Angie and I have been married 23 years today.
We started out this Saturday doing what is reserved for husband / wife only within the marriage bed.
Angie runs her own business out of our home. For those of you who can comprehend what it's like living with a wife who has this much responsibility (on top of being the mother of my three children), there's way too much for her to realistically manage, yet she somehow, through God's grace, keeps all of the various plates spinning. Oftentimes, she's up well before the sun rises to get a few hours of work in prior to engaging with all of us around 6 AM. Now that school is out for the summer, she and I are both seeing some workload reprieve, but due to the fact that Angie's business is her responsibility solely, she's still on task most of the time.
What's amazing to me is that she's not forgotten the Rob of 23 years ago. Though I'm nothing like I was then, she remembers that new husband and how her body responded to his advances.
Sexual relations for middle-aged husbands can routinely be about them "getting off". I've heard men talk about feeling as if they're essentially masturbating whilst having intercourse. For Angie and I, there have been some difficult seasons of less than stellar sex, but overall, we've been enriched and subsequently grown closer together as husband / wife.
That's so sad to me, and I do understand that many, many middle-aged wives forget the husbands of their youth (if they ever knew him at all). From there, they might look to porn or romance novels or simply close off their sexuality completely. I would argue that at point, she's likely doing more harm than good, unless her husband is physically disabled / has no libido.
I'm blessed that Angie hasn't gone down that path. Plus, I'm blessed to have this special day to acknowledge this.
The Bible proclaims a wife's body to be the property of her husband's and vice versa. That initial season of sexual play whilst newlyweds, may its intensity and brevity never be forgotten as she and I continue to work to harken back to who we once were and yet in so many ways still are.
Saturday, June 1, 2019
Monday, May 27, 2019
Why Aren't Black Men Involved In Samson Society?
Many years ago, for Rob, the only resource for pornography was printed material that was sold at franchise booksellers. During that particular era of analog smut, I would haunt the Jackson Books-A-Million store in order to purchase my fix every 60 days of so. Now, my go to wasn't typical for men, therefore it was even more difficult for me to step up to that counter and address the clerk for what I knew I shouldn't purchase but in many ways, desperately needed.
I remember one occasion distinctly because this particular clerk had the audacity to mock me after the transaction was complete.
This young black woman chided me by saying "Now, you tell all of your friends to come in here as well and see me."
Who she was referring to were my gay friends. For you see, I had asked to purchase a Playgirl magazine.
-------------------------
I've only known of one black man to attend any Samson Society meetings. I had the privilege of talking with him extensively at one particular after-meeting. He disclosed a lot to me during that time, but one thing that stood out was his revealing to me how he'd been belittled as gay by women he'd dated. And the way this occurred was simply through casual dialogue. The women literally belittled this guy by accusing him of being gay based on what they'd observed of his demeanor / mannerisms over some set period of time. And this was in spite of the fact that he was sexually active with all of these women during their dating relationships.
To return to what happened to me in Books-A-Million, you'll recall, I asked for that Playgirl magazine, and when I did, the clerk heard me speak. Not a whole lot, mind you, but enough for her to hear a man's voice that didn't in the slightest resonate as hyper masculine.
I cannot tell you how many times I've ordered food at a fast-food restaurant by engaging with a black female, and that female immediately smirking in response to both the pitch and inflections of my voice. In fact, most of the time when I'm in McDonald's, I'm intentional about speaking very softly in order to minimize the auditory impact.
-------------------------
Overall, Samson Society is about as gay as it gets despite the fact that it has nothing to do with men being romantically / sexually involved with each other. What I mean by that is Samson Society is first and foremost about building platonic relationships between men that ultimately will provide some semblance of accountability to said men.
I believe many, many men choose to shun men's ministry altogether due to this (including Samson Society).
But I believe black men, in particular, exhibit zero confidence in themselves in this regard, therefore they absolutely will not invest themselves in any semblance of men's ministry out of fear. And that fear is tied directly to their perceived sexuality (by black women).
To me, as a white man, having a black woman attempt to humiliate me by labeling me as gay does little harm in the end. Sure, it's belittling and awkward, but I'm frankly not interested in her view / opinion of Rob. Although, if I was a black man, I do believe, the tables would be turned in her favor.
It is a travesty that Samson Society (as well as most every other men's ministry I've been involved in) is white through and through. Where do black men go for support that in no way, shape or form hints at homosexual feelings / relations (the basketball court / barber shop)? What a paradox black men find themselves dealing with! The one thing that can provide so much healing is off limits from the standpoint of potentially de-masculinizing him under the premise of it appearing homosexual in nature / character.
