Years ago a YOB post like this initially proved to me that this site had something new and interesting to offer the world. It made me feel seen and understood like almost nothing I had read before.
Does nice equal good? Does strong equal toxic? Commiseration is a drink that intoxicates quickly, yet we must weep with those who weep. Am I a man? Am I strong? What am I, and where is my place? What is the nature of masculine strength?
If we were gonna cuddle safely in the dark, why not just cuddle safely in the light? Open the veil, so to speak? We were lying down next to each other, my head on his chest, or his head on mine, I forget. Everything was quiet. Nobody else was in the room. But it would not stay that way.
At its core, Luca is simply about a friendship between two boys. It was refreshing to see a deep, loving friendship between boys; so few movies really show this. In a culture obsessed with romantic relationships, this was wonderful to see. But Luca has also brought some controversy. Some have accused Luca of queerbaiting – that is, hinting at or even promising LGBT+ representation, only not to deliver for fear of the reaction.
Would I be able to reconnect with brothers I hadn't spoken to in months? How would I manage all the people I'd be meeting for the first time? What about the guys I found attractive? Would I even have the energy for this weekend?
I was anxious our "vibe" would be too new, too foreign, too strange, and too uncomfortable for too many people. Would the ratio just be off? Would our vibe be off after 27 months apart? Beyond logistics and numbers, I felt anxious about the purpose of this retreat more than either of our previous ones. It all goes back to that nebulous definition of YOB: what are we here for?
Something came crashing into my mind when Peter asked me to be a team leader at church: a stream of familiar feelings, similar to the ones I felt the first time I had to come out. They were feelings of inadequacy; the line of thinking that I was in a somewhat state of sinfulness that compelled me to confess.
What follows is a template to give you a potential starting point for conversation with anyone in your church leadership. I write this as one who has had both positive and negative experiences coming out to church leadership.
I'd spent a long time laboriously looking for a community to belong, and I'd finally found one. With this new community, though, came a growing fear – the fear of eventually being rejected. If they knew me, like really knew me, would they still want to be friends with me or even associate with me at all?
Why didn't I have a friend like that to fulfill over two decades of touch-deprivation? Or was I even right to long for touch like that? Did that sort of touch between two men cross a line? Could two men cuddle without sinning or pushing boundaries?