The Earnest Wife (Puppeteer). Am I Happily Married To A "Doormat"?

During my first Samson Society meeting back in August of 2014, I met a younger man who'd also lost (two, actually) jobs for breaking company policy (IT / personnel).  I wasn't at all sure how to feel about that connection for I was still deeply overwhelmed with shame / grief therein (my similar job loss occurred in September of '13).  

He was very friendly though and did not discount the role his wife played in his recovery.  This piqued my interest.

This younger professional man's initial job loss came during a season where their young family was (as the Turners were) living in small town MS.  They'd been there a good bit longer than our one year, and therefore had made more platonic connections.  As a result of his job loss, his wife promptly "threw him out" (his words) of their house which resulted in him bunking on a friend's couch for +/- one week.  Eventually, he found another job (civil engineering firm), and after that seemingly reciprocal termination, they found themselves looking for work either back home (AL) or somewhere in Jackson (they landed in "The Bold New City").

At some point during all of these fits & starts, my new friend's wife declared that her husband was "someone she didn't recognize".  

I really became dialed in at this revelation for I knew that what she actually meant was:

"This part of you that's so drawn to sexual content / salaciousness / flirtatiousness with the opposite sex, I refuse to acknowledge (though I've been aware of it all along)."

In other words, pretend to be someone else.  Everyone likes you better that way.

I believe it's important to know that his wife was deeply religious, having come from a deeply religious family.

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A much younger, mentally ill Samson brother was quick to call out "doormat" wives within our then troupe.  The year was probably 2018.  In that regard, the husbands married to these ladies were Type A, dominant males.  This younger man obviously felt as if wives shouldn't be submissive?  I have no idea.  

Of course, this raises the question of what actually is / qualifies as submissive.    

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My second architect bossman (1996-2006) divorced his first wife (the mother of his two young sons) due to her being "unreasonable".  This man was / is ten years my senior (he hired me when I was 24).  Now, he'd been intensely hands-on with their second son (birth - preschool), leading me to believe his wife was an educated, working full-time professional (this man, my boss, had since remarried - to one of his employees).  I was never given the opportunity to meet Wife One but oh, how I longed to.  I absolutely wanted to understand more about his terminology.

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Last year, I reached out to a Samson brother who'd posted grim marital news on Slack (on Xmas Eve).  From there, we began to chat weekly.  He'd been separated (but only during the daytime) from his spouse for awhile, living instead at his sister's home (20-minutes drive away).  He been readily dismissing his siblings / parents' criticism of the arrangement (they wanted him back living full-time within his own home).  Instead, choosing to vouch for his wife's demands.

Keep in mind that she was a homeschool mom (to three young children) with bizarre health issues that were / are seemingly undiagnosable.  In fact, one of those bizarre health issues convinced her to demand that they build a new home in lieu of living comfortably (except for her) where they were residing.     

My Samson brother too had lost a job (D-day) via breaking his employer's IT policy.  He'd also executed a full disclosure with his wife under the guidance of a therapist.  I believe it's important to note that his job loss and all the complications therein resulted in suicidal ideation.

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Another Samson (younger) brother whom I've communicated with for a number of years ranks within the top 3 pertaining to intelligence / career success.  He's a brilliant guy who's in turn making money hand over fist.  In spite of his drive / vocational stardom, he's recently endured an "in-home" separation from his spouse.  

Too, she's feeling more agreeable now that his pocket computer is locked down, leaving him unable to go online.

Now, when I say brilliant whilst describing this young man, I'm not referring to just a high ACT / SAT score kind of brilliant.  I'm talking about - change the world sort of brilliant.  

What's interesting about his situation is he's terrified of his wife and her threats (particularly related to divorce).  

Yet, they spend almost all of their free time together.  Whether it's playing sports or vacationing (together with their two small children).  

Another interesting note is his wife is of Mexican descent (he's white).

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And finally, another Samson brother attended last Sunday's "Brain Changers" virtual Samson Society meeting (that I facilitate), having (earlier that Father's Day) been humiliated by his wife (in front of their adult children) via her chiding him pertaining to his "untrustworthiness" with computers (pocket & otherwise).  He was so distraught at her crass disrespect (he was in the middle of doing vacation research for their family) that he was visibly shaken.  I didn't know what to do in response.  

But I can tell you what my kneejerk reaction was.

Hire a divorce attorney yesterday.

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My wife recognized three things back in 2013 (D-day) regarding Rob, her husband:

1.  He'd been honest with her regarding his struggles with sexual sin since their formal engagement in 1995.  

2.  He'd been actively looking for help ever since.  Particularly in line with technological advancements (digital smut's viral availability).  

3.  The emotional fallout tied to his job loss had been devastating to him personally as well as their marriage, considering the risk they'd both taken to execute the new vocational role (with three small children).

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What frustrates me about my friendships with Samson guys, who're either married or seriously involved with the opposite sex, is how disjointed my feelings become regarding WHAT I HEAR of their spouse / spouse's reaction.  And this is due to the overlay of my own spousal support therein.  

I suppose too that I truly believe marriage is a sacred yoking between two very imperfect people.  People who didn't choose marriage to begin with in order to not recognize the desire for integrated, ongoing support.  Especially considering the unpredictability of culture / technology / life and how they intersect personally with each of us as individuals.  

In closing, I often hear Samson guys disclosing how their wives don't feel safe around them anymore.  

As strange as it may sound, I don't know why any woman could find a man attractive who's completely safe to be yoked to.  Men, by definition, are masculine in the sense that they will things into existence that weren't there prior.  They're also disciplined and resilient in line with this pursuit.  Hence, yoking oneself therein will result in risks that far outsize the security baked into a life lived alone.  This is what makes men men, and it's what makes marrying a man so enticing.

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).

A Man's Greatest Aphrodisiac Is His Perceived Ability To Provide A Woman With Security. Enter Prince Coitus.

During my high school days ('88-'90), there was a late-weeknight call-in "sex talk" show that was broadcast on cable television.  Mind you, this show wasn't available via premium channel, and it was not filmed in front of a live audience.  Instead, it was perhaps on some fledgling network in a fairly nondescript studio (similar to Larry King Live!).  Very rarely would I be up late enough (11 PM CST) to chance upon it (too the male host was incredibly obnoxious), but one night I do recall paying it heed due to there being a very handsome young man on set as an "in-studio guest".  