I remember one occasion distinctly because this particular clerk had the audacity to mock me after the transaction was complete.
This young black woman chided me by saying "Now, you tell all of your friends to come in here as well and see me."
Who she was referring to were my gay friends. For you see, I had asked to purchase a Playgirl magazine.
-------------------------
I've only known of one black man to attend any Samson Society meetings. I had the privilege of talking with him extensively at one particular after-meeting. He disclosed a lot to me during that time, but one thing that stood out was his revealing to me how he'd been belittled as gay by women he'd dated. And the way this occurred was simply through casual dialogue. The women literally belittled this guy by accusing him of being gay based on what they'd observed of his demeanor / mannerisms over some set period of time. And this was in spite of the fact that he was sexually active with all of these women during their dating relationships.
To return to what happened to me in Books-A-Million, you'll recall, I asked for that Playgirl magazine, and when I did, the clerk heard me speak. Not a whole lot, mind you, but enough for her to hear a man's voice that didn't in the slightest resonate as hyper masculine.
I cannot tell you how many times I've ordered food at a fast-food restaurant by engaging with a black female, and that female immediately smirking in response to both the pitch and inflections of my voice. In fact, most of the time when I'm in McDonald's, I'm intentional about speaking very softly in order to minimize the auditory impact.
-------------------------
Overall, Samson Society is about as gay as it gets despite the fact that it has nothing to do with men being romantically / sexually involved with each other. What I mean by that is Samson Society is first and foremost about building platonic relationships between men that ultimately will provide some semblance of accountability to said men.
I believe many, many men choose to shun men's ministry altogether due to this (including Samson Society).
But I believe black men, in particular, exhibit zero confidence in themselves in this regard, therefore they absolutely will not invest themselves in any semblance of men's ministry out of fear. And that fear is tied directly to their perceived sexuality (by black women).
To me, as a white man, having a black woman attempt to humiliate me by labeling me as gay does little harm in the end. Sure, it's belittling and awkward, but I'm frankly not interested in her view / opinion of Rob. Although, if I was a black man, I do believe, the tables would be turned in her favor.
It is a travesty that Samson Society (as well as most every other men's ministry I've been involved in) is white through and through. Where do black men go for support that in no way, shape or form hints at homosexual feelings / relations (the basketball court / barber shop)? What a paradox black men find themselves dealing with! The one thing that can provide so much healing is off limits from the standpoint of potentially de-masculinizing him under the premise of it appearing homosexual in nature / character.
Saturday, May 25, 2019
Pretend That You Like Me / Vicarious Attraction
Salacious photography hit Rob like an emotional sledgehammer to the head as a middle schooler. The drugstore periodicals is where I encountered these firstly, and these images weren't on the top shelf or packaged in opaque plastic. These were "run of the mill" exercise magazines, positioned as "How To" guides on how to look super strong, healthy, and ultimately, physically perfect. Prior to that encounter, I'd honed my imagination on comic books, TV, and film from the era of the '80s. Our family was no different than other middle class white nuclears. We gorged ourselves on the newly introduced cable television each day and ran to the moviehouse to see the latest film on the weekends, never having any truthful idea what we were introducing ourselves to 'till the credits rolled.
Like a young screenwriter, I took those salacious exercise magazine photographs and added a sexualized narrative to them, and typically that narrative involved me being pursued. This brought on feelings of worthiness and value. It was overwhelmingly effective at counteracting my low adolescent self-esteem. Plus, I was in complete control of the fantasy, therefore no one could come in and complicate these relationships or cut them short.
As a college student, I continued in this vein, but at this point, I relied solely on my imagination to fuel these sexual fantasies, though the themes remained the same.
-------------------------
This past fall, I attended the Samson Society retreat in Eva, Tennessee. On Saturday, Mr. Nate Larkin challenged us to illustrate some specific scenarios (past or present) that represented thematically a certain portion of our story. Afterwards, we paired up with 3 or 4 men who were close at hand to discuss our individual work. One Samson man in our group was in his mid 50s, and upon sharing one of his illustrations, mentioned how difficult it was for him to believe he was at all physically / sexually attractive. Therefore, he rescinded to Internet porn as an escape which fueled this notion that fantasy lust was justifiable due to his need for self-love.
Now, this man was by no means unattractive physically. Nor was he physically disabled or of low intelligence. That's what made this confession so shocking to me.
