Back in high school, I lived a double life. I enjoyed spending time with my friends and the youth group at my church. But I also spent time looking at porn, questioning how I fit in with guys, and lacking any strong sense of masculinity. The summer after my junior year, I decided to volunteer at a nearby camp. Having never attended this camp -- or any camp – as a camper, I had only vague expectations for my first week. It was a Christian camp so what could be bad about it, right? Driving down that gravel road, though, all the fears and insecurities came rushing at me.
What would it look like for my distant tribe to be gathered together? Didn't God long to change our shame into praise and renown? "Gather us," I prayed. I prayed that my scattered and lost tribe would be drawn together, our fortunes restored before our eyes. It was a prayer for my own benefit, but also for all of us.
All these ups and downs often caused me emotional pain. I had to take risks rather than stay safe and comfortable. My SSA made me feel weak and ineffective around all these straight guys. These painful things tested my friendship with James, too.
I couldn't be like these people. They seemed like the antithesis of everything I stood for. Finding out that the Bible forbade homosexual sex only fueled my self-righteous anger. To assert my masculinity and avoid being labeled gay at all costs, I joined my other straight male classmates in mocking gay people.
Most of these cuddling experiences transcend the physical and begin to feel more spiritual. We aren’t just touching bodies; we’re touching souls.
Why is it whenever we get so comfortable with our good lives, there's always something that shakes things up?
Some of the happiest periods of my life took place during college and grad school. I lived with a group of eight guys, and they were the greatest friends one could ask for. As their dating relationships grew more serious, I felt myself going down on their list of priorities. Some of those friends got married. And our friendships effectively ended.
Knowing I'm still loved and accepted when I bare the deepest parts of me has meant so much. Through these friendships, I've grown more confident in myself.
I never sought out pornography; it found me. With technology these days, it was practically inevitable. It all started with soft-core pornography.
The other guys told me about the Korean spa and how those experiences helped them. This sounded like something right down my alley.