What intrigued me most about this particular broadcast was how this handsome bachelor proceeded to coolly articulate his rationale behind his (& other men's) nonchalant approach to promiscuity.  From there, he took it a step further and explained his thinking regarding how his female lovers choose to perceive him as a playa.

And this guy may have been prostituting himself to women.  I honestly can't remember.

Nonetheless, as a 17-18-year-old teenager, this served as an excellent lesson regarding cheap, hetero, sexual relationships.  As such, it truly has stood the test of time as I've lived out my life.

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The cul-de-sac we've lived on for 23 years is home to ten other "garden (small) homes".  Six of the overall eleven are 3-bedroom while the remainder are 2-bedroom.  There're three (not Medicare-age) singles living within these single-family homes, two of which are "relationally active".  

What I mean by that is both have significant others that visit often, and it's not unusual for them to stay overnight, even for weeks at a time.  

One of these two "relationally active" homeowners is female and other male.  Both have children, some of which pay a visit on occasion while others seemingly come and go at will.  

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Prince Charming is how the young, handsome in-studio guest (late-night '80s sex talk call-in show) described his harem of female lovers imagining him to be as they chose to participate in relationally non-committal intercourse.  

As we know from the fairy tale, Prince Charming was Snow White's savior.  He restored her health, having come for her during her time of "eternal sleep".  Therein, going forward, it's implied that his presence radically transforms her existence which leads to abundance, joy, and eternal happiness.  It's a fate that's fit for a Disney film, and it is deeply ingrained within the psyche of our culture.

The young, handsome in-studio guest went on to describe how he could sense this mirage each and every time he'd achieve participating within consensual intercourse, based on the woman's receptiveness towards him.  He did, in fact, acknowledge his physical attractiveness (which perfectly played into her fantasies), but made it clear that each of the women he'd engaged with sexually were unwilling to spread their legs out of a raw desire to fuck (which was his MO).  Instead, they were perpetuating a romantic fantasy throughout coitus that was hinged on safety, stability, and hopefulness (that he'd surely bring abundance, joy and eternal happiness).

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Our home is positioned at the entrance point of our cul-de-sac.  As such, we have more frontage than any of the other ten homes, by far.  Therefore, me being in and out a fair amount, I can't help but see who's coming and going at all hours of the day and night.  Loverboys (& girls) make their way to our neighbors' abodes regularly, all the while never acknowledging Rob as they do so.  I find myself, at times, attempting to make eye contact when they pass but to no avail.  Me thinks this is the case due to fact that I'm no doubt a REAL, LIVE HUSBAND.

Men absolutely crave wet pussy.  As much as they can get and as often as they can get it.  Women want security.  Even if it's fantastical security.  And they'll (oftentimes begrudgingly) jettison their chaste in order to compromisingly receive it. 

What's fascinating to me is the power of the fantasy.  Females are taught, from an early age, to firmly believe in Prince Charming in tandem with what romantic love looks like.  

My question is, when do they become more involved with the fantasy, thereby removing their better judgement relative to reality?  In other words, knowing that they'd be better off, for all parties involved, to steer clear of perpetuating yet another sexual relationship, why do they allow themselves to not see men's intentions clearly (zero long-term commitment / artificial security)?  

Fantasy, within women's minds is amazingly affective.  I have to wonder if intercourse (resulting in orgasmic pleasure) doesn't further concretize the illusion as the brain releases hormones in line with the sex act itself.

Prince Coitus?     

Refrain From Reverse Engineering (Then Overthinking) The "Attachment Theory"

I believe the "Attachment Theory" holds a lot of merit for guys in active recovery, but when parents of small children attempt to reverse engineer it, we've found that they tend to overthink / way overreach it.  From there, they may very well do more harm to their children (& marriage / family) than good.

For example, let's say you didn't / weren't allowed to properly attach (emotionally) to a parent(s) as a small child.  Hence, this, no doubt, will impact your emotional health as an adult / (potential parent).  From there, let's say you marry and choose to have children of your own.  And you're privy to the "attachment theory", having studied it extensively.  Therefore, you choose to overcompensate (hyper-attach?) whilst rearing your own child(ren) as a result.

We've seen parents do this by giving their children free reign.  Very few constraints.  Very few boundaries.  And this can result in children becoming elevated / entitled pretty quickly.  To the point that they're the ones ruling the roost.  

It's a weird scenario, and I'm convinced most children who're within the throes of it do realize that it is back-assward (relative to their peers). 

For as you know, children are brilliant.  Somewhat powerless, for sure, but certainly brilliant.

My advice to you, Samson brother, is to ONLY delve into this theoretical work from the standpoint of understanding your adult self (who's in active recovery).  From there, I would argue that your recovering / recovered self (as a parent) will do a far better job rearing your own children by default (on autopilot).  In essence, trust your recovering self to not make the same mistake(s) as Mom and Dad did.

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

"Momma's Been Married Five Times."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should I Take (Advantage Of) This Trip?

Chemistry.  You've heard that word before, and no doubt you've experienced it for yourself.  That's the best word I know to describe sexual tension / attraction between two people.  

I vividly remember facilitating a project meeting (during Rob's architecture career) at a Mississippi university 10+ years ago.  There were 6-8 of us in the conference room of the Physical Plan, and partway through the meeting, a lovely young lady was invited in.  She was a campus museum curator, and now in attendance because the university-owned museum (that she oversaw) would be impacted by said construction project in the near future.  Therefore, we felt compelled to include her early on within the planning stages in order minimize disruption for her department.  

I immediately took note of the chemistry between her and one of the young engineers in the room.  It was easy to spot as they dialogued regarding scheduling / logistical coordination pertaining to the project scope.  Looking back, I've often wondered if they ever followed up with each other after the fact.  

Body language, pupils, facial expressions are dead giveaways to chemistry.

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My oldest daughter has a pronounced impact on certain men.  Even when she was in early high school and still wearing braces, I'd witness younger men react "chemistrially" to her presence.  Because she was a minor (& I was present), you could clearly see their discomfort as they wrestled with the situation, they now found themselves within.  

An old Samson friend used to react the same way around her (he hasn't seen her for many years).  Even with his own wife / children present.  It was always amusing to me due to the fact that I knew his porn diet consisted solely of "Barely Legal / Girls Next Door" models.

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On the opposite end of the spectrum is chemistry between younger men and older women.  