The industry that sells salacious imagery to us, no matter the format, are slight of hand illusionist who indirectly evangelize self-hatred. Overall, their product fuels this negativity whilst consumed, but particularly within individuals who are highly visual (like me).
--------------------------
Years ago, I was watching a daytime television talk show that featured a handful of young beautiful women alongside their mothers. The premise of this particular show was mother / daughter support relative to the daughters being recently photographed naked in Playboy magazine. At a certain point during the interviews, the host stopped to take questions from the studio audience. One very brave man caught the attention of the show host prior to asking the following question of the Playboy Playmates, "Do you understand why it is that mostly men purchase Playboy magazine?"
The camera filming the ladies on the stage abruptly captured their awkward silence before this man answered his own query bluntly.
"They do so in order to masturbate to the photos."
Now that same camera zoomed into these beautiful women's faces squirming in disgust, all the while looking at each other as if they'd now been exposed to the reality of their monumental regret.
-------------------------
I am convinced that the majority of our consumable entertainment culture is fueled by nothing more than propaganda, subtly telling consumers, "You're a worthless piece of shit because you don't measure up to what you're seeing here onscreen, therefore choose to emotionally invest yourself within these images / story just as everyone else does. To do so will make you feel better about your pathetic self."
For so many of us here in the western world, having been sold this bill of goods since childhood, it certainly has made a lasting impression.
What can be done to break free from these lies? Choose now to STOP consuming them.
Like a young screenwriter, I took those salacious exercise magazine photographs and added a sexualized narrative to them, and typically that narrative involved me being pursued. This brought on feelings of worthiness and value. It was overwhelmingly effective at counteracting my low adolescent self-esteem. Plus, I was in complete control of the fantasy, therefore no one could come in and complicate these relationships or cut them short.
As a college student, I continued in this vein, but at this point, I relied solely on my imagination to fuel these sexual fantasies, though the themes remained the same.
-------------------------
This past fall, I attended the Samson Society retreat in Eva, Tennessee. On Saturday, Mr. Nate Larkin challenged us to illustrate some specific scenarios (past or present) that represented thematically a certain portion of our story. Afterwards, we paired up with 3 or 4 men who were close at hand to discuss our individual work. One Samson man in our group was in his mid 50s, and upon sharing one of his illustrations, mentioned how difficult it was for him to believe he was at all physically / sexually attractive. Therefore, he rescinded to Internet porn as an escape which fueled this notion that fantasy lust was justifiable due to his need for self-love.
Now, this man was by no means unattractive physically. Nor was he physically disabled or of low intelligence. That's what made this confession so shocking to me.
The industry that sells salacious imagery to us, no matter the format, are slight of hand illusionist who indirectly evangelize self-hatred. Overall, their product fuels this negativity whilst consumed, but particularly within individuals who are highly visual (like me).
--------------------------
Years ago, I was watching a daytime television talk show that featured a handful of young beautiful women alongside their mothers. The premise of this particular show was mother / daughter support relative to the daughters being recently photographed naked in Playboy magazine. At a certain point during the interviews, the host stopped to take questions from the studio audience. One very brave man caught the attention of the show host prior to asking the following question of the Playboy Playmates, "Do you understand why it is that mostly men purchase Playboy magazine?"
The camera filming the ladies on the stage abruptly captured their awkward silence before this man answered his own query bluntly.
"They do so in order to masturbate to the photos."
Now that same camera zoomed into these beautiful women's faces squirming in disgust, all the while looking at each other as if they'd now been exposed to the reality of their monumental regret.
-------------------------
I am convinced that the majority of our consumable entertainment culture is fueled by nothing more than propaganda, subtly telling consumers, "You're a worthless piece of shit because you don't measure up to what you're seeing here onscreen, therefore choose to emotionally invest yourself within these images / story just as everyone else does. To do so will make you feel better about your pathetic self."
For so many of us here in the western world, having been sold this bill of goods since childhood, it certainly has made a lasting impression.
What can be done to break free from these lies? Choose now to STOP consuming them.
The Religious Wife & Her Husband of Ill Repute
Religious wives who choose to remain with husbands who've participated in sexual sin, by definition, may very well do so for the sole purpose of persecuting him for what he's either admitted to taking part in or getting caught in taking part in.
Some of these women can be classified as viragos. I've seen it, and essentially, from my point of view, it's her exploiting a marital relationship in order for her husband to suffer by her hand "'till death do us part".
