and I were dating (mid '90s), we traveled together to NOLA for some event related to one of her friends from college.  If you've an avid reader of this blog, you know NOLA is where I first longingly gazed upon / consumed full frontal male nudity (photos within Playgirl) when I was a high school student.  

As such,, as a follow-up to what had occurred in 1990, I took it upon myself to at least attempt to view some additional print smut whilst in the Crescent City.  Nonetheless, I had to lie to my girlfriend / future wife in order to maneuver around her constant sweetheart presence (long enough to attempt to peek).  

Had to lie.

Had to.

Lie.

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When I was participating in my third in-person Samson Society spring intensive / retreat in '17, a longtime Samson brother sheepishly admitted to having affairs with 26 women whilst married to his then wife.  He said this with a grin on his face, having not gotten caught even once.  

It wasn't long after that retreat that we unorthodoxically brought our families together for a restaurant meal.  It was undeniable that my brother's primary intent therein was to adjudicate the looks of my wife in steed.  I distinctly recall his decades-long bride being lovely, though my heart broke at her naivety.  

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Mr. Nate Larkin has often triangulated me into friendships with married men who, like myself, experience same-sex attraction.  And some of these have fucked A LOT of other horny men through the years.  What's unique about these guys is the "seasons" of illicitness they tend to fall into, taking their entire adult lives into consideration.  

Too, many of these men have wives that seem not the least interested in knowing the full extent of their husband's unfaithfulness.  Instead, she chooses for it to stay much more conceptual.

This can make for a recipe for disaster.  

Why?

Full disclosure as it pertains to unfaithfulness can do two / three extremely important things instantaneously.  

1.  Protect the wife's health.  If she's privy to her husband's affairs, she can take steps to protect her physical body - both in that moment & on down the road.

2.  Dramatically increase the chances that her husband won't cheat (at least to the same degree) again.

3.  Kickstart / turbocharge her husband's recovery effort. 

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Now, what's the future to look like post full disclosure?  No one knows 'till that particular couple cross that bridge.  And that's why so many men shy away from that journey.  Especially if they're same-sex attracted men.  For the shame over their attractions tend to burden them intrinsically.  Not to mention having to deal with outside (normal) points of view (spouse / family) in respect to Full Disclosure.

On the flip side of this is the straight married man who runs headlong into illicit behavior unchecked, amassing years upon years of downright mind-blowing adulterous behavior (marathon / serial cheater).  These are dual persona husbands / fathers who gravitate towards strip clubs, massage parlors, phone sex and porn as if they have two dicks to contend with.  

When these men finally reach the end of the line with their tortured spouse / family, though they may beg / plead for mercy, everything related to those previous familial relations will be lost forever.

I've seen it with my own two eyes.  Samson Society has delivered that fatalistic point of view to me on several occasions.

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.

Amazing Reunion

I spoke with my freshman roommate (Mississippi State University) yesterday, (2/17) for the first time since last seeing him in '91 (we didn't part ways amiably).  Having acquired his cell phone # from our aforementioned rental neighbors, I placed a call on Valentine's Day (don't read anything into that one, please), leaving Chad a detailed voicemail.

Later that night, he text messaged the following response:  "Rob, got your message.  It made my day.  Looking forward to catching up...I'll text tomorrow, and we can talk?"

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Chad was / is from South MS.  Very small-town South MS.  He was outgoing and kind but also terribly homesick throughout our freshman year.  He'd leave Starkville early every Friday (if not Thursday evening) and return late Sunday evening religiously in order to maintain as close contact with his family as possible.  As such, I was left alone every weekend, and since I had zero friends, it resulted in some depressing interludes (especially during Spring semester when there were no football games to attend).  

Everyone on our dorm hall liked / respected Chad.  He was affable and confident.  Athletically built and driven.  Plus, he had this beautiful smile that could diffuse anyone / any situation effortlessly (& he was almost always smiling).  

I, on the other hand, being the architecture student / Maroon Band member, in many ways, was the complete opposite of Chad.  First and foremost, I was hard pressed to succeed academically without putting in the work required (I was by no means a gifted student).  Architecture school catapults its students into the curriculum thereby making very little room for error.  And that's on top of a higher-level math + Physics I & II (Year One).  Freehand drawing too was a consistent drain, for drawing well (for Rob) takes lots of time / shouldn't be rushed.  As such, each week, we had another detailed drawing assignment to turn in for critique (in front of the entire class).  

