I love sports and competition. I love the push, the struggle, the fight toward victory. I love how my chest burns when I'm on the brink of exhaustion.
I bought a house. I'm officially living IN the city! I've had a roommate since day one. He's a great friend and brother in Christ.
I did not have heroes growing up. Many little boys look up to their father or older brothers. I didn't have a clear definition of what a hero should be.
I had no idea how desperately I'd needed some guy — even some unknowable guy on the Internet — to tell me that I'm awesome.
I don't get wet dreams when I masturbate regularly; they only happen when I don't. Like when it happened last week.
He decided he didn't want to be my friend anymore. I'm not entirely sure who was more to blame, and this not knowing still plagues me.
Do I really want complete healing, or am I satisfied being a lifelong struggler? Is the self-pity I've surrounded myself with for so long too hard to leave?
Our blogging brothers, Sam and Dean, meet up to talk pop culture, the color pink, and the complicating world of masculine stereotypes.
Today marks a special and pivotal turning point here at Your Other Brothers. For the last four-plus months, we've been bringing you four blog posts a week from me and my same-sex attracted brothers the world over. We've seen incremental site growth from week to week and month to month, and lately it's starting to feel like a family in here. I couldn't be more pleased with the last four-plus months. I speak on behalf of all my other brothers when I say thank you for joining us on this strange new journey. With every passing month, it feels less and less strange. Today is special, because it brings to life a vision planted at the start: a new medium to broadcast our stories. The written word is great -- I personally adore blogging -- but sometimes, the written word can only go so far. Here at YOB, we want to share our stories however we...
So often I lament my lifelong disconnect from the male species and my own innate lack of manhood, I tend to neglect or even forget the numerous times I have felt like a man.