"For it is true, we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so, it's those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them - we can love them completely without completely understanding."
This past weekend, Angie and I were working out at our local, crappy YMCA, and within minutes of us moseying in, a middle-aged guy introduced himself to me, all smiley and exuberant-like. Because strength training (if it's done correctly) involves physical pain, it's unusual to encounter folks therein who're in such high spirits.
This energized exerciser recognized me, but not my bride, yet he couldn't quite put his finger on how he knew me (I came to find this out later). From there, he actually encouraged me to chat with him during my workout routine, but alas, he soon discovered that he'd picked the wrong gym guy for that.
An hour or so passed, and from there, Angie brought me up to speed regarding this dude. For he'd eventually introduced himself to her too, and she immediately recognized him as one of our neighbors. One of our recently married neighbors. Who'd just happened to betroth another man.
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Back in late December of '22, I reached out to a Samson dude (via Slack) who'd been in a breakout room with me during a virtual Samson Society meeting. My follow-up request was to hear his story, and in order to instill some trust, I decided to divulge mine first (along with a link to this blog). I was grateful that this allowed me to gain his trust. He quickly followed suit, and within a few weeks, we were off and running with our friendship (rarely, if ever, did we see each other within virtual Samson meetings on down the road).
For the next six months, he and chatted consistently once a week. And when I say chatted, these were thoughtful exchanges with absolutely zero frivolities. This guy's voice is one that's overall, truly a pleasure to listen to. And that's a result of standalone speaking skill, region of the country he was reared within (dialect) and - most importantly - intelligence.
And when I say intelligence, I'm referring to strong intelligence.
Yet, his persona is demure. Almost to the point of being bashful. Nonetheless, there's a whole lot about him that I am absolutely drawn to. At least taking into consideration the portion of this Samson brother that I know, constraints notwithstanding.
This man was at the '22 National Samson Retreat, but I didn't know him then. Nor did I have the opportunity to meet him.
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22-23 years ago, I was already on the hunt for "group therapy / help" in whatever form I could find it locally. Back then, my primary issue was loneliness stemming from the shame / confusion surrounding my homosexual desires. This loneliness, I feared, might eventually drive me to cheat on my newish wife (Angie). Hence, I somehow caught wind of a local Methodist Church that had a "group" for "guys like me" (whatever that meant), and I attended after speaking over the telephone with one the church pastors who reflexively referred me to one of its regular attendees.
The group was a "Sex Addicts Anonymous" gathering, and every man that regularly attended (the same few meetings I attended) thoroughly creeped me out. Some of the things they shared during those hour-long meetings were so far beyond my comprehension relative to my mundane existence that I felt as if I literally had landed on another planet. It didn't help matters that most of these men weren't at all close to my age.
But the original guy (who was just a few years older than I) who'd been my initial SA point-of-contact had been super friendly and accommodating. And he too experienced strong homosexual tendencies (& had been reared in MS). Therefore, we made a point to meet outside of the SA troupe in order to fill each other in on our individual stories.
It was obvious from the beginning of our friendship that this man was entertaining the idea of somehow moving our relationship from the platonic to the romantic. And it wasn't necessarily due to any overt attraction to Rob. Instead, I believe he was solely looking to conveniently "scratch an itch". But I was married and couldn't relate to his itch. As a result of this, I began to slowly back pedal.
What made the most distinct impression on me regarding this experience was how out of place I felt at the end of the day.
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Yesterday morning, I received a call from my demure, highly intelligent Samson brother confirming his intention to attend next weekend's '23 National Samson Society retreat. In spite of his low-key demeanor, I could tell he was excited to be relaying this to me whilst confirming (yet again) my intentions to also attend.
I'll be honest with you, dear reader, I'm just as excited to finally meet him.
But mostly, I simply want to be present for him. For this will be my sixth National SS retreat. For me, they're routine. For him, not so much, since it's only his second.
In closing, I'm hopeful this physical coming together will serve our friendship well relative to confirming our mutual trust in each other. For trust between men is a true gift. Plus, this dude's just so freaking cool headed. What fun it will be to see if he'll actually let his guard down as he so readily did when we were telephoning regularly.