Chad gave me a lot of space to buckle down, but often I'd use any "I'm too busy" excuse to simply avoid having to interact with him socially (going out to eat, having any semblance of fun).  And it wasn't like he was a hellraiser by any means (he couldn't afford to be for he was an engineering major).  As a result, eventually, he simply stopped making any effort to include me.

Chad knew I had a quick wit.  Plus, he was very curious to know me from the standpoint of being a city slicker.  And he saw too that I desperately needed friends (like every student) yet wouldn't admit to it (& therefore try / make time for it).  

Therefore, there was this tension or barrier between us.  A barrier that I silently, pridefully reinforced throughout our time together.  Yet, despite this immature tension, he never hesitated to take a stab at pushing through.  Never, 'till the very end of that year, did he completely give up on a potential breakthrough.   

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There were a couple of guys on our dorm hall that had unsurprisingly singled me out as a target for ridicule.  And, whilst looking back, I made it easy for them.  My choice of music (as well as the volume I played it) was so very gay.  

I realize now that Chad's sincere respect towards me worked as a shield from far more severe ridicule than I received.  Specifically, he never acknowledged my uncomfortableness with my body / voice or choose to exploit that in any way (there was never even a hint of mockery).  Instead, he simply chose to be polite / respectful / gentlemanly even.  

I think too that he knew deep down that if I seemed agitated (which was commonplace), it was due to my frustration with myself / the workload more than anyone / anything else. 

He was a very emotionally mature young man.  In fact, he was by far the most emotionally mature male, who happened to be my age, that I'd ever encountered at that stage of my life (late teens).

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Yesterday, Chad and I could have chatted for hours.  We did text message after dinner repeatedly, swapping stories to jointly reminiscence.  There were a lot of lol moments. 

Chad's life, beyond our freshman year, mirrors my own in so many ways. He married right after graduating college, has three kidlets (one of which was a happy surprise), and he resides too within his hometown near his beloved family.  

In closing, I can tell you that he's not given up on breaking through.  I could sense that yesterday throughout our talk.  Chad understandably knows me well.  And he's absolutely ready for me to corroborate his intuition.  That being said, it's brought back a lot of fear as I wonder what might become of this renewed friendship spark if I'm completely transparent as to who I was then / what I've become today.

2025 is going to be an interesting year as it pertains to this unexpected reconnection.  I owe this guy a lot.  Please pray for God's timing as we continue forward for such a time as this as middle-aged men.  

  

It's Been Ten Years Since I First Stepped Foot Into A Samson Society Meeting!

Over the past ten years, I've attended at least one Samson Society meeting a week.  August 2014 at First Baptist Church Jackson (Summit Counseling suite) was when that first meeting (involving Rob) occurred.  I had met with Mr. Don Waller (facilitator of said meeting) on one occasion, and from there, he ushered me into his group (which at the time was the only Samson Society meeting in Mississippi, as far as we knew).

There were +/-9 men in that first-for-Rob meeting, 3 of which (including me) struggled with same-sex attraction.  Having those two other brave men there meant the world to me.

I was in so much emotional pain due to my PTSD (fallout post job loss) that I would have taken any group referral, no matter how outlandish, seriously at that time.

Don was smart to not provide me with any preview of what Samson Society was.  Therefore, I walked in blind, with eyes wide open towards a ministry that seemed as approachable as all the others I'd been invited into (throughout my life).  For at that time, nothing could seemingly stop my emotional hemorrhaging.  I truly had lost all hope and therefore wasn't capable of trusting anyone.    

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As a same-sex attracted man, I can wholeheartedly say that what's kept me involved throughout these ten years has been my overall love for men.  That along with my servant spirit has allowed me to never grow tired / weary of this ministry.  

Regarding the latter, though that phrase, "servant spirit", may sound Titleist, what I'm referring to is my temperament.  In no way does it imply that I'm a "better Christian", more like Jesus or anything of the sort.  

I simply enjoy serving others.  Especially if those others have testicles dangling between their legs.  This makes me a type B personality which is unusual for Samson Society demographically.

As an aside, there are times when other men taunt me for executing kettlebell swings at the Y, citing my need to "wear a cup" (they do appear somewhat risky if they're executed correctly).  More often than not, I'll respond that I'm actually a eunuch.  That immediately shuts them up.

In many ways, I behave as a Biblical eunuch (though I do have my testicles) within this ministry.  Over the years, a lot of Samson brothers have taken advantage of that position.  Whilst looking back, I'm very appreciative of that.  I listen without being able to relate to much of what they've / they're experiencing, and I find that being heard is all they truly need.