Here's another memory:  my second (sophomore year) potluck college roommate once bragged about having a sexual relationship with one of his friend's moms.  This guy looked far older than he was, primarily due to his hugely muscular build.  That, combined with his overall machismo, lead me to not question his track record in spite of how uncomfortable it made me whilst ruminating on.

Similarly, I have friends now within Samson Society who've admitted to bedding older women, many of which were married (at the time) and mothers.

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I serve as a board member of a local (community) volunteer organization.  I ended up therein by providence, having run-into the org's tenured director (she resides within a neighboring community) one Sunday morning whilst out running (exercising).

As I came to know the director better, I began to see how much I admired her commitment to this org and subsequently to the community she and I both have been longstanding members of (which the org directly serves).  This woman is highly intelligent / driven / passionate.  As such, she talks incessantly about whatever's on the forefront of her prefrontal cortex (which is A LOT).  

It didn't take me long to sense the chemistry between us (much moreso on her end than mine).

I've been serving as a board member for most of '22, and though she and I haven't worked directly on any projects throughout this calendar year, she's beginning to propose that we do (in '23).  

Know too that this wonderful lady is retired and serving as her (almost entirely homebound) husband's full-time caregiver.  They've had a long, successful marriage, but unfortunately at the present, his health is failing rapidly.  She, on the opposite end of the spectrum, is as vibrant and youthful as ever.  

So, I know what you're thinking.  What does she look like?

She's pretty hot for a grandmother.  In fact, she's the hottest grandmother, by far, that I've seen in some time (other than my mom who obviously CANNOT / WILL NOT count).

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During our last board meeting (a few weeks back), an out-of-state regional retreat was discussed.  It quickly became apparent that it was a retreat (hosted within the larger eco-system of the org itself) that someone needed to attend from our board.  I spoke up to represent our group, and soon thereafter duly coordinated my '23 calendar accordingly to accommodate the two-day excursion.  The aforementioned director regretted not being able to attend (ailing husband).  As such, my commitment to do so was warmly received by everyone in attendance.  

Yesterday, (12/15) I received an email from our director stating that she'd like to attend too.

?!?

[I couldn't help but be reminded of my mother's adulterous trysts with her boss 40 years ago (I was 10 years-old at the time) during out-of-town trips to the Mississippi Gulf Coast.]

The director went on to say that her husband "used to" accompany her on trips like these.

?!?

I replied to her email with the following:  "I only agreed to attend the regional conference in your absence, therefore once you make a final decision on attending, if you're unable to go, I'll gladly sign up to represent [the org] during that event.  I have coordinated my work schedule accordingly, therefore I'm on standby to sign-up.  There's no need to expend [our org's] resources for two reps to attend."  

Thanks mom (for the memories)!

For Tenured Samson Guys, Church Can Seem Awfully Saccharine

Being reared in a megachurch (First Baptist Church Jackson) with the pedigree of a Huckleberry Finn, I simply stood back in awe of the spectacle, masses and outstanding preaching.  As a teen, I was there during the late '80s when Dr. Frank Pollard (Senior Pastor) was in his prime (during his second appointment there).  We attended both Sunday mornings and evenings, giving nary a second thought to driving all the way from humble (back then) Madison to downtown Jackson twice (+/25 minute car ride) on The Lord's Day.

Church provided teen Rob (only child) with so many good opportunities to be cared for by adults who weren't Bob and Darlene.  Therein, I was lassoed in by the gospel at the tender age of 13.  In many ways it was religiously idyllic.  Especially considering the setting being Mississippi.

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Today, Samson Society provides the caring adults who support Rob, done so at a level (appropriately so) that's far more nuanced and intentional.  

So where does that leave church?

Church, to me, is like going to the Y for a workout or down the Reservoir multi-purpose trail for a run.  It's time well spent, but mostly, it's routine more than anything else.  

Now, we tithe our 10% every month, and I sing in the Chancel Choir for both the Christmas and Easter cantatas, and I will keep doing that.  

But, I don't work hard to make close Presbyterian friends, participate in either the domestic or overseas mission projects or aspire to become a deacon / elder at Lakeside Presbyterian Church.  

Hence, some Sundays can be monotonous and thereby fatiguing.  

But, there is one regularly scheduled church programming event (Fall / Spring) exception to this.

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One of the things I really like about our little community church is Wednesday nights.  And not just due to the food line ("Family Night Supper").  

When I was in late elementary school, Bob & Darlene would bring me to megachurch (First Baptist Church Jackson) for Wednesday evening service, and though the food was great, everything else about it sucked.  

Primarily this had to do with the facilities, which were vast, but on Wednesday evenings, the attendance numbers were miniscule compared to Sunday mornings.  Hence, the megachurch building felt daunting and frozen due to its emptiness.  

As such, their formality was amplified that much more.  

After that singular year (1985?), we discontinued attending Wednesday megachurch services because none of us liked it one bit. 

Fast forward to today, and there's no doubt that Lakeside Pres' facilities are on the opposite end of the spectrum.  They're not even, by definition, modest.  Haphazard is the best descriptor I can think of.  Yet, in so many ways, it's a perfect reflection of the community it serves, and this is due to the fact that the Reservoir area is such the Hodge Podge free-for-all / redneck resort paradise of the Jackson Metro.  

Today, Wednesday nights at Lakeside Pres are typically jammed packed with middle to upper middle-class Presbyterians, easily stretching the seams of the '70ish facilities.  It's borderline raucous.  And I like that about it because it doesn't - in the slightest - reek of church.  Plus, there are even a few occasions where Bible studies are enacted, following dinner, that are well worth the weekday evening invested. 

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My wife, Angie, isn't involved in The Sarah Society (a women's equivalent to Samson Society), therefore her relationships at Lakeside Pres are (aspiringly) tantamount to the ones I enjoy via Samson.  Therefore, on Sunday mornings, she lingers far longer than I do - after the service - to chat meaningfully with her friends.  Angie's also far more likely to interject prayer requests during Sunday School, and she frequently attends a ladies' breakfast gathering amongst her middle-aged (& a few older) peers.

Angie loves Lakeside Pres.  In fact, were she forced to choose between it and her husband, I'm pretty sure she'd choose Lakeside Pres.  

And that makes me really happy because I believe church today is mostly geared towards women and meeting their spiritual needs.  In conclusion, finding one where my wife feels communal makes me one quite content Samson guy.     

"Will You Be My BFF If I Suck Your Dick / Sodomize You?"