We all enjoy watching others suffer. It's one of the reasons behind our fascination with news / current events television. When you're "in the know" relative to others pain, either through journalism or gossip, it can instantly seem to elevate one's sense of well-being by gratifying that part of us that detest self-examination (by distraction).
A religious wife may say, "I don't know the you who's done these things", or she simply may stay tight-lipped about the entire situation, to the point of completely disregarding the man's need for recovery (through Samson Society or otherwise).
Religion is tangible. There is order there, and this plays into a wife's need for security. But religion, as we know from Scripture, is empty / fruitless. It promotes pride which is the ultimate demerit against our Heavenly Father.
--------------------------
Now there's another piece to this, and that's the sexual side of these couple's marriages.
Religion in no way promotes pleasurable activity within the marriage bed because the emphasis is always on moral / spiritual superiority coupled with an almost repugnant view of the flesh. There's plenty of instruction on obedience and holiness, but none related to oral sex, heavy petting, or butt play because the two simply cannot coexist. Oral sex, heavy petting, and butt play promote vulnerability and shameless physical pleasure between husband and wife. These awesome activities promote unity by helping marriages heal systematically as they endure the repetitive grind.
But religion isn't interested in healing. Not really. Because when healing occurs, there's that loss of power and control over the failed spouse and that intoxicating sense of moral superiority / opportunity for persecution.
Marriage is a joining of two into one. One flesh. Husband and wife. Man and woman. It's a amazingly complex, supernatural work. There are Biblical standards for marriages to end in divorce. It's all written in Scripture, but if a couple chooses to work through sexual sin, the scenario I've described here must be avoided at all costs. Otherwise, you'll simply end up with a husband who's walking through life with a boot on his neck. And that's in no way in line with the respect he needs to thrive as his wife's husband.
Some of these women can be classified as viragos. I've seen it, and essentially, from my point of view, it's her exploiting a marital relationship in order for her husband to suffer by her hand "'till death do us part".
We all enjoy watching others suffer. It's one of the reasons behind our fascination with news / current events television. When you're "in the know" relative to others pain, either through journalism or gossip, it can instantly seem to elevate one's sense of well-being by gratifying that part of us that detest self-examination (by distraction).
A religious wife may say, "I don't know the you who's done these things", or she simply may stay tight-lipped about the entire situation, to the point of completely disregarding the man's need for recovery (through Samson Society or otherwise).
Religion is tangible. There is order there, and this plays into a wife's need for security. But religion, as we know from Scripture, is empty / fruitless. It promotes pride which is the ultimate demerit against our Heavenly Father.
--------------------------
Now there's another piece to this, and that's the sexual side of these couple's marriages.
Religion in no way promotes pleasurable activity within the marriage bed because the emphasis is always on moral / spiritual superiority coupled with an almost repugnant view of the flesh. There's plenty of instruction on obedience and holiness, but none related to oral sex, heavy petting, or butt play because the two simply cannot coexist. Oral sex, heavy petting, and butt play promote vulnerability and shameless physical pleasure between husband and wife. These awesome activities promote unity by helping marriages heal systematically as they endure the repetitive grind.
But religion isn't interested in healing. Not really. Because when healing occurs, there's that loss of power and control over the failed spouse and that intoxicating sense of moral superiority / opportunity for persecution.
Marriage is a joining of two into one. One flesh. Husband and wife. Man and woman. It's a amazingly complex, supernatural work. There are Biblical standards for marriages to end in divorce. It's all written in Scripture, but if a couple chooses to work through sexual sin, the scenario I've described here must be avoided at all costs. Otherwise, you'll simply end up with a husband who's walking through life with a boot on his neck. And that's in no way in line with the respect he needs to thrive as his wife's husband.
Friday, May 24, 2019
A Bare Chested Bible Teaching
For the majority of my teen years, my youth pastor was female. She was single initially, but within the first year or so of her tenure, Cindy married the nicest attorney on planet Earth. At the time, they were both in their mid-30s. From what I recall, years earlier (prior to her being employed by our church), she'd come very close to marrying another man. She was fortunate to have had second thoughts due to the fact that his replacement couldn't have been a better fit for her.
My youth pastor was a force of nature in terms of her presence and personality, and she was very savvy in how she pushed the envelope topically in spite of her filling a ministerial role that was almost universally appointed to men...at least here in the deep South.