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Because cross talk isn't allowed within Samson Society meetings, I 100% of the time feel heard and seen.  Because there's no requirement that you speak on the suggested topic, I feel free to open up as I feel so moved.  In other words, if I want to talk about Butt play, I can.  If I want to talk through how difficult it is to sometimes manage my feelings of shame (within certain circumstances) due to my homosexual desires, I can.  If I want to talk about how beautiful I find it to be to observe men pleasuring themselves (especially when it involves semen), I can. If I want to talk about how fortunate I feel to observe a beautiful man unabashedly peel off their shirts (within an appropriate setting), I can.

I loathe hearing men make some sort of attempt to "speak into my life" within a group setting.  I also despise group exercises that insinuate / relegate camaraderie or tribalism.  To me, this harkens too much into the political / religious / cult realm, feeling fake and forced.

Samson Society resists this emotional posturing outright (based on my observations).  And I love that.  As such, you can hate the guts of everyone in the room but still benefit tremendously by simply being present (& that's why it will never be church).

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Mr. Nate Larkin and his sweet wife are my heroes.  Leading via weakness is where it's at (if you ask them).  He's the antithesis of Dr. James Dobson, Franklin Graham, etc. (men who incessantly critique - for attention and donations - everyone and everything around them).  Nate simply knows how to sit back and enjoy time with other men.  Whether it's his BFF Aaron Porter or Samson guys at the Summit.  I love that about him.

For I too just want to bask in the maleness (enjoying the view) whilst feeling / being seen.  It's an intoxicating experience that powerfully affirms me myself as an image-bearer.  I grow stronger and more self aware as a result.

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In closing, I love to push boundaries.  Especially with guys within Samson.  I like to see how men might react to stories / questions that are tough to hear.  

Because I'm here for my recovery, I'm far less fearful of offending someone (plus taking risks = feeling masculine for Rob).  And sometimes, these "tests" result in some real growth pertaining to our friendship.  Other times, the friendship implodes as a result.  Because of whom I am, I rarely feign sincere loss if the latter occurs.  For I have memory and more often than not, a record of that man via his writings, audio journals, etc.that I can look back on at my discretion (which I often do).

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One final note.  

The men who've attempted to woo me into a sexual relationship have been few and far between within Samson Society.  Remember, it takes two to tango.  That being said, you're always going to have guys who simply do not believe that homosexual activity is sinful, and when they see just how sincere I am (most Samson guys are) pertaining to my / their sexuality, some simply can't seem to help themselves from dipping their toe in the water (to check the temp).  

I think of a lot of this stems from these men desiring a virgin / Samson lay.  And I get that.  

One dude used to ask me repeatedly, "Are you sure you've never had sex with another man?" (hint, hint).

That horny old Catholic fart.  

Here's to another ten years!  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Night He Got Jumped By His Former Youth Pastor / It Took Two To Tango / Was This An Isolated Incident? - Stories That Resonate

It is not getting any easier admitting to my neediness.  Over the past quarter (& then some), my wife has been working 12-hour days (home office), and because she's a night owl, most of her workday has been well past 5 PM.  As such, a typical evening (throughout the workday and weekend) consisted of tiptoeing in order to not disturb her grind.  And it was my privilege to step up in this regard.  

Since she became physically disabled due to her May 2020 stroke, a lot of additional housework naturally fell on my shoulders.  Thanks be to God we live in a manageably scaled home (with a small yard)!  Too, only having one additional kidlet (of three total) at home (who's the epitome of obedience and cooperation) to feed / tend to, helps tremendously.

My wife is quite ambitious and very, very capable as a sole proprietor.  Her clients almost immediately recognize this, and therefore lean into her professional services (she's a CPA).  

But where does that leave our marriage - during ramp up / intensely busy seasons?

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Twice last week, I delved back into gay porn.  And of note is how I hit repeat regarding one video I stumbled across in particular (this is very rare for me to do).  The models within this particular vignette were having some passionately dramatic sex, and I mean passionate with a capital P.  In fact, there was more emphasis therein than on your typical hyper close-up genitalia shots.  It felt more like a Hallmark version of Colt Studio than anything else.

But what was truly relevant was the following.  It felt like a porn video made exactly for me for such a time as that / this.

Thursday, (4/11) I began to reckon with just how emotionally needy I truly am at this time, having endured this last quarter.  