The Internet - URLs, apps for pocket computers - gives us exceptionally easy opportunity to splinter into tribes.  And these tribes can be built around all manner of mutually agreed upon tropes, but in the end, their purpose is to provide men with relational respect and women with relational security.  Those are the baseline needs being carried out therein.

When apps for smartphones, in particular, came on the scene, the most popular ones skyrocketed to the top relative to "tribalism indoctrination" efficiency.  Hence, hookup apps made the top ten list almost overnight.

All in all, the keyword here is efficiency.  This is why / how software programmers made oodles of $$$ so quickly (selling subscriptions / ads to support their hookup apps' services).

Garnering a friendship takes a boatload of time / effort, and there's absolutely zero guarantee relative to a return on your time / effort (emotional investment).  Hence, most adults are wary to even make the effort.  But, hookup apps changed all of that (for many, many consumers).

And here's how I came to understand that whilst also managing to come to terms with just how baseline depraved, we truly are as a people.

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Mr. Nate Larkin is the founder / spokesperson for the Samson Society.  As such, he's often on the road, taking his testimony / outlook regarding our community to those who've never heard.  As far as I know, he mostly speaks to churches, asking them for an audience over a period of two consecutive days.  Oftentimes, that second day is where he'll organize some "trial run" Samson meetings in the church basement with said parishioners.

I received an email from Nate many years ago about a man who'd approached him after his stock church speech.  Nate has known of my sexuality for some time, and he wanted to know if he might triangulate me with this man due to what he revealed to him there at the front of the alter.  I had no problem with that.  Hence, I waited for my new friend's communique, but received not a peep.  Finally, I pinged Nate regarding the silence, and from there, Nate's follow-up served to open the spigot.

Whilst looking back, I can tell you that this man was angry.  Angrier than any man I've ever had the privilege to know.  Much of that anger was laser focused towards the opposition (political).  He constantly devoured political rhetoric, allowing it to stoke the flames of his rage.  As such, this anger was what fueled his life.

This man was very intelligent and extremely motivated.  He was a successful business owner and bodybuilder.  Plus, he owned / singlehandedly managed real estate in multiple states.  Physically, he had such the stature compared to his diminutive wife.  That coupled with his million-watt smile did wonders to attract suitor after suitor on - of all things - Grindr.  

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His response to me as to why he'd hooked up with close to (100) men anonymously (over a period of +/-10 years) came down to his desire to foster friendships.  Plain & simple.  Friendships that were reliable as this man traveled (for work) to repeat destinations.  In his words, he was seeking friendship that was built on shared interests, and for him, those consisted of drinking, watching sports and - on occasion - having gay sex.

No doubt, all of these suitors (& potential friends) were drawn to my new friend's Grindr profile due to his impressive physique / handsome mug.  Again, plain & simple.  It was the "bait" - so to speak - that he hoped would serve to initiate a longstanding, reliable friendship(s).

But it didn't work.  And though he knew the sex was sin, he couldn't understand why his long-game approach didn't reap the results he'd longed for.

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If you're anything like me, all of this seems preposterous.  But this is our reality ever since these malevolent apps came on the scene.  And this is happening every day.  Sex has become so cheap that we truly have become like dogs in heat (glued to our pocket computers like a dog licks his butthole).

One last note regarding my friend.  As you can imagine, throughout this promiscuous season, he constantly lived in fear of becoming HIV positive, therefore he was vigilant about being tested for the virus.  At the same time, he was no doubt putting his naive wife at risk too each time they had intercourse.  But he had no issue with that.  Them "friendships" took precedent.

In the end, he essentially saw this period of his life as a relational side hustle that he deeply regretted involving himself in.  As stated, it grew out of his need for connection, but it was the perceived efficiency that promised him an understandable, by-the-book plan for success.  An efficiency which was hinged on his ability to exploit newfound tech to his advantage which resulted in him forlornly "cutting the crap" in an attempt to expedite connections he could rely on.  

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Generosity is the key to winning friends.  Plus, since generosity is ultimately Christ-serving, even if you're unsuccessful in the platonic realm, your obedience (to Christ) stands.

Here's a favorite definition of generosity:  largeness or fullness; amplitude

I love that word amplitude.  It implies casting a wide net.  Spreading generosity liberally on ALL FREQUENCIES.  

I love seeing wonderful films in theaters with exceptionally capable sound systems.  I've even had the good fortune of seeing one film in a Dolby Atmos theater.  There's something amazing about hearing everything on all frequencies (8 to 64 channels!), all around you, as you're watching the lovely big screen.  

Last night, we had a young couple and their baby (who're three members of Lakeside Pres) over for dinner.  It was a lovely time, but especially so from the standpoint of how intentionally the young man took an interest in our (my) garden.  He and I spent a better part of twenty minutes out there, throughout the evening, dialoguing about its origin, various species of native plants, etc.  With he and I both coming from Mississippi country "stock", there was an immediate shared appreciation for our pedigreed green thumbs, and what joy they have / could bring to us and our clan.

Early this morning (insomnia), I looked back into iMessage on my pocket computer and was surprised to find that it was almost exactly three years ago that this young man and I had our one-and-only lunch together.    

A day or so prior to that 2019 rendezvous, I'd emailed him my testimony (warts & all).  As a result, the lunch itself was awkward.  I could tell that he'd not at all appreciated by candor relative to my story.  And this was because he had mistakenly assumed I was fit to become a potential "mentor" (his words) of his (they had recently joined Lakeside Pres).  Instead, he was now faced with a pervert queer guy who'd felt the need to tangentially overshare to the nth degree.  And this disappointed him tremendously.  For what benefit was a pervert queer guy who's into oversharing to this young fellow?

It was this young man's wife who'd introduced herself to Angie (+/-3-5) months ago at church (some sort of women's function).  Soon thereafter, Angie asked me about this young lady's husband, vaguely remembering my rendezvous from 2019.  I updated her sincerely, and not surprisingly, she walked away with a familiar grin.

Eventually, the aforementioned dinner party from last night was calendared and rescheduled.  And now, here we are.  The.  Day.  After.

Interestingly enough, the young man has even text messaged me today, thanking me for sharing some zinnia seeds (which he planted upon their return home yesterday evening).

I can tell you with no hesitancy that the three years since he and I first came together has given him time to come to terms with my transparency.  And that relational incubation period - if you will - was no doubt put to good use by God's spirit.  For the young man I shared the evening with last night was far more mature than the one I engaged with three years prior.  

