Weekly meetings available to you are as follows:

Tuesday at 6:30 PM, Truitt Baptist Church - Pearl. Call Matt Flint at (601) 260-8518 or email him at matthewflint.makes@gmail.com.

Wednesday at 6:00 PM, First Baptist Church Jackson - Summit Counseling Suite - 431 North State St. Jackson. Call Don Waller at 601-946-1290 or email him at don@wallerbros.com.

Monday at 6:30 PM , Vertical Church - 521 Gluckstadt Road Madison, MS 39110. Mr. Roane Hunter, facilitator, LifeWorks Counseling.

Sunday night at 6:00 PM, Grace Crossing Baptist Church - 598 Yandell Rd. Canton. Call Joe McCalman at 769-567-6195 or email him at cookandnoonie@gmail.com.


Showing posts with label Shame. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shame. Show all posts

Thursday, October 2, 2025

A Beautiful (Relatively Young) Man's Life Completely Derailed. (Shame Management)

Today I had the privilege of lunching with one of the most physically beautiful men I've yet (so far within these 53 years) to have the privilege to befriend.  And, I'm pleased to say as well that his persona came / comes across as quite likable in kind.

When I was in high school, I found myself transfixed by one particular fellow classmate (male).  He was no doubt the most athletic / athletically built young man within our +/-45-member troupe.  Whenever Tom would be within "visual range", I would have to - very intentionally - stop gazing in his general direction.  For everything about this young man simply looked distinctly ideal in regard to Rob's ultimate fantasy man.  

What was ironic regarding these consistently roulette wheel run-ins (our private high school was NOT large) was this very Adonis ended up seated directly across from me within my first college class.  

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Physical beauty can spell trouble for individuals who're prone to exploit the inevitable attention (feed their egos) for their own gain / pleasure.  My former classmate, Tom, may have experienced this (he & I, by no means, stayed in touch), but regarding my new friend from lunch today, there's absolutely no doubt.  And he very humbly admitted to this.

According to my new friend, playing college football brought opportunities to party alongside.  And with partying (at age 20) came boozing.  Boozing that tapped into a genetic predisposition (lengthy ancestral line) to become addicted.  And that addiction almost completely destroyed him and his future.  I knew just enough of this prior to our lunch to be intrigued (which served as a catalyst for organizing our juncture), but I had no idea of the severity therein.  Ultimately, in tandem with him hitting rock bottom, had it not been for the kindness of an aunt, he'd be dead.

Listen to me when I tell you this, dear reader.  If you saw this beautiful man on the street, you'd NEVER SUSPECT him having lived out this wreckage of a life.  Never.  And speaking of the word never...

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I've never had an experience like this.  Sitting there with this incredibly hot guy and hearing the highlights of his derailment tale absolutely shook me to the core.  And let me be blunt, this derailment altered - for the worse - the course of his life forever.  Opportunity(ies) torched.  A future life lived on Easy Street torpedoed.

It's been six years since my new friend has drunk alcohol.  Today, he's married with numerous stepchildren, meekly providing financial support via a below average pay managerial position at a local nonprofit.  

I wept for my - only half-smiled once during our lunch - new friend as I made my way back to my office.  And, man oh man, what a gorgeous smile he has.  

In closing, he shared with me how he and his fam were slated to head out tomorrow, (10/3) for a fall break vaca.  Their destination?  A very isolated, modest beachfront property owned by a hospitable family member.

I couldn't help but wonder if said location wasn't - at least to some degree - selected out of shame management. 

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This world of woe is so very difficult to reckon with, taking stories like his into consideration.  Please pray for me going forward as I rub shoulders with my new friend.  I feel so privileged to know him now as I didn't know him before despite the time it will take for me to process his story.  Here's the lesson:  Over the top physical / sexual attractiveness can no doubt be exploited by our Enemy.  Particularly in a world that celebrates / elevates these to the degree that we do.  Satan's end goal will always be to kill, steal & destroy using first & foremost the status quo against us coupled with our naivety regarding our own vulnerability. 

We are all sheep.  Some of us far more attractive sheep than the rest, but there's no changing the fact that we're still dumbass sheep.  Never forget how vulnerable therein you truly are.


Sunday, September 21, 2025

Why Are There So Many Churches In Mississippi?