My wife and I went out to eat Saturday night at a fairly new restaurant close to our abode.  It was fantastic to steal away as such!  But man, we have a long way to go pertaining to regaining our regularly scheduled marital footing, and it was apparent that neither of us wanted to admit to this.

Nonetheless, both of us realize that marriage is seasonal, and that there'll always be emotional connection pauses that occur, circumstances being whatever they may be.  

They are so not fun though, and arguably leave us both vulnerable to outside forces / temptations.

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Years ago, I attended a Samson Society story retreat over a weekend.  This was my second story retreat, and I was happy to once again support my old friend, Mr. Chris Inman, therein.  A fellow attendee shared a "story of shame" that Saturday afternoon involving his former youth pastor jumping him late one night.

Apparently, this story retreat attendee had (post high school) further befriended, as an adult, his youth pastor.  As such, the youth pastor had divulged his struggle with same-sex attraction (he was single) to this now married with multiple small children (with another on the way) man. 

That friendship naturally matured and continued to warrant time together, and during this particular then recent juncture, the two men were sleeping over at the youth pastor's place.  And that's where the unexpected sexual advance occurred.  

As a result, the younger man immediately fled the scene.  The understandable reactional stress motivated him then to reach out to his parents for support.  Frustratingly, they (particularly his mother) felt their son was overreacting, taking into account the tenured friendship as well as the youth pastor friend's spotless platonic / parochial record.  

At the conclusion of this tale, all I clearly remember is this dude was tremendously angry.  Tremendously angry.  At both his former youth pastor friend / mentor as well as his parents (combined with the world at large).  

I've thought about that story for years and years.  I attempted to follow up with the guy not long after the retreat was over in order to hopefully understand / flesh out more details, but to no avail.  He was absolutely not interested in talking to same-sex attracted Rob (can you blame him?).

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Last summer, a new potential friend (completely unaffiliated with Samson Society) literally fell out of the sky into my sphere of influence.  My aforementioned younger daughter and I had volunteered for a Saturday mission trip (with our church) to Greenwood.  This new friend volunteered too in spite of his family not being a member of our congregation.  If you've read previous blog posts, hearing of this guy is old news.

What makes this new friend so special to Rob is twofold:

1.  His physical presence is intimidating.  This coupled with his reserved persona only add to his exceedingly foreboding posture.  It's important to know that my masculine archetype is very much in line with physical attributes that telegraph the notion of "mysterious threat".  I have no idea why that is.  I've just learned to roll with it.

2.  I'm his first true "big city" (urban / suburban) friend outside of his extended family.  Hence, I want to serve him well as such, being mindful of my influence.

He and I are geared up for around-the-bend warmer days.  Days where we can take our girls swimming, kayaking, exploring the Mississippi out-of-doors.  These are anticipated future memories that engender me with sizable opportunities to BE SEEN whilst seeing him vulnerably.  

I cannot emphasize enough how restorative these experiences will be to my soul.  Our friendship was so embryonic last summer that what few we had like these felt almost surreal - for both of us - in and of themselves.  Mostly due to how unexpectedly initial common ground we found both of ourselves enjoying.  As such, summer 2024 awaits...

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The questions before I close.

-  Will I ever truly come to understand how effectively educated I've become via Samson Society in terms of healthy (modeled & otherwise) male-to-male relationships?

-  By receiving the raw emotion (positive or negative) from another Samson guy, in light of his experience with the unexpected, does this exposure qualify as truly vicarious or is it simply me being a novel spectator?  Furthermore, what constitutes either side of that experiential equation?  

-  Knowing that my new local friend isn't a Samson guy, will that insure, to some degree, the longevity of our friendship (less competition / him not being a pervert as I am)?  

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Samson Society emphasizes recovery, and it most certainly should.  But, an indirect benefit, is the opportunity to become immensely respectful of brotherly love male friendship - both inside & outside of this community.  Regardless, those couplings truly are supernatural - especially here at middle-age.  And, of course, they're absolutely just as, if not moreso, supportive therein within their own unique way.

Thanks be to God for men, image-bearers of the living God.  

     

Mutilated Genitalia (Certification Of Merit?)

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

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

Let me provide some commentary regarding that last sentence.

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

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

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

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Fast forward to 2024.

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

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

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

So, what's behind this change?

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

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

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

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

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

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

I have and it's absolutely shocking to witness.

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

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Why would I ask this question?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Computational failure.  That's what it feels like.  

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

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

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

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

What exactly is the Samson Society landscape?

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

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

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

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

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

We'll call her Gina.

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

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

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

Why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why?

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