And that makes my willingness to be generous with myself worth it all the more.  For this dude now understands fully how both important it is to me and how it actually can be that we co-exist on the same platonic plane as broken, imperfect men.  

And thankfully, there's no blow jobs or buttfucking called for.        

Be generous.  Expect nothing in return.  Be patient and mindful of your Christian witness.  Have faith that God will return to you - exponentially - what you've been willing to give indiscriminately and altruistically.  From there, sit back and remain hopeful.

A Holiday Weekend To Listen (To My Wife)

The reason my wife fell in love with Rob was because I chose to listen to her.  For I had not a straight bone in my body.  Nor was I a hyper-competitive male looking to make my "first million" by age 30.  Nonetheless, Angie didn't give a shit about those things.  Instead, she became entranced with my interest in her / her state of mind / her hopes & dreams, etc.  Why was this so important to her? 

Angie grew up in an ultra-dysfunctional household where everyone constantly walked on eggshells relative to her mother's untreated mental illness (borderline personality disorder) and (seasonal) alcoholism.  BPD's primary descriptor is an intense emotional self-focus.  To the point of obsession.  And this preoccupation with one's emotional frame of mind is absolutely sacrosanct, therefore within Angie's family, this was the overarching delineator within the real-time family dynamic.  Hence, Angie was, by definition, the overlooked, emotionally neglected child, who did her darndest to simply keep the peace.   

To give you an idea of how intrusive / domineering my mother-in-law's BPD was / is, I can still recall one Easter holiday where my parents hosted lunch to include my grandmother (now deceased) and Angie's parents.  My grandmother, of all the Turners, was quite the intelligent woman, and she ended up seated, during lunch, next to Angie's mom (whom she'd never met).  Before everyone departed from the festivities, my grandmother pulled me aside and stated, "There's something wrong with that woman."

And she was so right.  

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Over the past 3-4 months, Angie has been singlehandedly cleaning out her mother's +/-3,000 single-family home.  The house was built in northeast Jackson in the early '80s, and the majority of the interior / exterior reflects how it looked when my wife was a child (she's in her early 50s today).  Our two youngest daughters have also been pitching in relative to this monumental task, but all in all, it's been left to Angie.

My mother-in-law is physically capable to assist with this effort, but she chooses not to.  Instead, she simply hovers around Angie and the girls, talking incessantly.  My mother-in-law is one of those individuals who says EVERYTHING that comes to her mind.  And she's an extremely intelligent woman.  Hence, her CPU is always providing plenty of fodder for her to articulate.  Unfortunately though, my mother-in-law's age is / has been taking a toll on her short-term memory, and this is what's prompted the (post hand wringing) decision to discard all of the garbage / refuse out of her house.  Ultimately, all parties involved have decided that she must move out of her abode soon.  Living independently, especially considering the squalor (which isn't going to miraculously disappear), is no longer an option. 

You might be wondering why I haven't assisted with this effort.  It comes down to my mother-in-law feeling threatened by my presence.  Therefore, it's been left up to Angie to see this project through.

One side note:  Angie does have one brother, and he too lives in the Jackson Metro.  He's in his late 40s and is in superb health (unlike my wife) with zero responsibilities (he's childless) other than working the night shift at a local hospital and feeding his beloved pooch.  My mother-in-law absolutely adores him for he can do no wrong.  Yet, in spite of him agreeing to pitch in with this effort early on (he actually met with Angie and her mother at their childhood home to discuss at the beginning of this year), he's been a complete no show (despite repeated cries for help).

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Today is the 2-year anniversary of Angie's stroke.  And, by God's grace, she's not had a second one (that we're aware of).  This is an amazing gift from God because many stroke patients are not so fortunate.  She's been quiet today, and I know it's due to her reliving what went down on this day in 2020.  

She and I pray often, thanking God for both her stroke in 2020, my job loss in 2013 and other events within our marriage that brought great, unexpected suffering.  And we do this because suffering has the potential to increase faith.  She and I would like to believe that this has been the case for each of us, thanks to those terribly difficult events.

My job this Memorial Day weekend is to pay heed to my wife by making myself available to her with both ears open.  Tomorrow, she'll return to her mother's home to continue forward with the cleanout.  My hope is that before the day is done, we'll have a few additional minutes to connect; just as we did so effortlessly during our dating years.  Listening to Angie is the greatest gift I can give her.  She is (like all of us) is hardwired to receive.

Lagniappe

How Best To Disrespect That Important Man In Your Life

At the outset of the church service on Easter Sunday morning, a concerned mom reflexively approached me about her adult son.  In doing so, she asked me to reach out to him in spite of the fact that I'd already done so prior (this guy's about my age & visited our church - a few times - with his fiancé last spring).  Per his mother, the son had remarried (wife #2) last summer, and as a result, his ex-wife was not / had not (quite understandably) responded well (as the mother of his only child).  Therefore, her son was in an emotional pickle for such a time as this and had been for some time.

Combined with that, her son recently applied for Social Security Disability as he's no longer able to work due to a chronic medical condition. 

I did my darndest to be sympathetic to this mother's pain, but I made it clear that I had no intentions of pursuing her son at her bequest - no matter how much she pressed me to do so. 

Why?

It would be disrespectful to him.  And friendship certainly cannot grow forth from disrespect.  

What I did do is give her my card, urging her to pass it along to him whilst reminding her that I'd given the same - directly to him - last spring.  I continued on by reminding her that by doing so, I did look straight at him, extending a(n) (still unmoved) hand of friendship.

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I'm serving as a Silas to a GA man (he's my age and of the same race as I) that I met at the February '22 regional Samson Society retreat.  He's married to wife #2 (white woman), and she has refused to decouple herself from two very close black male friendships that existed well in advance (by ten years) of her meeting my Silee.  My Silee feels marginalized as such and rightly so.   

These two friends engage with my Silee's wife most days, mainly via text message, and his wife justifies fostering these ongoing relations due to their pre-existence to her relations with him (4-year marriage).

Men want one primary thing from women:  R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

My Silee's wife is disrespecting him by engaging with these other men on a platonic level.  The three of them should have brought their friendship to a decided close on the eve of her wedding to my Silee four years ago.  Instead, they continued forward, and as such, my Silee (& their marriage) has suffered.

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What is respect?

How do you give respect to a man?  (Especially if you're a woman.)

Men, by definition, are capable providers.  Mostly, that provision is in the form of security.  Physical security firstly with emotional security being a close second (often as a result of the physical security).