I had the privilege to attend a baptismal service this AM, and it was a delight to witness.  There were four new converts to Christianity that were baptized:  my female (professional) friend who's around 35 years of age, a preadolescent boy, a late 20s female and early 30s male.  Both of the women were relatively new moms, each married (their husbands were present, one of which was baptized).  All four were baptized out of doors in a "horse trough" adjacent to the modest churchhouse. 

And speaking of the churchhouse, it was a dump.  Picture a prefabricated metal building with an outdated (color) brick veneer front facade.  If I had to guess, it was erected / constructed sometime in the '70s or '80s perhaps as a small flooring showroom or somesuch.  The Jackson Metro area this church resides in is zoned industrial, but as is often the case in Mississippi, when a building sits vacant within these enclaves for any length of time, owners will do just about anything to sell (in order to avoid the continual burden of property taxes).  But, in order to make a sale palatable to church bodies, zoning laws must either be "updated" or exemptions granted.   

The parishioners present were 98% white, and there were around fifty overall in attendance.  And yes, you're correct to assume that the pastor was bi-vocational, and what a sweet, kindhearted white man this was!

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One of my daughters is slated to be baptized prior to the end of '25.  The church that she's a member of is part of a denomination that's well represented in Mississippi, and the church itself (member count) is likely 15-20 times larger than the church I attended this AM.

If you were to chronicle all of the churches in Mississippi today, 90% of them would fall in between these two extremes, and the remaining few would consist of a very small quantity of multi-site mega churches and the ever fluid collection of house churches.

Churches, churches, churches.  They're everywhere in Mississippi, but the vast majority, I believe, are best represented via the one I spent two hours in this AM.  Why?

Shame.

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Mississippi is a state overflowing with shame-filled folks.  Some of that shame is rooted in simply being Mississippians, but the vast majority of it finds its origins in individuals' histories.  

A local friend of mine has parents who both divorced (from their first spouses) prior to marrying each other / reproducing.  These folks are highly educated / intelligent Christians who're VERY WELL ESTABLISHED / INFLUENTIAL within their (my) community (well loved by all who come in fortunate contact with them).  Their modus operandi for dealing with the shame from those initial (obviously very short-lived) divorces was to bury it, therefore they never divulged it to their children (& somehow they strong-armed their families to do the same).  

Isn't that weird?  Perhaps.  But, in many ways, I kinda think they were wise.  For their children / grandchildren have excelled.

Nonetheless, if you were to meet these wonderful Christian people, you'd NO IDEA they had any shame surrounding that portion of their individual histories whatsoever.

But they're the exception.

Almost everyone else in the Magnolia State gets seriously mired down in the deep seated collateral damage that coincides with regrettable portions of their lives.  It's simply baked into our humanity. 

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My wife and I have worked hard to teach our kidlets about the permanency / weight of stupidity (stupid is a verb) and how it can seemingly forever undermine one's sense of self worth.  And mostly this teaching has been via our commitment to each other / them through their impressionable childhoods.  

For we wouldn't mind them getting baptized in the church I attended this AM, but only if they're choosing to do so is well justified.  

Tiny, dumpy churches mostly exist for deeply ashamed Mississippians.  These folks will forgo (for themselves & their dependents) the bountiful resources available to them within larger, more established (denominatory) churches simply due to the fact that they're convinced that they're too dirty to belong / feel comfortable there.

Let me repeat that:

Tiny, dumpy churches mostly exist for deeply ashamed Mississippians.  These folks will forgo (for themselves & their dependents) the bountiful resources available to them within larger, more established (denominatory) churches simply due to the fact that they're convinced that they're too dirty to belong / feel comfortable there.

Think of it this way.  It's like white people thinking like black people when it comes to their church home.  

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In conclusion, I wonder if this same negative, shame-filled outlook is what motivates pastors (like the one who officiated this morning's baptismal service) to forgo attending seminary (or at times, any form of higher education for that matter) in light of simply "winging it" from their homely pulpits.  I mean, it's not like these men are dumbasses.  If you're going to do any form of preaching / pastoring, you certainly can't be low intelligence.  Therefore, seminary / higher ed is certainly an option for them, yet they choose to not move in that direction.

Therefore, absolutely, these pastors can absolutely be collaterally damaged.  Seriously damaged.  I've seen it (some of these men are involved in Samson Society).  

Shame is the second most powerful force on planet Earth.  Masculinity is the first.  How different Mississippi would look if we could simply get a grip on our shame.

