Hello friends! You can call me Seraphim. I am a husband, a father to small children who are constantly on fire, a metalcore enthusiast, and a Midwestern-yet-Eastern Orthodox Christian. When I am not putting out fires, I enjoy reading about intersections of medicine and religion and reflecting on non-straight experiences within the church, each of which I pray are healing to soul and body.
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.
Philippians 4:5 (NIV)
I never thought I had that big of an issue with physical touch. I don’t have any history of some inappropriate physical interaction in need of healing. My parents’ repeated asking on this subject has been met with a resounding “nope.”
Reading about this need for masculine touch among guys who like guys never struck a chord with me, even after years of lurking on this blog. I’ve always been the overzealous hugger, known to lift folks up and twirl them about, even when they’re twice my size.
What I’ve needed to figure out is how to explain my very particular experience. What do I do as a married guy in a little herd of Christian tradition with a particularly odd brand of dude-lust?
Maybe if I kept explaining my lived experience and captured enough detail to enough people, someone might get it. But lying back and snuggling with guys didn’t seem to fit into the equation.
My kids started finding my mega-hugs off-putting. My fiery tots normally thrive off my zeal, but even they noticed I was getting to be a little too much. “Dad, you’re squeezing me too hard,” my oldest told me.
But that was just me, right? I gave hugs until they hurt, only stopping whenever people said, “Enough.”
When I started meeting guys who also experienced same-sex attraction, some did start to receive my aggressive style of hugs. However, like my kids, some weren’t quite ready for them. As I navigated who I could tackle-hug next, one guy invited me to hold his hand. I rolled my eyes a little internally but took him up on the offer, not expecting much: a simple gesture that would soon be forgotten.
That is, until I noticed how much pressure I exerted on his hand as we sat together — and how gently he touched mine back.
As I stared at our hands, I realized how much I’d been exerting pressure in these spaces. I expected that if I kept pressing all the dimensions of my experience onto others, someone might finally get it.
Maybe what I needed instead was to receive the love that was already around me?
Noting this dynamic with my friend, I released the pressure from my hand and collapsed. I shed tears, finally allowing myself to receive touch. To be hugged back. To get close to the guys near me, but not with pressure. To love and be loved. To let myself tuck my head onto a shoulder and rest.
Of course, I needed to unpack these sob sessions with my very local bishop (read: my wife).
Certain forms of physical touch should be reserved solely for my wife — not only from the perspective of traditional Christian sexual ethics, but also in care for my wife’s desires. My wife ought to know and provide ample feedback into boundaries, so any closeness I receive from my brothers also pours into this little church of our home.
If any of my shared masculine touch failed to do so, or worse, detracted from this little church, I’d be shouting anathema until the cows come home.
From what I can tell, at least in my case, our home is becoming gentler. The more I’ve learned to be close with other men healthily, the more I’ve seen my family appreciate gentle touch.
My kids and I still roughhouse, but we’re learning to take steps back and rest together. Now, instead of resistance to my pressure-packed hugs my oldest asks, “Dad, can you snuggle me?”
As St. Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians, our gentleness is to be evident to all. Perhaps as I learn to be more gentle here, knowing the nearness of the Lord in my brothers’ arms, my pressure to work hard to receive love can be put to rest.
May I know how to rest well with my brothers, and then give back as my kids snuggle against my chest.
How do you navigate healthy masculine physical touch with respect to your spouse? How can single and married guys alike support each other through physical touch?
About the Author
I crave physical touch with other men but know my wife would freak out. Any ideas on how to handle this?
I’m not Seraphim, but I’ll give my two cents…
My wife and I have had to have a number of conversations about this. I’m not massively into physical touch, like some guys, but I do desire it from men that I’m emotionally connected to. I was pretty worried that, because I’m not very touchy with her, she would be jealous/hurt.
For context, I came out before marriage, but then we didn’t process it much. Only in the past few years have I more come to terms with my sexually. In general, she has navigated my coming to terms with my sexuality well. I try to keep her informed about my thoughts and what I’m reading and thinking about. When joining YOB I was very open with her about what I was looking for and ways it was encouraging to me. I didn’t want her to think I was hiding anything. So, it was natural to bring up the discussion on physical touch with other guys.
I’ve been pretty clear with her that I believe my body, in a sense, belongs to her, so she has a say in what I do and don’t do with another man. She’s made clear what she’s uncomfortable with and also that she trusts me. I’ve worked to maintain that trust.
So, I encourage you to take the conversation slow. Help her know what you’re learning and discovering about your experience of your sexuality and how that is strengthening your marriage. Find tangible ways to assure her of your commitment to her and to communicate that your desire for healthy touch with other men isn’t due to a deficit on her part.
This is much more complex than a comment/response on a blog post can get in to, but I hope you can find a place to process this with others… I’ve found the married guys in YOB to be an invaluable source of support.
Hey brother! Thanks for the comment! I echo much of Andrew’s excellent response here with regard to openness and taking conversations slowly. I have maintained with my wife an openness with respect to my experience of sexuality from dating through marriage. The patterns of those conversations with respect to touch have varied widely, sometimes looking like her shrugging her shoulders and saying, “that’s neat,” to more intense conversations where we process our commitments to each other, and that any touch or surrounding boundaries should be set out of love for one another and to build up our home. If anything, the boundaries we have enacted with respect to friendship for us have actually brought closeness to us as a couple. One way of framing may be to focus on any appropriate physical touch with close friends as, “I want this for us and our marriage,” emphasizing that you are hers, while also acknowledging stress that the conversation itself may incur. God be with you in your navigation, take things slow, and may God hold you and your wife close!