This provisional man modus operandi that I'm speaking of is internally realized before it can manifest itself outwardly.  Once it's established / recognized therein, women who love these men should celebrate it via their respect towards them.

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One last story:

A fellow MSU architecture student (that also graduated in '95) bumped into me yesterday at a local restaurant.  This guy is a few years older than I, gregarious and - as can be expected of an architect - a bit eccentric.

The last time he and I chatted was back in 2006 when we were colleagues at the same architecture firm here in Jackson.  

Today, this architect is a well-adjusted state government employee on the East Coast.  (This put a smile on my face.)

Before we parted ways, I asked him to introduce me to his wife (who was seated on the opposite side of the restaurant's dining room).  I vaguely remembered him getting married prior to our last juncture, but I didn't remember ever formally meeting his new bride (though I vaguely remembered what she looked like).  

Now, there's something you need to know about this architect.  He's keenly interested in keeping current on everyone's social standing / rank - where they're working, who they're in relations with, and so forth.  And reciprocally, he's more than willing to divulge as much of his same story in kind - so long as someone's willing to listen...to all the sordid details.

Hence, he's one of those guys that typically comes across as being slightly socially awkward, yet he typically makes up for it with his generous smile and honest assessment of his own shortcomings.  And I admire this.   

When he lead me over to the booth his wife was seated at, I immediately extended a hand with a big smile on my face.  

Now, before I go any farther, it's hopefully apparent that this guy isn't (nor has ever been) one to meet a stranger.  Therefore, I've no doubt that his sweet wife has been introduced to countless former colleagues (like myself) within similar settings.

Her reaction amounted to her appearing to be infringed upon as she chomped on her lunch.  Now, perhaps she was having a rough day, or maybe she'd just started an intermittent fasting program, and this was her first solid meal in quite some time.

Anything's possible.

I can tell you that my sweet wife, Angie, becomes seriously disgruntled when I choose to not introduce her to my friends / peers (within public settings like this).  She says it makes her feel invisible, and she absolutely loathes that feeling.  

Regarding this, I feared that my old friend might have come away as such, and that worried me.  For invisibility certainly doesn't equate with respect.

Start By Honoring His Wife. (You Have To Assume) She's Who He Sleeps With Every Night.

Married Samson guys often have wives that have been deeply hurt by their transgressions (prior to stepping foot into Samson Society).  Some of these women are still married to their spouses only because there're children in the home.  That combined with the hope that Samson Society can help to provide a steady road ahead for their marriage, often keeps them begrudgingly, bittersweetly committed.

When I entered Samson Society back in '14, Angie (my wife) was wholly supportive of my commitment to the community therein.  So much so that she was elated to know that she would no longer be my sole "post job loss (trauma)" sounding board.  As such, it wasn't long before I found guys within the Samson community that more than compensated for her generosity to (attempt) to support me - to the best of her ability - for such a horrendously difficult time as that.

For example, Angie immediately became my Covenant Eyes ally post-job loss.  And this was the case because I had no other friends that I felt comfortable engaging as such.  

And though she remained a CE ally for some time after I began my journey within Samson Society, she trusted wholeheartedly the other men that God brought into my life to continue therein supporting her husband.  In other words, she found relief from a responsibility that she felt didn't suit her (as my wife) one iota.

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Now, my primary attraction to Angie is rooted in her trust in me.  And it is a profound trust that's rooted in her willingness to be subservient.  For I'm a dude who struggles with same-sex attraction and always has.  Yet, she knew going into our marriage, 25 years-ago that this would be an ongoing narrative for me.

Many women would balk at this no holds barred trust approach, and I get that, but they're not Angie.  Hence, my reason for not marrying anyone but her. 

One thing that's unique about she and I is how long we've known each other (since our teenage years).  I believe this has had a profound impact on her ability to trust me.  We weren't anything other than friends in high school, but the relationship was decidedly built on mutual respect.

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I am slated to chat with my newest Silee's wife (with my Silee on the phone too) this afternoon.  This man (& his spouse) live in Hotlanta, and he and I became fast friends during the 2022 Gulf Coast Samson Society retreat (photo below) from a few weekends back.  After chatting with my new friend late last week (our first post-retreat, I'm now your Silas, dialogue), and hearing of the interpersonal dynamic between he and his spouse, I felt compelled to recommend to my Silee that we should kickoff our friendship by honoring her.

In the past, I've never made this move.  Instead, I naively assumed that my Silees' wives were like Angie.  Sorta relieved to be hands off.

But I have found - over the past eight years - that this typically wasn't / isn't the case.

Many of my Silees' wives were - and understandably so - actively looking over the shoulders of their husbands in response to the traumas that they'd endured (either directly or indirectly by his hands), and this form of self preservation began well before these men entered into Samson Society.

One of the most surprisingly creepy discoveries regarding this was how unabashedly these ladies snooped on their husbands by reading his text message exchanges (sometimes in real time), his email, etc.  Many too tracked their man's whereabouts via his smartphone location.  All of this sounded so fatiguing to me.

And oftentimes, I would only find out about this due to her questioning / complaining (to him) about some broached hyper-sensitive subject matter (that she'd read behind his back) that I'd brought to the forefront.  For if you know me, I tend to not pull my punches when it comes to the nitty-gritty / granular.

And then there's just the overall suspicion / mistrust that I was up against relative to her wanting to maintain some semblance of control over her husband's recovery (& arguably justifiable, taking her trauma into account).  As such, I found that this was her way of serving as his Recovery Nanny.

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The lesson here is that many (if not all) of the spouses of Silees need to know me - at the outset - as the Silas.  They need to have an opportunity to personally vet my capability / motive in order to NOT SUDDENLY FEEL LEFT OUT.  And that's what I'm going to attempt to accomplish today (please pray for this conversation).

Women want security from their men.  By me (& my Silee) being respectful of that need, we can certainly take the time to show my Silees' wives we truly care / have her husband's best interests at heart. 

And then from there, we'll see how things go, knowing that I've attempted to not discount her role as his wife (having known him far longer than I have).

Darlene, Jr.

As strange as it may sound, my mom is the closest person to me relative to serving as some semblance of a mentor.  Yet, she's done so throughout my life via a hands-off approach.  What I mean by that is she's modeled behavior versus attempting to teach it directly.  Perhaps that doesn't necessarily qualify her as an actual mentor, but it's never been in her DNA to attempt to instruct me directly in the ways of manhood.  And I realize that sounds weird, but just keep reading for further commentary on that.