Sunday, September 14, 2025

The Very Hard Work Of Fathering Myself

The most difficult first step in learning to father yourself is to admit you must take on this position.  In other words, one must come to grips with the fact that there ain't no older male (bio or otherwise) that's going to step up on your behalf.  And that's depressing to process.  Especially if you're deeply desiring to be fathered / are cognizant of the fact of the benefits therein.  

And, of course, when it comes to being fathered, time is of essence.  Otherwise, serious missteps may very well result as you inevitably mature forward (physically, at least).  

What's even more depressing to process is when you actually have a bio father that's present in your life + you're his only child, and still, no (decidedly intentional) fathering occurs. 

To summarize, fathering or being fathered is having an older male come alongside with the intention of demonstrating firsthand disciplined techniques / methodologies for bettering oneself.  And this bettering can fall into categories of physical, emotional, spiritual.  But here's the kicker:  this man is demonstrating in line with both his recognition and intimate knowledge of the younger man.

One quick sidetone before I get into the meat of this post.  When I was in middle school (a true low point - as it is for so many boys - in my boyhood), my mom was a part-time bookkeeper at an aerobics studio (it was the '80s) in northeast Jackson.  The studio had two sizable workout rooms (cut pile peachy / pink-colored carpet!), one of which was utilized for Shotokan karate classes twice weekly.  My best friend & me were initial students of this class, and our Sensei, Mr. Terry V., was the most respectful, kindhearted father figure (outside of my dad) I'd known up to that time.  And it's important to know that Mr. V. advocated for Rob via encouragement and opportunity.  He was such the masculine asset for such a disheartening time as that. 

Nevertheless, a neighborhood bully (his mom also worked at the studio) showed up one day, and before I knew it, both he and his best friend (who was just as intimidating) became regular students.  Every opportunity Scott had to posture / mock me, he seized, therefore it didn't take long for me to quit outright.  

What's truly unfortunate about this outcome has to do with the absence of any patriarchal involvement.  For my dad had to have been privy to the 12 months+ that I'd invested in my studies of Shotokan karate (I believe I was a green belt when I chose to quit).  Yet, he never got involved in attempting to help me deal with this thorny situation.  Neither by dialoguing with my Sensei, the bully's parents (who were our backdoor neighbors) or me.  Instead, it was as if I didn't have a dad at all.

I feel it's important to include that tale in light of how influential Mr. Terry V. truly was in my life.  Until he no longer was.  

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For Rob, even at an early age, I knew that my dad simply wasn't capable of fathering me (or any other child) holistically.  He was understandably emotionally immature when he became my dad (age 19) first & foremost.  But moreso as a result of his youth for my dad was never fathered himself.  Instead, he was reared by a violent drunk 'till that monster (thankfully) died from lung cancer immediately prior to my father reaching adolescence.  

As such, my dad had two obstacles he was up against.  

1.  The vacuum created by not being fathered himself
2.  The immense trauma that resulted directly from his own father's physical / emotional abuse

In essence, #1 drove his ignorance while #2 drove his fear (of treating his own son as he was treated).

Thankfully, my father was a teetotaler.  Therefore, booze never played into how he behaved within our household.  

Now, let me insert one truth here.  My father very much did choose to father me in regard to making church attendance a priority (for our family).  And not just worship services but Bible study.  This especially became the case as I approached my upper elementary school years and beyond.  For both of my parents had quite the appetites, at this stage in their lives, for high quality spiritual food.  As such, First Baptist Church Jackson served as their buffet. 

He also made a concerted effort to incorporate Bible study into a routine within our home, though in hindsight, all it truly amounted to was me reading scripture (to my parents) for a few minutes before bedtime.

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One of the most telling episodes that I had with my dad as an adult (within a clinical setting) resulted in him attempting to defend his position as a "thoroughbred fathering father" due to his allegiance / admiration for Dr. James Dobson (a massively influential Christian media persona in the '80s).  I vividly recall him faithfully listening to Dobson's radio show combined with purchasing most, if not all, of his many books.  

I suppose this did qualify my dad to receive an "A" for effort.  But as you know, if you're unable / unwilling to apply helpful commentary to your own way of doing things, there's likely a lot going on under the surface that's needing to be addressed. 

Therefore, I believe he knew, deep down, just how out of his league he truly was.  I just wish he'd admitted (or at least hinted) to it from the get go instead of allowing his ego to elevate himself "respectfully".  

