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.  

  

Recommended Listening / Reading

Nicholas Carr: Why Social Media Has Made Us So Anti-Social - The Gospel Coalition

Recommended Reading

Worship Where You Are: Five Ways We Suffer Well | Desiring God

Privately Lusting After Muscled And Hairy

My Covenant Eyes Ally had me laughing a few weeks back.  He's an attorney with a sharp wit.  Around that time, I had found myself being rebellious, therefore throwing caution to the wind, I'd been delving into smut (mostly via my pocket computer) in spite of CE's consistent monitoring (thankfully, this was not typical behavior for me).  

As such, on a few subsequent Mondays, a text message would appear subtlety / respectfully asking about my recent poor choices.  Not long after that, my Ally made a follow up that even today puts a smile on my face.  

He said, "You and I like the same thing except for the muscles and body hair." 

Lol. 

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When I was in upper elementary school, I went to an all-boys' summer camp (sponsored by FBC Jackson), and it was there (rural south AL venue) that I was shockingly exposed to my inevitable & archetypical (physical / emotional) future.  What I mean therein is I experienced a distinct encounter pertaining to what my future was pointing me (maturation) towards as a grown ass man.  At the same time, there was young me dealing with an ongoing subconscious disconnect / emotional chasm.  A chasm rooted primarily in shame / uncertainty.  For I understood clinically (in my head) what I was destined to grow into, but I absolutely, positively could not relate / understand / comprehend on any level what that meant for me specifically.  For I simply could not see myself as anything other than an unprepared, uninitiated boy.  It was as if I was stuck or frozen when it came to all things related to Rob's potential, celebrated journey into manhood. Therefore, when the time came for me to face the truth of what was on the horizon for me as a male, it understandably threw me for a loop / short-circuited my thinking.  As such, I quickly began idolizing therein that which I could not fathom albeit was desperate to fully understand / respect.  

I'm now ready to admit that there was sexual abuse involved in my lower elementary days.  It went on throughout one summer (Saturdays specifically), and though it didn't involve physical touch nor any malicious coercive intent (that I sensed at the time nor recall), its situational age inappropriateness (between me and the adult male party involved) was subtlety apparent to me even then.  I recall feeling powerless to speak up for myself during these instances of abuse disguised as "male peer bonding".  As a result, I began to equate MAN with a future I couldn't / refused to relate to.     

To circle back to my summer camp story, the exposure occurred whilst brushing my teeth before bed on the first night we were there.  Our bunkhouse chaperone (young adult male college student) nonchalantly stepped out of the shower naked and wet right in front of me.  His muscled (very adult-like), hairy, tanned body was in its athletically built prime.  And his junk looked absolutely enormous despite the mass of damp pubic hair crowning / partially obscuring it.  

Whilst looking back, I'm absolutely sure it was his junk that was the most shocking.  For it truly looked like a horse / donkey dick and balls (to my 5th grade eyeballs).  

I spent most of that week privately fixated on this reveal as we went about doing your expected Christian summer camp travails (such as singing "Kumbuya, My Lord" around the evening campfires).  But what truly kicked this fixation into high gear was when our Chippendales-like chaperone ushered a select few of my 5th grade colleagues to bunk with him within his adjacent private room (throughout the remainder of the week).

Oh, how I secretly longed for him to have chosen me.  As you can imagine, my imagination went into overdrive as a result.  

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Yesterday, whilst at the Y, there was a high school newbie strength training alongside.  He was not properly dressed for the gym, and that may have conveniently been due to his lean build (he was wearing slacks).  I silently admired his chutzpah for braving the space (at his age / with his build) for I knew exactly why he was there.  To actively work towards becoming more muscular / strong / "man-looking".  And like so many newbies, it was obvious that he'd no clue as to what he was doing.

Full disclosure:  My time at that stage of my life was spent lusting after muscled and hairy men.  And even moreso if they were golden tan whilst sporting a handsome mug. I did this with so little thought that it was almost as if I spent sizable portions of my adolescence within a sort of homoeroticized lust trance.   

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When the Internet came on the scene (within the first few years of my marriage), I'd found my private, digital honey-hole.  The salacious imagery, particularly the stunningly executed images of beautifully tan, hairy, muscle men only served to suffocate me with lust fodder.  

Eventually, considering the I.T. inevitable, the maturation of the Internet (dial-up to DSL to T1, etc.) ushered in a much broader spectrum of captivating smut.  I watched as photos became videos became HD videos.  

But eventually (in large part due to my decade-long participation within Samson Society), the intense salaciousness wore off and this type of imagery simply became a repository for cheap thrills (it all began to look the same).  

In line with that, my libido dramatically diminished simply due to my middle-aging.  

Internet porn blandness + middle-age reduction in sex drive = Reason to celebrate!

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Today, I'm really pleased with my physical self.  For I'm muscled and hairy in my own right as a 52-year-old man.  I especially like how I feel whilst casually dressed.  Specifically, I don't feel as if I'm hiding my body via my wardrobe.

Consistent strength training / running combined with healthy eating habits, over the past +/-18 years, has paid off in droves.  And, of course, genetics have benefited me too.  I'm very thankful to God for these developments.