Darlene and I have identical temperaments (self-reliant / positive / forward thinking), therefore there've been inevitable seasons of serious head butting, yet it's never too long 'till we've realigned our trajectories amiably.  I can remember occasions when I was a teen as well as a new father where I felt she'd overstepped.  Each time, I'd be firm in expressing my frustration 'till she was willing to reign in her demands / criticism.  This would often result in enduring some lengthy seasons of chilled reception (from her), but in the end, it was always worth the trouble / discomfort therein.  I actually used to appreciate her stubbornness that much more after the fact.  Yielding can be hard for individuals who're as driven as she, yet I'm one of the few people who's capable of that persuasion.

I recently had lunch with an old Samson friend who described the persona of his wife as "a man in a woman's body".  In many ways, that same description fits my mom.  "Tough as nails" is a tagline that we've all heard before.  It fits Darlene to a tee.  As such, as her only child, I've come to realize how privileged I've been to be reared by her and to - even today - have a strong, respectful relationship with her.  At this point in my life, I see myself as sort of an insider as to who she really is - behind the scenes.

You've seen those talk shows that feature family members of rock stars.  I've always felt like I'd qualify for one of those particular shows regarding my mom, as both her presence in my life as well as her public image (amongst the community my 'rents are part of) has always been somewhat larger than life.  

On the flip side of her demeanor / temperament is her graceful physical beauty wrapped in sort of a countrified, folksy poise.  

My mother became pregnant with me at age 18.  She was an impoverished high school student in the Mississippi Delta who'd found herself in quite the quagmire.  And yes, it was her physical beauty that served to enable her to take the steps she did to officiate that predicament.  

My father married her just a few months into her pregnancy.  And her beauty has mesmerized him ever since.  

My mother is one of a kind.  I'm proud to be her son but not at all personified by indebtedness to her. Therefore, it truly is a fantastic win-win for Rob, having had her model so many rock-solid attributes that serve as the foundational bedrock of who I am today.  In the end though, it is very weird having a woman serve me so faithfully as a mentor.  

Goodbye Cruel Girl(s)

The only time I was ever physically assaulted on the playground at school was during 4th or 5th grade.  At the time, I was around the same age as my youngest daughter.  But what made the assault unique was that it ensued from a girl.  And it was not at all provoked except by Rob being Rob.  My assailant absolutely hated me, and that hate had only swelled as elementary school progressed.  Hence, when she saw her opportunity to beat me up on that particular day, she did so with a vengeance, striking me in the head and face repeatedly with her fists after shoving me to the ground.  I remember not fighting back, but instead crying out that I had a recently been diagnosed with a brain condition.  Upon hearing that, she eventually got off of me whilst mocking my ridiculous ruse.  From there, I quickly dusted myself off before putting as much distance as I could between her and me (from that point forward).

After this day, I remember being terrified of this cruel girl, and not only because she'd humiliated me with her assault on the playground.  I'd never witnessed anyone basking in others' pain as she did.  She was like an uncaged wild animal that just happened to be one of my elementary school classmates year after year.  There was so much hatred in her little girl heart.  It was breathtaking to behold.

During middle school, this same girl would unabashedly mock our new-to-our-private-academy history teacher - during class - by calling him gay, queer or fag.  She did this at least once a week, intentionally loud and demeaning.  The studious young man (fresh out of college) would seethe upon hearing this, yet he'd simply try to ignore the verbal abuse and attempt to keep on teaching.  On occasion, he'd throw her out of the classroom, but more often than not, he'd simply attempt to make the best of a situation that truly was unmanageable.  These derogatory descriptors weren't readily used during the '80s, therefore that made them that much more vulgar and shockingly disrespectful.  

Once I moved into 9th (or maybe 10th) grade, I caught wind that this girl had become pregnant (over the summer) and therefore had dropped out of school.

I breathed a sigh of relief (as did my classmates).

I often wondered if her baby turn out to be the Antichrist.

High school became slightly more civilized once she was gone.

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When I arrived home from the 2021 National Samson Society retreat, I was delighted to see one of our neighbor's homes up for sale.  That particular homeowner, around the beginning of this year, had communicated her disdain for me and my entire family via the magic of text messaging.  

Over the course of the preceding weeks (before she revealed her disdain), she and I had been collaboratively working to schedule a date / time for her family to share an initial meal with the Turners.  And that sporadic communication had gone as one might expect.  

Yet, whilst looking back on that, I should have never been communicating in this manner with a young female neighbor.  Instead, the arrangements should have been made between she and my wife (who knew her slightly better than I did).

Nonetheless, I immediately blocked her number after her verbal vomit, but not before she'd had the opportunity to mock my disabled wife in the cruelest manner.  It was a heartless attack that left me speechless.

Over the course of this weekend, their U-Haul truck was loaded up twice, and each time they ferried it out of our cul-de-sac, I could feel my blood pressure diminish slightly.  Last night, one of their vehicles was still remaining, parallel parked on the street out in front of their former 2-bedroom abode.  But then, after we returned home from church, all reminders of their presence had been removed.

One quick side note:  A day or two after this neighbor's venomous text messages landed in my smartphone, I sat down with the girls and gave them clear instructions.  Everyone listened intently, and thankfully, no one questioned my orders.  In a nutshell, I relayed to them that I'd become aware of this woman's mental health issues, therefore in light of her instability, they were to steer clear of the family at all costs.  And they did.

And from there, we did as the Bible instructs and prayed for their salvation and well-being.

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Throughout my life, I've at times found myself having to associate / work alongside women who scare me via their combined intellect and virulence.  And this fear is rooted in the leverage they have as emotionally driven females.  

Because I'm a man, I refuse to fight these women, though I will stand up to them (if I believe it's absolutely necessary).  But more often than not, I simply work diligently to put as much distance between myself and them as possible.  

Being in their very presence hurts my heart.  Because I know they're damaged goods.  Deeply scarred.  Massively wounded.  More often than not by a man / men.

It makes my heart sick to see women in this condition, but it also puts a smile on my face when I see them move on.  

God help them.

The (Horny) Christian White Knight / "You Look Like Vice."

The first teenage girl that became infatuated with young (also teenage) Rob did so primarily via telephone conversations she and I had over the course of a few months.  This young, very sweet lady lived with her family in Saltillo, MS.  We'd met at a winter concert band event (hosted by a MS IHL) over the course of a weekend.  She played clarinet as I did, and me being as articulate as I was, we hit it off.  Over time, she lost interest, and this no doubt was accelerated by my unwillingness to frequent her repetitive (to me) invitations to awkwardly rendezvous while she was here in Jackson with her north Mississippi family.