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To expound on what I said earlier:

Fathering is essentially modeling / demonstrating what a man is capable of so long as he's disciplined and confident.  

Christian fathering is essentially modeling / demonstrating what a man is capable of doing, for Christ, so long as he's disciplined and confident in what he believes as a Christ follower.  

I was looking for the latter, for as I stated in my post titled "Being A Contrarian", the gospel lassoed me in around age 12.

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I began taking baby steps towards fathering myself by committing to a strength training regimen during my 5th (& last) year of architecture school.  At the time, I was in my early 20s, and all I had access to was beginner (youth) equipment (that had been purchased at Service Merchandise when I was in high school).  

How was this fathering myself, exactly?

Firstly, it's important to note that I was officially crossing over into emotional / spiritual manhood at this stage of my life.  Had that not been the case, there would not have been any means for me to take these initial fathering-myself steps.

Through some concentrated research and study (I found a book at Barnes & Noble), I devised a plan.  From there, I took it one day at a time.  Weeks became months, and before I knew it, I was seeing my body become more muscular (thanks too to my metabolism also slowing down around this same time).  

I remember my mom's BFF coming by my parents' abode to drop something off (where I was living during 5th year), and me answering the door shirtless.  Seeing her reaction (& her later relaying her admiration of my hard work to my mom) did wonders for my confidence.   

Fast forward to today.  When I'm at the Y strength training, and I see a father / son duo working together to lift, I always let the father know how fortunate his son is to have this kind of oversight / hands-on attention.

So, you might be asking how strength training syncs with Christian fathering.  The body is the temple of the Holy Spirit.  Taking care of that temple is in line with God's will.  And specifically for me, with all my issues with THE VOID, I especially need(ed) to invest, at the very least, in the part of myself that I could see (reflection).

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Fathering myself really kicked into high gear when I had the privilege of stepping into Samson Society back in 2014.  For the intentionality of attending meetings / after meetings and engaging one-on-one with so many in-crisis men demonstrated my commitment to my faith as well as my love for myself to my younger (internal) self each and every week.     

Decades prior to this, I had jumped at any chance presented to me to be included within Bible studies for young(er) men.  And I did this in hopes of having the opportunity to be seen (I never really was either due to my lack of confidence or the unwillingness of my peers to look hard).  

But even outside of the spiritual, when opportunity knocked for me to be challenged (leadership) via roles that would provide an opportunity to demonstrate Christ-likeness, I've almost always jumped at the chance.

And when you're a younger man, whether it's engaging within the recovery community or taking on a leadership role that's a bit over your head, the emotional weightiness can truly be taxing.  For how you choose to present yourself within these roles will impact others, and in turn, they'll have the opportunity to adjudicate what they see in you (& oftentimes let you know).

And this is really where the rubber meets the road when it comes to fathering yourself.  Do you have the chutzpah to face the masses (visible or invisible) - in whatever capacity you're called to - sans losing sight of what the true motivation is behind the course that you've charted?

If so, not only will you make a lasting impact on yourself, but you'll eventually successfully bypass the disadvantaged state of having not been fathered.

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One final tale:

Today, I relish taking showers in locker rooms (fitness centers), but this is only due to me being very intentional, through the years, regarding overcoming my shame / anxiety surrounding these spaces.  And that took some tremendous fathering of myself, for locker rooms represented me feeling like an outcast or freak (going back to 7th grade PE class).  

All that might sound easy and simplistic within those few sentences but it by no means was.

When you're a little tyke and you're made to feel as if you don't belong (or aren't safe) with other boys within a designated masculine space, it plants deep seated feelings of doubt regarding your worth / value as a male into your heart.

Think of having to play "Shirts & Skins" each and every day during 7th grade PE class, and always being the last one chosen for a team due to your pathetic basketball playing skills.  And, in kind, feeling so very ashamed doing so whilst shirtless (body embarrassment).

Deep seated feelings of doubt regarding one's worth, planted in middle school, leave a boy who's out of luck in the intentionally being-fathered camp, in a tough, tough spot and that was me in a nutshell.

In many ways, it takes a miracle to father oneself effectively, but I would argue, the deeper the wounds, the greater the motivation to do the relentless, ongoing work.




Saturday, September 6, 2025

My Smoking Hot Friendboy / Brother + The Swimmer Angel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's some weird shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was seen, and I mean really seen.