Keep in mind this was during the late '80s, and our youth ministry was undoubtedly the largest in the state of Mississippi. It had the resources / budget / facilities coupled with a dynamic, boundlessly energetic lady leading the way. She was literally a powerhouse. To this day, I've never witnessed a youth pastor with more zeal, compassion, and leadership skill. Cindy was literally larger than life to all of us. Needless to say, even back then, I knew I was part of something very special, and what a tremendous positive impact it made to not only my faith but my self-esteem! Our youth pastor, though she wasn't perfect, loved Rob and all of his quirks. And because of that, I was endeared to her as well as her husband despite my "choosing to exist in the background" approach. In particular, I'll always be indebted to her encouragement relative to my vocal skillset and subsequently, the many opportunities that were presented to me to utilize those talents there in church.
Surprisingly, this same woman eventually chose to lead our church's college ministry for a handful of years as well. This, I'll have to admit, was a little odd. It wasn't like First Baptist Church's budget was strapped for cash, and therefore couldn't afford to hire someone. Nevertheless, she also chose to take on this role, though it was soon obvious to almost everyone that she simply couldn't effectively translate her rigidly programmatic approach over to the older, more sophisticated / independently-minded college crowd.
There's no doubt too that college-age students are looking for substance. Meat if you will, if they choose to partake of church during this season of their lives. And that substance needs to be based in not only a thorough understanding of God's Word but a deep respect for it. It's not that Cindy didn't embody that statement, but it was impossible to not see her as a youth pastor first and foremost.
Thankfully, this is where her husband, Bill, at least in terms of her ministry, strategically complemented her.
Bill was in many ways the exact opposite of Cindy's persona, though he was no doubt similarly intelligent and articulate. He was the inevitable representative of a shadow (cast by her), until opportunity presented itself (on occasion) for him too to surprisingly flex his (just as adept) risk-taking muscles. And at times, he did so in the most unexpectedly manly ways.
-------------------------
I believe it was the summer after my sophomore year at Mississippi State. I was home for those two months, therefore I found myself fully engaged with my home church's college ministry. I remember participating in a rafting retreat somewhere in eastern Tennessee with this group and having such fun!
Afterwards, we returned to wherever it was that we were staying in order to rest up for our journey home the following day. From there, my memory is a bit fuzzy, but I believe Bill decided to take it upon himself to lead a Bible study to those who wished to participate. Therefore, a handful of us gathered together in some sort of common space or lobby, neatly tucked away in a quiet corner, anticipating being lead by Bible teaching Bill.
Physically, Bill was a small framed man. His wife, Cindy, was average height for a female, and he was only slightly taller than she. Bill, when he was assisting his wife with ministry at our church (in whatever role she put him in), was usually decked out in a dress shirt and slacks, the typical First Baptist Church uniform. What I'd never noticed though was despite his small stature, he was not, by definition, lean.
But this became readily apparent during this aforementioned rafting retreat Bible study due to the fact that he executed it bare chested.
Now, it wasn't like he was wearing dress slacks and no shirt. Everyone was simply lounging around in shorts and t-shirts, therefore he was as well, except of course, without his shirt on.
The Bible study wasn't brief. Bill was an excellent communicator / student of God's word. He taught with skill and passion, therefore us being typical sponge-like college students, we soaked in every word, asking lots of questions along the way. I remember I sat adjacent to Bill, and suffice to say, it took a few long minutes for me to get over my shock at seeing this man's nipples in living color.
Today, men's bodies are celebrated if they're hyper muscular, lean and hairless, and if you have any semblance of a six-pack, you're considered sexy and to be envied. This was not the case back in the late '80s / early '90s. During this era, men within photographic media didn't model themselves with their hyper muscular, hairless action figure bods. It simply wasn't the norm as it is today.
I am convinced the reason Bill taught Scripture to us bare chested is he needed to prove to himself and to us that he was more than what we'd known of him up to that point in time. In other words, he needed to be seen deeper than what we'd had the privilege of seeing prior, therefore he saw an appropriate opportunity with an appropriate age-group and took advantage of it.
[One thing I haven't mentioned is Bill, at the time, was teaching collegiate law classes (I did mention he was an attorney), therefore he understood the monumental maturity levels (on average) between secondary versus higher-ed students.]
From that day forward, my respect for this man increased tremendously, and of course, looking back, I'm grateful to have been a part of such an important reckoning. A reckoning where our understanding / respect of a cherished male leader expanded circumstantially.
My youth pastor was a force of nature in terms of her presence and personality, and she was very savvy in how she pushed the envelope topically in spite of her filling a ministerial role that was almost universally appointed to men...at least here in the deep South.