Similarly, another girl (colleague from church) also fell (quite hard) for me thanks to Ma Bell, and this occurred despite the fact that this young lady lived in the Jackson area (near me).  At the outset of our relationship, Jean would call me from a local hospital (pay phone) as her parents were there visiting a dying relative (I believe it was her great uncle).  And this went on for a number of days / weeks, usually late in the afternoon / early evening.  I have no idea what we dialogued about for all those hours on end, but nonetheless, whatever it was, she obviously felt "attended to" enough to keep listening.

Me being an only child typically afforded plenty of opportunity & desire to chat it up with these friendgirls.  And this was especially the case during my early high school years (before I was frying more & more Chick-A-Fil during my junior / senior years).  Too, all of this made me feel like a nice Christian guy.

Angie and I had a long distance relationship while we were dating, and this occurred during my last year of architecture school at Mississippi State University.  While she was residing in Shreveport, LA, we'd chat most nights for hours.  I loved having this time with her.  It was a nice stopgap in light of the miles between us.

My brother-in-law was such the telephone magnate during his teen years that my in-laws installed a second telephone (land)line within their home just for him.  I distinctly remember looking Angie's home phone number up within the telephone directory on a handful of occasions, and always taking note of the indented verbiage that read (directly below):  Children's telephone....

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During the 2020 National Samson Society retreat, I had the privilege of sharing a meal with a Samson guy who was real-time resonating from a pivotal personal revelation (as a result of one of the workshop proceedings).  This man was in his late-50s / early-60s, and he explained to me how he'd been a victim of exploitation for much of his teen / young adult years.  Surprisingly, the predator in this case was his pastor's wife (who was obviously much older than he was at the time), and she did her wooing / predatory work always over the telephone (seductive phone sex).  This routine went on through his college years and well beyond 'till he reached his early 30s.  Yet, it wasn't 'till that 2020 retreat (decades later) that he recognized her predatory behavior for what it really was - predatory behavior.

During this year's National Samson Society retreat, I re-met another guy (who's closer to my age) who shared much more of his story (we only spoke briefly last year) with me (& a handful of other Samson guys who were in our small group).  I vaguely remembered him from last year.  Nonetheless, he remembered me, and from there he talked in detail about his longstanding issue with "white knight syndrome".

"White Knight syndrome" is the penchant to rescue the "damsel in distress" and as a result identify tremendously with said rescue, and it seems to take root within some men via childhood trauma.  

This guy's glamorized identity as a white knight revolved around an experience he had in middle school involving a close friend of his named Ben.  Ben asked for help relative to socializing with his "Australian cousin, Kyra" who was here visiting the states all by her lonesome.

This Samson guy agreed to make the effort to cold call fraternize with this young lady, and eventually this ongoing dialogue lead to seductive phone sex between the two children.

In the end, this Samson guy shockingly discovered that all of this hot and steamy middle school phone sex wasn't actually happening between himself and an Aussie named Kyra.  Instead, it had occurred between himself and Ben (his close friend) who'd been posing as Kyra all along.  

And this resulted in big time T.R.A.U.M.A.

After hearing this, I worked hard to triangulate between my now much more well acquainted friend and my aforementioned friend from 2020 (decades of phone sex with the pastor's wife), and the Lord facilitated that beautifully.  That, in and of itself, was super cool.  

Fast forward a bit into my new friend's (from this year's retreat) adult life, and you can see how this traumatic, privately sexualized middle school event (between he and his friend Kyra-Ben) powerfully affirmed / poisoned a distortion that took hold of his identity with a vengeance.

Thanks to social media (hurray for social media!), this white knight found himself reconnecting many years into the future with a (actual) female high school friend.  He did not disclose this online juncture to his wife, yet his friendgirl from high school did reveal her newly made (re)connection to her husband.

This now adult friendwoman had a number of personal problems (most of which stemmed from alcohol addiction) that this white knight quickly identified firsthand with great interest and compassion.  And despite their being geographically apart from each other (he lived in Nashville, her in Atlanta), they managed to eventually rendezvous and have intercourse.  

After this occurred a few times, her husband wised up to it and then the shit hit the fan.

According to this knight, all of that occurred +/-5 years ago.  Nonetheless, he divulged that he continues to long (obsess) for this damsel.  And he wasn't ashamed to admit to thinking of her everyday.  

His knighthood demands that he take covert ganders at her social media pages forlornly.  As such, there's the opportunity to affirm his validated fantastical identity (relative to her life's continued travails).

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To circle back to my super chatty brother-in-law, his first wife (who's now deceased due to alcohol poisoning) was his damsel in distress.  In fact, her entire family needed rescuing, according to him, therefore he gladly stepped up to the plate.  And no doubt, this was a noble cause backed by the purest of intentions, but their situation was far more intrinsically dysfunctional than he could have ever imagined.

Therefore, what resulted was him making a huge mistake that ended in much loss, heartache, and tragedy (as I referenced earlier).

It's important to know that there're few men who've known / experienced as much familial childhood trauma as my brother-in-law (at the hands of his parents).

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I've talked in the past about how women desire men to provide security for them, and in turn, men desire respect.  The White Knight syndrome, I believe, finds its root therein within this normal sequence of operations.  Especially under the guise of nice guy Christianity.  

It's fascinating to me how the White Knight fantasy can be elevated to such an incredibly important emotional plateau for both men and women, all the while finding its roots in what men and women truly want / desire out of romantic relations.

But this seems to be especially true when it involves seduction and intercourse (in the form of fornication / adultery). 

Within our culture, women aren't to be relegated to a weaker position in relation to men, yet some vilify their naturally identifiable circumstances to their advantage.  And, of course, the genders can be reversed as such with the woman being the one riding the white horse and the man wearing the flowing, pink gown.  It's uncommon but no doubt possible.

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There're an awful lot of individuals out there who're well positioned to be rescued.  Yet, it's best to remember that some of these will deliver the part with no regard for boundaries, perception or recourse.  Their one goal may very well be to seduce and entrap (without them even realizing it).   

On the opposing side of that truth is the White Knight.  No matter his intentions, he's setting himself up for nothing more than some intense orgasms.  And those only last for a few seconds at best. 

Lagniappe