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

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

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

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

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

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Why?

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

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

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

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

Thursday, August 14, 2025

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.

Sunday, March 30, 2025

Divorce Prejudice

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

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

Why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was their marriage ever the same?  No.  

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

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

Tuesday, February 18, 2025

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.  

  

Wednesday, January 1, 2025

Ready To Listen? Ready To Be Heard? If So, Samson Society Might Just Be For You In 2025.

Mr. Nate Larkin has been hosting one of the (5-6 per week) "newcomer meetings" for quite a while now.  These meetings serve as a clearinghouse for men who're interested in joining Samson Society (gaining access to virtual meetings / Slack, etc.), and it's assumed they've never attended an in-person Samson meeting (i.e. they're very green).  

In essence, newcomers are able to reserve a seat at (again, 5-6 offered per week) upcoming newcomers' meetings on the homepage of www.samsonsociety.com.  From there, they receive an email invitation which gives them access at the set day / time of their scheduled meeting.  

I had the privilege to officially take the reins of Nate's regularly hosted newcomers' meeting this past Saturday, (12/28) in response to Nate's wife's request to be able to spend the full Saturday(s) with him going forward.  It was a whole lot of fun.

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The newcomers' meeting firstly, in my mind, needs to provide these men - who're brave enough to step up - with a concise description of what exactly Samson Society is and how it works.  And these newcomer meeting's foundations laid therein already does bring that to bare.  How so?  There's a specific newcomers' meeting slide deck that provides a one-to-one overview of a standard format Samson meeting.  As such, it's expected that me as the host, breeze through these at some point during the hour.  Besides that, what I also observed Mr. Nate Larkin relay were specific details as to his journey within 12-steps groups and how he'd attempted to overlay many of those attributes in light of his desire to foster similarly positive experiences within Samson Society (a personal justification / origin story of the Samson ethos).  

Therefore, there's a template here, but in regard to Nate's position as founder, he also brought so much firsthand narrative to the table.

But one truth that I keep coming back to is how - within a standard format meeting - guys essentially are given the opportunity / expectation to both listen intently whilst talking openly themselves sans any feedback.  This, to me, is what sets Samson Society apart.

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We are a culture built on individualism.  Individualism that's customizable to the nth degree.  This western culture approach has grown out of another cultural lynchpin.  That being unending criticism - from every side.  We westerners spend an enormous amount of energy / time critiquing everything around us.  And this is an outgrowth of our being image bearers.  For God offers the ultimate critique as he adjudicates our hearts with the deepest and most resolute sincerity.  

Because of this, we hide an awful lot of ourselves or choose to live separate lives depending on the surroundings we might find ourselves within.  And this is an inevitability, though as we age, I do believe there can / should be less and less of this default shielding.

Therefore, for those of us who find the results of these various approaches stilting, debilitating, suffocating, genuinely exhausting, I offer you Samson Society.  

And no, you don't have to have issues with anything especially compulsory or addictive to qualify.    
  

Tuesday, December 24, 2024

Do You Fear God?

When I began to realize how deliberately indulging lust was (at the precipice of middle school), this is when I began to truly fear God.  Up until then, I had no real reason to fear him, though I did believe he existed and that our world had been / continued to be ordered via his will.  

My bio father was an enforcer of rules within our home, though most of those were unspoken expectations that simply centered around me being obedient to my parents' commands (sans any sardonic commentary).  As I aged, he understandably pulled back therein (in proportion to my teenage emotional retreat), becoming more and more distant as any sort of active guidepost / leader within my life (he was consistently present / reliably routine). 

Therefore eventually, my then new fear of God also morphed into need.  That being direction for not only managing my depravity but for my life overall.  For my penchant for lust was only ramping up / becoming more pervasive as a go-to private entertainment escape.

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We've had the good fortune to spend some quality time with new friends over the holidays.  One of the distinct differences that I've clued into therein is the lack of God fear within these lovely human beings.  And as a Christian, this is hard for me to relate to.  For I begin wondering, am I more depraved than most, or is this simply tied to me attempting to be God (judge) with or without any true accuracy (or some combination therein)?

I read my Bible regularly.  I pray regularly.  I enjoy both of these things immensely.  Right now, I'm reading through the book of Ezekiel.  In fact, I just finished chapter 23.  If you've never read Ezekiel 23, it's essentially a brutally descriptive / explicitly pornographic allegory of two people groups / physical places and God's utter disgust with their chronic debauchery (lack of fear).  