When you loathe yourself, whether it's rooted in some form of childhood abuse or not, you know that such a negative outlook makes you decidedly vulnerable.  Vulnerable to rejection, criticism, failure.  Things that are inevitable life experiences.    

In order to survive, I had to commit.  Both to Samson Society (once I stumbled into it in 2014) as well as a healthy, very active lifestyle that was the antithesis of normal for a Mississippi man.  It's been a long-term commit.  In order to protect / honor myself.  For I remember the hurt and the abuse like it was yesterday.  Those scars will never be erased. 

 

Recommended Reading

Brothers, Consider Your Spirit: The Manly Business of Pastoring | Desiring God

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Dopamine Media Is a Digital Las Vegas

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Break Shame’s Chains Through Christ

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A Powerful Stream Of Piss

One way to ensure high pressure urination is to hold it in for a while.  Another way is to acquiesce one's genitals into their "best" (most pleasurable) behavior (coitus).  & I don't say that in jest.  Everyone (ideally) hopes to show their lover a good time when the time comes (sorry).  And by that very hopeful goal / definition, the resulting acidic release will no doubt be impressive.   

But can we not also hedge this truth up against the idealism put on display whilst attempting to kindle a new friendship?  And in line with that, the release after the fact, once we finally allow ourselves to exhale / let out our gut?

Friendships are built over time, but firstly, they must be initiated by someone.  From there, an intimate encounter must occur where both parties participate in equal measure.  Perhaps this is a "eat / meet up", golf outing, hunting, fishing, etc.  Whatever is of interest to both parties.  Whether it's individuals or entire clans.

And this encounter takes a lot of energy.  For most everyone wants to put their best foot forward.  At least initially.  Too, there's simply the focus required to perform versus the after-the-fact involuntary exercise of relieving oneself (letting one's hair down).

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Now, I realize not everyone agrees with this "Jekyll / Hyde" approach to relational charm 100%.  Some would rather mix & match here in order to "present more authentically".  But for me, I typically do gravitate towards charm versus gravitas as a first priority.  And I believe that has something to do with my southern upbringing. 

For a beautifully set table says a lot, don't you think? 

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Last summer, I began to notice some very out-of-the-ordinary activity at one of our neighbors' homes.  And mostly this was due to my years-long knowledge that this abode was a rental, and a very ugly (architecturally) rental at that, situated on a less-than-ideal lot.  Surprisingly, whomever was now living there had taken an interest in its upkeep!  I could hear lawn equipment in full swing combined with the impossible to miss minor upgrades such as outdoor string lights draped above the back porch, etc.   

As a result, I made a point to drop by and introduce myself.  I was delighted to find the family to be engaging and kind, and they seemed deeply grateful for the handshake / welcome from my oldest daughter and me.  Eventually, a formal invite to dinner (at our abode across the street) was delivered, but it didn't actually occur (due to their rigorous family schedule) 'till right at the tail end of last year.   

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What made this all the more significant was the history of homeowners / tenants who'd resided within that ugly eyesore of a home.  A history that mostly consisted of difficulties / disappointments that we were keen to forget.  Hence, a fresh start was upon us, and we were elated.

Eventually, mid-December came.  I remember coming home from work early to assist everyone for our guests' (Dad / mom / son / teenage daughter) Friday night arrival.

A quick sidenote:  What I hadn't accounted for was the time lapsed (+/-6 months) since making first (brief) contact with this white, middle-class fam.  Hence, they'd now truly settled into their rental with its history / shortcomings having soaked in thoroughly.  

As such, they were obviously affected overall due to the limitations / permutations of their temporary home (they were / are actively planning / constructing a rural homestead far and away from our suburban enclave).

After their departure (they hung out with us for about 90 minutes), I hoped forlornly that they'd take up our offer to visit our church, especially considering the Xmas season being upon us.  

They didn't.

What we did learn was how vital it was for the majority of the clan to escape their rental home via weekend deer hunting treks to south MS (it's important to know that both children wore camouflage attire to our dinner party).  

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The hardest part about this failed attempt to gain newfound friends was knowing that it wasn't us.  It was their circumstances that kept them from connecting therein.  For that "cursed" house simply had run its accelerated course as it pertained to both their immediate and long-term outlook.  And it did so via being a constant reminder of their transient status combined with its less-than-ideal living conditions for themselves + their pets.  

Hence, we felt unfairly (though only tangentially) sort of responsible - by proxy - of their discomfort in spite of our attempts to be neighborly.  

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Samson Society is well represented by this family's temporary plight.  It's a (hopefully) pivot point to a better place.   

But what's interesting therein is, in terms of the initial Samson Society intro (of yourself), it's the urination that's most vital versus any semblance of presentation performance (formalities).  And some of us are better at this than others.  

I love this...

In closing, remember where you once were, my Samson brother, when you first stepped foot into a meeting.  As such, encourage newbies to pee, all the more, 'till they've fully relieved themselves.  And this may take months, if not years, of being listened to.  For their troubles didn't happen overnight, and it will take time for their permanent / new home to be planned / constructed.   

As such, love them where they're at, patiently waiting for them to realize / recognize that you were once right there too.   

Recommended Reading (Credited: Mr. Drew Boa of Husband Material)