Keep in mind this was during the late '80s, and our youth ministry was undoubtedly the largest in the state of Mississippi. It had the resources / budget / facilities coupled with a dynamic, boundlessly energetic lady leading the way. She was literally a powerhouse. To this day, I've never witnessed a youth pastor with more zeal, compassion, and leadership skill. Cindy was literally larger than life to all of us. Needless to say, even back then, I knew I was part of something very special, and what a tremendous positive impact it made to not only my faith but my self-esteem! Our youth pastor, though she wasn't perfect, loved Rob and all of his quirks. And because of that, I was endeared to her as well as her husband despite my "choosing to exist in the background" approach. In particular, I'll always be indebted to her encouragement relative to my vocal skillset and subsequently, the many opportunities that were presented to me to utilize those talents there in church.
Surprisingly, this same woman eventually chose to lead our church's college ministry for a handful of years as well. This, I'll have to admit, was a little odd. It wasn't like First Baptist Church's budget was strapped for cash, and therefore couldn't afford to hire someone. Nevertheless, she also chose to take on this role, though it was soon obvious to almost everyone that she simply couldn't effectively translate her rigidly programmatic approach over to the older, more sophisticated / independently-minded college crowd.
There's no doubt too that college-age students are looking for substance. Meat if you will, if they choose to partake of church during this season of their lives. And that substance needs to be based in not only a thorough understanding of God's Word but a deep respect for it. It's not that Cindy didn't embody that statement, but it was impossible to not see her as a youth pastor first and foremost.
Thankfully, this is where her husband, Bill, at least in terms of her ministry, strategically complemented her.
Bill was in many ways the exact opposite of Cindy's persona, though he was no doubt similarly intelligent and articulate. He was the inevitable representative of a shadow (cast by her), until opportunity presented itself (on occasion) for him too to surprisingly flex his (just as adept) risk-taking muscles. And at times, he did so in the most unexpectedly manly ways.
-------------------------
I believe it was the summer after my sophomore year at Mississippi State. I was home for those two months, therefore I found myself fully engaged with my home church's college ministry. I remember participating in a rafting retreat somewhere in eastern Tennessee with this group and having such fun!
Afterwards, we returned to wherever it was that we were staying in order to rest up for our journey home the following day. From there, my memory is a bit fuzzy, but I believe Bill decided to take it upon himself to lead a Bible study to those who wished to participate. Therefore, a handful of us gathered together in some sort of common space or lobby, neatly tucked away in a quiet corner, anticipating being lead by Bible teaching Bill.
Physically, Bill was a small framed man. His wife, Cindy, was average height for a female, and he was only slightly taller than she. Bill, when he was assisting his wife with ministry at our church (in whatever role she put him in), was usually decked out in a dress shirt and slacks, the typical First Baptist Church uniform. What I'd never noticed though was despite his small stature, he was not, by definition, lean.
But this became readily apparent during this aforementioned rafting retreat Bible study due to the fact that he executed it bare chested.
Now, it wasn't like he was wearing dress slacks and no shirt. Everyone was simply lounging around in shorts and t-shirts, therefore he was as well, except of course, without his shirt on.
The Bible study wasn't brief. Bill was an excellent communicator / student of God's word. He taught with skill and passion, therefore us being typical sponge-like college students, we soaked in every word, asking lots of questions along the way. I remember I sat adjacent to Bill, and suffice to say, it took a few long minutes for me to get over my shock at seeing this man's nipples in living color.
And I must say, Bill had (at the time) an enviable bod of any present day guy, with even (if I remember correctly 25+ years ago) a defined six-pack, which made this event that much more unique. Who'd a thunk?
Today, men's bodies are celebrated if they're hyper muscular, lean and hairless, and if you have any semblance of a six-pack, you're considered sexy and to be envied. This was not the case back in the late '80s / early '90s. During this era, men within photographic media didn't model themselves with their hyper muscular, hairless action figure bods. It simply wasn't the norm as it is today.
I am convinced the reason Bill taught Scripture to us bare chested is he needed to prove to himself and to us that he was more than what we'd known of him up to that point in time. In other words, he needed to be seen deeper than what we'd had the privilege of seeing prior, therefore he saw an appropriate opportunity with an appropriate age-group and took advantage of it.
[One thing I haven't mentioned is Bill, at the time, was teaching collegiate law classes (I did mention he was an attorney), therefore he understood the monumental maturity levels (on average) between secondary versus higher-ed students.]
From that day forward, my respect for this man increased tremendously, and of course, looking back, I'm grateful to have been a part of such an important reckoning. A reckoning where our understanding / respect of a cherished male leader expanded circumstantially.