In tandem with this, I'm undergoing some very intense personal recovery work right here during the holidays.  Recovery work inspired by some of Mr. Andrew Bauman's teachings at the '24 Samson Summit.

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In closing, church is really important to me as well.  Why?  Because of its representation as Christ's bride combined with all the good (that I've experienced) from being involved within a local body of believers.  Much of the book of Acts focuses on the early Christian church.  If you're a Bible-loving Christian, wouldn't you work hard to find / invest within a local church (even if you're single) that serves you / allows you to serve others well?

I'm certainly not anymore depraved than the average Joe, but I am much more prone to ruminate on this part of myself (I have to believe).  

At times, a deep-seated sense of worthlessness has taken root, over the years, as a result of this.  

Were I less inclined to follow This Path, I don't believe fear would ever reside within the same sentence as God, therefore I'm very much at peace with remembering my need for salvation and, in turn, how deliberately rebellious my heart can be as any sort of almanac for my life.  

Lagniappe:

Friday, September 20, 2024

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

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

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

Why?

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

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

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

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

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So how do I put a stop to this?

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


Sunday, August 25, 2024

Jesus Loves Boobs

Northpark Mall in Ridgeland, MS was such the petri dish of maturation throughout my teenage years.  I spent hours upon hours there from ages 15-19 frying chicken at Chick-A-Fil on the second floor (right down from Dillard's).  The years were 1988-1991, and at that time, this particular MS mall was almost at its heyday.   

Spencer Gifts was downstairs from the Chick during this initial Northpark era, and this is where I began to discreetly obtain a collection of sexy greeting cards / calendars.  The photos therein were of muscular, handsome men posing / being photographed in order to capture / capitalize on their masculine beauty.  It was these photos that served as Rob's sexual fantasy reserve.  

Today, Spencer Gifts is located within an adjacent wing of Northpark Mall.  I was reminded of this Wednesday, (8/21) whilst walking down memory lane (& returning some clothes to Dillard's).  

On the Spencer Gifts' storefront was a T-shirt design that read "I Love Boobs!" (the word "Love" was a heart symbol).

I immediately was taken aback (which was the whole point of the display) for I couldn't imagine such a storefront during the late 1980s.  

But hey, this is 2024.

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When I run, I almost always wear a tank top.  I do this because it's a shirt that I wrestled mightily with wearing years prior.  Mucho shame had to be overcome.  But now, I find them to be my go-to for the gym, running. They're comfortable and a reminder of the importance of milestoning small victories.   

Our 'hood is filled with retirees, and they're out and about constantly walking their dogs.  One man (former runner) I encounter often (whilst exiting / re-entering our 'hood from a 5K run).  Years ago, I noticed how subtlety taken aback this mid 60s retiree reacts whenever I raise one of my arms (as if to scratch my head / wipe my eyes / point at a bird passing over) if and when we've paused to chat. For when I do this, he can't help but be exposed to / get a clear view of the defined / sculpted muscle mass within my shoulders / upper arms.  

My grandfather (dad's dad) died when my father was 9-years-old.  He was a chain smoker and was dead in his early 40s from lung cancer.  If you look at photos of the man, you can clearly see the broadness of his shoulders.  Bizarrely, he was +/-20 years younger than his oldest brother, therefore all of his siblings (he had three older brothers) looked more like grey-templed uncles than siblings.

As I began to strength train during my mid-30s (I'm in my early 50s today), I would have guys comment to me regarding my shoulders / upper arms and how muscular they were becoming.  I would immediately dismiss this affirmation on the surface, despite my knowing that it was absolutely in line with my Turner genetics.

My father's youngest brother (who was one of three of his brothers), being just one generation away from Joe Ware Turner, Sr. (my long since lung cancer deceased grandfather) absolutely received that same stocky upper-body build.  

And now there's me (along with one of my cousins).  

There's beauty there.  Plain & simple.  Not to everyone, mind you.  But certainly, to some.

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At Lakeside Pres, Pastor Tyson has been slowly marching us through the gospel of Matthew Sunday after Sunday after Sunday.  We're now close to wrapping it up, therefore he recently preached on Jesus being anointed via perfumed oil via his friendgirl Mary.  If you've never read the passage (chapter 26), I'd encourage you to do so.  