The biggest problem with the human experience is that we’re all trying to get someone to see the wondrous art that is who we are, whilst being buried under trauma and shame. And typically, no one stays around long enough to dig through the dark forest of our dysfunction to actually see our true selves / the inner child that is so desperate to be known. Therefore, we just put on a smiling mask of independence to hide our pain and need for connection. Then one day we wake up in our fifties to realize we may very should have exposed our wounds more readily decades prior. Hence, we mourn the time lost before morphing into a robot of responsibility, wondering if anyone will ever truly see us (most don’t).
And this, my friends, I believe, is the greatest loss to/in the modern world.
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".
I broke my Californian Morman Silee's heart last night by bearing down on him for recently snapping up the latest & greatest pocket computer.
He couldn't answer logically why he'd justified the purchase. Instead, he just laughed nervously as I continued to interrogate.
So, why exactly should he be scorned for owning the latest, most advanced smartphone?
To make him think. So few people actually do this anymore.
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This is why I'm a card-carrying Samson guy:
There is nothing on Earth I enjoy more than watching videos of gorgeous, hot guys having sex with each other. Particularly hot guys who are really into each other's bodies. All along, giving the impression, to the audience (me!), that they have a love for each other that's being expressed sexually. Too, it's icing on the cake if these videos are well lit ("high" production values), and the set (where the sex is taking place) is seemingly well designed.
To take it a step further, I like following certain gay porn models by watching video after video of them having sex with various other men or mens (or just themselves). It's a way for me to privately "get to know" / form a "relationship" these men who're dedicated to their field. Especially from the standpoint of how they specifically engage with their onscreen lovers.
In all honesty, watching these muscled, hairy studs orgasm is the zenith of pleasurable experiences for Rob. Seeing this is like winning the lottery! Especially when the camera captures their countenance as they're climaxing. Seeing their eyes roll back into their skulls as they hold their breath / moan in ecstasy...losing all semblance of respectable cool. This is what I (my flesh) live to see!
And as you know, dear reader, the Internet is / was designed for PORN!
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The absolute first line of defense that I have against satiating my fleshly craving to consume videos of men having sex is to pull back far enough to attack the problem via access.
You cannot run if you're crippled. It's as simple as that.
Hence, in order to properly advocate for myself, I had to willingly hamstring relative to tech. And this approach has served me incredibly well.
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So, who am I exactly relative to tech?
The Turners don't own a television other than a 27" Sony CRT that I purchased back in 2000 ($549.99 at Best Buy) when I passed the Architectural Registration Exam. It's in an entertainment cabinet at the foot of our bed in the master bedroom. It isn't tied to CATV or an Internet streaming service. All this behemoth is capable of doing is playing DVD video at 480i resolution (it does have a 16:9 widescreen viewing mode).
My wife, Angie, bought an Internet tablet years ago, but I don't have the passcode to unlock. We do not subscribe to any Internet streaming service nor are we a member of Amazon Prime.
My smartphone is so antiquated that it's really only suited for calls, texting, and navigation. It will take photos / videos, but it has so little memory that it won't hold too many. I am not engaged in social media at all. The notion of using my pocket computer to make video / photo selfies sounds about as interesting (& productive) as watching (or starring in) episodes of Teletubbies.
I do not and would not ever own a computer watch.
The laptop I have at home (to engage in the virtual Samson Society group, "Brain Changers", on Sunday afternoons) is a dinosaur. Surfing the Internet is possible, but it's very laborious. I often get the "High Memory Usage!" warning whilst having multiple tabs open within the browser.
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I came to adjudicate early on as a young man (pre-Internet) that it would greatly benefit me to become a contrarian to westerner's passionate pursuit of media consumption if I wanted to live any form of a fulfilling, Christ-centric life. Having been reared within a household where television broadcasting (CATV) was consumed nightly (weekdays & weekends), it didn't take me long to wake up to how much precious time I'd wasted staring at my parents' 20" Toshiba CRT television.
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Be smart, dear reader. If you enjoy lust as much as Rob does (& are as convicted as I am relative to its spiritual toxicity), put yourself on a very short (hardware / software) leash today. It's your first line of defense against being normal.
From there, use your time to read or write a book / poetry, play or compose a song on a musical instrument, exercise, volunteer, visit a friend, plant / tend to a garden, etc.
Anything is more respectable than staring at a screen, consuming mind-rotting content that will do you no good down the road.