Tuesday, May 21, 2019
"Has Jesus Ever Masturbated?"
I'm no theologian, but no, Of Course Not.
And neither has your father or your grandfather. In fact, the only time they've ever used their hands to touch their weiners was to position it to take a piss or to scratch it. Even in the shower, they refrain from soaping up "down there" except with a washcloth.
Only you have been "guilty" of masturbating. Hence, your asking this perverted question.
And neither has your father or your grandfather. In fact, the only time they've ever used their hands to touch their weiners was to position it to take a piss or to scratch it. Even in the shower, they refrain from soaping up "down there" except with a washcloth.
Only you have been "guilty" of masturbating. Hence, your asking this perverted question.
Monday, May 20, 2019
"...& besides, men don't send each other letters."
The first time I became acutely aware that I was living in a state that was less than appreciated (national reputation) was my junior year in high school. My two best friends were both one year older than me, and both made a point to use their college career as an opportunity to exit Mississippi. One went to Colorado for her undergraduate degree and the other went to Tennessee, and neither ever returned permanently. In fact, one of the two's parents eventually moved away despite the fact that they were well into their middle years. I remember feeling like a leper for not buying into their higher education exit strategies from the standpoint of the obvious implied rejection by non-association. I had no desire to leave Mississippi. In fact, the notion of attending college (in state) over 2 hours away from my home (by car) amounted to plenty 'nough geographic separation for Rob from his home.
So what makes Mississippians distinct? People that live here are generous. It's their defining attribute. If you were to meld every Mississippian together to create one individual and stack him up against his melded counterparts from his 49 united cohorts, none would be more generous than he. Now, there would be savvier melded states, more intelligent, more creative, more refined, more ambitious and so forth, but none more generous than Mississippi. And of course, generosity is in no way revered culturally. On the other hand, Mississippi is brimming with deadbeats and the marginalized, and these are mainly men whose outlook is short-term. All of this combined can make for a weird assemblage that looks on the surface to many as either unworkable / unsustainable for the long-term. Hence, our tendency to eek / freak out newcomers.
Neither of my high school friends were generous individuals and the 'rents of the one who also moved out of Mississippi were cut from the same cloth as their daughter, therefore it's understandable that they would want out. I get that now, but back then, it hurt to be disparaged for being at peace with my home. That being said, I do not hold in disregard anyone who looks down on our state. There is much here that demands an acquired taste.
To me, generosity is no more noteworthy than any other attribute from the standpoint of being a cultural identifier. It takes all kinds to make up the great US of A, but know this, living amongst people who overall hold generosity up, does make for a sweet existence. It's really nice to be cared for and to be treated well overall as you go about the inevitable mundane routine of life.
We have friends who just recently saw their oldest son and daughter in-law return to Mississippi from living out of state for +/-5 years. Having been reared here, their experiencing the absence of this spirit of generousness within another place caused regret to set in, therefore they've since returned. They're not sure how they'll make it work vocationally, but they're proud to be back home.
-------------------------
Years ago, I had the privilege of meeting a new neighbor who took the initiative to thank me for some volunteer work I'd signed up for in our 'hood. He was a bachelor, we were both in our early 30s, and he made no qualms about loving his somewhat new home here in Mississippi despite the fact that he was a Texan by birth.
This was a first for me, meeting a transplant who adored the Magnolia state. This guy actually would take vacation / weekend road trips on his own throughout various regions of Mississippi. I can remember him showing me various photo albums he'd created containing snapshots of iconic Mississippi buildings and so forth, many of which I'd had the privilege of knowing of throughout my life due to my heritage.
So here we were. A new friendship. I was excited! Especially considering his admiration for my home state.
But then I decided to send him a very personal letter...
------------------------
I can still remember my follow up telephone call after sending my correspondence. His words (some of which make up the title to this post) stung.
Essentially, I had disclosed too much, too fast about my story, therefore in lieu of me wanting to "efficiently" mature the friendship forward, he felt lambasted instead, therefore he immediately rejected me outright on the grounds that spending any further time with Rob would "make him too uncomfortable". Ouch.
I don't think I'll ever forget the emotional fallout from that short-lived friendship, but one thing positive that I did learn from it was to never discount my own platonic needs. There had been plenty of friendships up to that point that were not unlike the ones I had in high school with my none too generous friends. These friendships were characterized as being surface, shallow. They were built on routine or circumstance. A shared Sunday School class or work setting, etc. I'd grown tired of those for they offered me nothing except an opportunity to be annoyed at my own pretending to have my life put together expertly.