Never would a Protestant pastor insinuate the sensuousness of this tale, but if you read it from that point of view, it's undeniable.

Did Jesus appreciate the breasts of Mary as they brushed against him during this ritual?  Was his reaction therein what perpetuated the callous criticism of the whole affair?  Did he feel his cock getting erect as the liquid flowed from the alabaster flask?  

He had to have been so very pleased with himself for creating breasts to begin with as her bosom brushed his upper body throughout this whole scandalous / selfless affair.  

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(Some) Boobs really are beautiful.  

We've been so pleased to see a tenured couple recently returned to our church, and both have lost substantial weight whilst away.  As a result, the wife's breasts are decidedly smaller.

When they were members years prior, she'd often wear attire that "celebrated" her beautiful boobs.  I can remember on several occasions being stunned by her Sunday morning look.  

I knew her husband well enough to know that he was 100% onboard with her ecclesiastical seductiveness.

He maybe attended one or two Samson meetings overall (when I facilitated an in-person meeting there at the church).

It was eye opening to say the least.

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As Christian men who are looking for help with compulsive sexual sin, so many parachurch ministries decry:  "Look Away!  Look Away!  Look Away!"

I'm not so sure this is truly the most reliable long-term solution.  

Jesus loves boobs.  He created each pair with utmost attention to detail.  Can we not lean into his example by learning to appreciate sans capitulating to default lust?  

Tuesday, January 16, 2024

Jesus January - Mid Month Update

Back in December, we had an all-together lunch with some friends whose daughter and son are longstanding friends (former schoolmates) of our children.  Christmas was around the corner, therefore everyone was in the holiday spirit, anticipating the annual celebration with all its traditions and (inevitable) headaches.  This couple had surprisingly (to us) been visiting our church, and as such, once we realized this, saw fit to make a concerted effort to recognize this exciting move via breaking bread together.

Not long into our lunch, the husband of this fantastic couple "laid bare" / admitted to his deep admiration for the band KISS.  I was intrigued.  I'd only heard of one other middle-aged guy similarly enthralled by the "Knights In Satan's Service", and again he too was a parent of our daughters' friends.

I sat there between bites of my Italian entree peering at photos (on his pocket computer) of he and his wife posing alongside KISS' bandmembers (backstage).  He went on to proudly exclaim that he'd seen the band in concert almost 40 times over the decades.  And to top it off, his two KISS pinball machines and signed guitars were some of his most prized possessions.

I asked when and how his passion for KISS originated.  His detailed answer left me unsurprised.  For as I'd assumed, it had taken root smack dab in the middle of his teenage years.

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It's been 15+ days since I've self-pleasured (masturbated).  I'm elated that my "Jesus January" fast is holding steady.  

Why am I doing this?

Though sexual fantasy / gay porn has long since been banished from my self-pleasure routine (by God's grace), I felt deeply convicted to come up with some cadence to briefly pause an established bi- (if not more) weekly trend.  My thinking was as follows:  how else might I conveniently learn via abstinence if I didn't intentionally pull back?

What's struck me the most is how much LESS shame I feel overall.  It's as if boyRob (who exists within my mind) is so very proud of manRob for acting as he has over the past two weeks.  In other words, my boyhood self is who's been bearing the brunt of the shame fallout relative to self-pleasure.  Even if I'm NOT lusting whilst doing so, shame is still manifesting itself as a result.  Why?

As an aside, keep in mind that my wife isn't interested in nurturing the sexual side of our marriage, and she hasn't been since becoming disabled in May of '20.  This realization has never bothered me (& it still doesn't).  In fact, I've often been deeply grateful to have self-pleasure techniques (originating from my boyhood) to fall back on.

Nonetheless, I'm finding - via Jesus January - that the boy inside hasn't been justly served via this laissez faire approach to manRob pulling on his wiener.

Let me repeat that.

Nonetheless, I'm finding - via Jesus January - that the boy inside hasn't been justly served via this laissez faire approach to manRob pulling on his wiener.

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In closing let's discuss pragmatics.  For Rob, lust-free masturbation experiences aren't at all extemporaneous affairs.  Especially if there's been little down time since the previous experience.  

As such, precious time / energy is relegated, and when you take habitual sessions into account, a sizable amount of time / energy (which could be allocated elsewhere) is utilized.

