Tom welcomes back another OG YOB author, Matt, to talk about how coronavirus life is affecting him on the other side of the country. There’s been some tragedy but also some hope. Tom also promises to follow in Matt’s literal footsteps and go longboarding very soon.
Have you ever felt lonely within your sexuality? Do you choose loneliness or does loneliness choose you? Extroverted or introverted, do you embrace regular solitude, treating it as a spiritual practice? Join Tom, Ryan, and Jacob for a discussion on the divergence of loneliness and solitude. We talk about the healthy and not-so-healthy ways we cope with loneliness and how we seek out solitude. Additionally, we talk about the dynamic of living alone or with others as single gay/SSA men, forecasting our living situations for the decades to come.
It often feels like a self-fulfilling cycle of a formula: that as soon as I praise God, when I repent and I'm again "right" with Him, I'm back on an inevitable trajectory toward porn and promiscuity and the dark desires of my heart.
Our community is like a family. These past few years I've grown such a huge family, far beyond my biological one. It's like I have cousins and, yes, brothers living in cities all over the world – family who would offer me a couch if ever I passed through town. That is an incredible feeling.
It was an unfamiliar city on the other side of the world, and not one soul knew who I was and what I was about. For the first time in my life I felt free, unrestricted to do anything and be anything I wanted to be. What will I do? Where will I go? Where will God take me? Who's God again?
It's an undoubtedly difficult season for many in our community, and we talk about singleness during the holidays: the disconnect, the loneliness, and the finding of hope and joy when hope and joy may feel so far away. Tom, Ryan, and Jacob share their stories of holidays past and present, answering some listener questions along the way, including the concept of spending the holidays with chosen family versus blood family, and whether we've ever been asked if we've found that "special lady" yet.
He was sitting there waiting for me, like usual. My pastor asked if I was okay, though he knew I wasn't. He could tell I was an emotional wreck, that I needed to get some stuff off my chest. I felt numb, this deep despair inside me, like all my energy had escaped me. I only had enough to meet with him on this particular day.
I couldn't go back through this whole crap again! I couldn't go back to being worried every single minute over how to pay for my apartment. I couldn't go back to not eating for a day or two. I couldn't go back to being tempted to selling myself to the first "generous" guy that came my way. I felt the heavy weight again, and I felt like a total loser.
As a kid, I said a lot of derogatory things about LGBTQ+ people. I cringe at the things I remember saying. When I realized I was gay, all of that hatred that I showed to others turned in on myself. That realization drove me to reparative therapy. The logic makes sense: I hate gay people, I am gay — thus, I need to not be gay.
A point came in our relationship when I realized just how dependent I was on him and just how one-sided our friendship was. For my own well-being, I needed to step away from the relationship. What follows is the lament and reflection I wrote in saying "goodbye" to our friendship.