-------------------------
I have emotional needs that I want met via my friendships with other men (& so do you). Samson Society offers a wellspring of guys who I've found are willing to work towards meeting those needs. I've told people before, and I'll say it again, that Samson Society tends to attract some of the most generous guys you'll likely ever meet. They tend to look for opportunities to care for their brothers in Christ as they also in tandem look out for their best interests.
Is it perfect? Of course not. Is there sometimes disappointment? Yep. But, it's not a two-man group. There's scale here for those inevitable relational imperfections, and even if you choose to communicate with a paper and pen (like I tend to do), you'll likely find your place eventually. Thanks be to God for Samson Society.
So what makes Mississippians distinct? People that live here are generous. It's their defining attribute. If you were to meld every Mississippian together to create one individual and stack him up against his melded counterparts from his 49 united cohorts, none would be more generous than he. Now, there would be savvier melded states, more intelligent, more creative, more refined, more ambitious and so forth, but none more generous than Mississippi. And of course, generosity is in no way revered culturally. On the other hand, Mississippi is brimming with deadbeats and the marginalized, and these are mainly men whose outlook is short-term. All of this combined can make for a weird assemblage that looks on the surface to many as either unworkable / unsustainable for the long-term. Hence, our tendency to eek / freak out newcomers.
Neither of my high school friends were generous individuals and the 'rents of the one who also moved out of Mississippi were cut from the same cloth as their daughter, therefore it's understandable that they would want out. I get that now, but back then, it hurt to be disparaged for being at peace with my home. That being said, I do not hold in disregard anyone who looks down on our state. There is much here that demands an acquired taste.
To me, generosity is no more noteworthy than any other attribute from the standpoint of being a cultural identifier. It takes all kinds to make up the great US of A, but know this, living amongst people who overall hold generosity up, does make for a sweet existence. It's really nice to be cared for and to be treated well overall as you go about the inevitable mundane routine of life.
We have friends who just recently saw their oldest son and daughter in-law return to Mississippi from living out of state for +/-5 years. Having been reared here, their experiencing the absence of this spirit of generousness within another place caused regret to set in, therefore they've since returned. They're not sure how they'll make it work vocationally, but they're proud to be back home.
-------------------------
Years ago, I had the privilege of meeting a new neighbor who took the initiative to thank me for some volunteer work I'd signed up for in our 'hood. He was a bachelor, we were both in our early 30s, and he made no qualms about loving his somewhat new home here in Mississippi despite the fact that he was a Texan by birth.
This was a first for me, meeting a transplant who adored the Magnolia state. This guy actually would take vacation / weekend road trips on his own throughout various regions of Mississippi. I can remember him showing me various photo albums he'd created containing snapshots of iconic Mississippi buildings and so forth, many of which I'd had the privilege of knowing of throughout my life due to my heritage.
So here we were. A new friendship. I was excited! Especially considering his admiration for my home state.
But then I decided to send him a very personal letter...
------------------------
I can still remember my follow up telephone call after sending my correspondence. His words (some of which make up the title to this post) stung.
Essentially, I had disclosed too much, too fast about my story, therefore in lieu of me wanting to "efficiently" mature the friendship forward, he felt lambasted instead, therefore he immediately rejected me outright on the grounds that spending any further time with Rob would "make him too uncomfortable". Ouch.
I don't think I'll ever forget the emotional fallout from that short-lived friendship, but one thing positive that I did learn from it was to never discount my own platonic needs. There had been plenty of friendships up to that point that were not unlike the ones I had in high school with my none too generous friends. These friendships were characterized as being surface, shallow. They were built on routine or circumstance. A shared Sunday School class or work setting, etc. I'd grown tired of those for they offered me nothing except an opportunity to be annoyed at my own pretending to have my life put together expertly.
-------------------------
I have emotional needs that I want met via my friendships with other men (& so do you). Samson Society offers a wellspring of guys who I've found are willing to work towards meeting those needs. I've told people before, and I'll say it again, that Samson Society tends to attract some of the most generous guys you'll likely ever meet. They tend to look for opportunities to care for their brothers in Christ as they also in tandem look out for their best interests.
Is it perfect? Of course not. Is there sometimes disappointment? Yep. But, it's not a two-man group. There's scale here for those inevitable relational imperfections, and even if you choose to communicate with a paper and pen (like I tend to do), you'll likely find your place eventually. Thanks be to God for Samson Society.
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