Of course, boyRob is keenly aware of this.  Particularly from the standpoint of how he sees himself TODAY as a 51-year-old man.

Throughout this life, he adjudicates his older self constantly, taking into account where / how / how much energy / resources are allocated across the entire spectrum of my / his adult life.  As such, it's boyRob who's kept me from becoming fanatical (as an adult) regarding any and all childhood passions that weren't deemed appropriate relative to my maturity (physical / emotional age) as a man.  But the exception to all of this has been self-pleasure.  For it's the one thing manRob has rebelled with.

But I've never realized just how disrespectful this undisciplined habit has been to boyRob 'till this farcical "Jesus January" idea came to fruition.  

So, the question now comes down to this:  What does he need from me in order to establish the respect I absolutely do wish to earn from him in regards to self-pleasure?  

I have no intentions of stopping the physical act of masturbation outright, but I can, most certainly, be more intentional about how often and under what circumstances I do this going forward.

Lastly, can I actually successfully abstain from self-pleasure for another 16 days?

We'll just have to wait and see.

Tuesday, August 29, 2023

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.


Wednesday, July 5, 2023

Advocating For Your Children (Including The Dunces / Queers)

What does it mean to be an advocate?

This is a complicated ask.

Advocacy isn't merely voting in favor of another person.  It's actually using your intelligence to understand that person firstly (to the best of your ability) prior to supporting them (customized) therein.  This is a time-consuming process that requires your complete focus on someone other than yourself.

To do this (advocacy) well, you cannot establish yourself as more (better) smart, more (better) straight, more (better) anything.  Otherwise, true advocacy cannot occur.  For advocacy is the purest form of sacrificial love between two human beings.  

In summary, advocacy is a bottom-up support.  It's attempting to elevate another person relative to their value TOWARDS THEMSELVES.  From there, others around them (hopefully) buy into this (infectious) self-renew and continue forward with the trend (thereby accelerating the elevation).

Individuals who'd benefit from advocacy - for whatever reason - cannot or will not advocate for themselves.  Regarding the latter, if they've been brainwashed to believe they've no / lesser value, advocating on their behalf will be that much harder to pull off successfully.  This is due to the codependency that tends to result from said brainwashing.

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Parents of multiple children who refuse to advocate for certain offspring befuddle me via their discriminatory behavior.

Here're two thoughts that come to mind:

-  Isn't a parent - by default - qualified to be the ideal advocate for their children?  Particularly if they're a biological parent?

-  What benefit (to the parent, in particular) is it to withhold advocacy from one of multiple children?

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Please consider the following disclaimer:  I'm not referring here to rebellious / disobedient / delinquent children.  

Instead, I'm referring to children who aren't homogeneous amongst the ranks (within the fam).  Perhaps they're NOTICEABLY less intelligent, less masculine / feminine, etc. than the other offspring.  As such, they're in need / owed (I would argue) - to an even greater degree - of parental advocacy.  

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Therefore, what might this advocacy actually look like?

For discussion's sake, let's say you are the parent of four beautiful children, all over the age of eighteen.  Two of these children are up and out of the house, living as productive, responsible adults.  But one of the remaining two is noticeably less intelligent (& always has been), and this dramatically impacts his short-term memory.  Yet, he's far more athletically built (larger skeleton) than his (other male) siblings.  

As such, wouldn't you advocate for this child, specifically as it pertains to his athleticism (noticeable physical strength / prowess)?  And don't assume I'm referring to team sports here.  What about strength training, CrossFit, etc.?  Activities that are biased towards athleticism without the requirement of above average intelligence.  

Wouldn't advocating for your child's customized success therein likely reap substantial benefits within his self-esteem, thereby improving your relationship therein?

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But what if you, as the parent, didn't speak that strength training / CrossFit language due to you yourself not having an athletic bone in your body?  What then?

You reach out to someone who does and entrust them to become your child's advocate (whilst keeping a watchful eye).

This is not rocket science.  Yet, I'm beginning to believe the (parents) embarrassment problem (towards their dunce / queer child) doesn't lie within the brain.  No, I'm now convinced that this is a heart problem. 

These parents simply do not care to either enmesh or burden themselves with the notion of advocacy for this specific offspring.  Hence, these children are left to flounder / rot on the vine.  

But why?  This only hurts them in the end by burdening everyone within the family that much further.  

I'm so confused.  What's the benefit of deeming a child - as I've described here - a lost cause?