I've had at least a decade to process my sexuality, why certain men "do it" for me and why others do not. I've already written about what kinds of guys I'm attracted to and my cycles of physical and emotional same-sex attraction. But am I sexually attracted to men? The answer has become so clear over the last couple years: no.
When the call came, it wasn't that I couldn't hear it; it was that I had no interest in obeying. For Jonah, that call was Nineveh. For me? It was coming out. My "solution" for my sexuality was quite simple: I'd tell no one, become straight, and then move on with my life. A secret I'd die keeping rather than ever share; I could hardly admit it to myself, let alone another human.
Several of our featured authors watched the film, Boy Erased. It's based on the real-life story of Garrard Conley who wrote a memoir of the same name. Boy Erased follows a young man's journey through reparative or conversion therapy, and it's also a story of a mother's and father's relationships with their gay son. It's a heavy film, and we debriefed it together in this extensive conversation.
It felt good to be close to another man. And yet, was it right (healthy, faithful, acceptable) to like this? Is this what acceptance in a physical sense felt like?
A same-sex celibate partnership is an intimate coupling between two same-sex attracted or gay-identifying individuals. Bonded for life in a way similar to marriage but, of course, minus the sex. I have already seen a few celibate couplings form between guys. I've been mostly watching from a distance, but other times I've contacted those folks to ask questions. Sometimes I view them with a lot of envy.
I recently returned from a men's retreat in which I came face-to-face with my biggest struggle: not anything regarding my sexuality or sexual addictions. But simply feeling like a man. Like a man among men, assembled on an equal playing field rather than somewhere on another field's sidelines.
Just because I'm "out" doesn't mean I'm always going out of my way to talk about sexuality. Outside my closest friendships, I still don't feel comfortable sharing. I still feel ashamed of my sexuality. Even after all this time. All these stories, written or otherwise.
I remember being envious of the other boys who seemed so free in their bodies, so free with their bodies. I remember being envious of their slenderness, and later on, their muscles. I remember lying in bed wishing so hard that I could wake up and be miraculously thin. I remember knowing that I shouldn't hate my body but having no idea how to stop.
The vast majority of "Queer Eye" is not even addressing sex; it is addressing prejudice, shame, and loneliness. I have experienced shame, the idea that I am simply unlovable. I even believed for many years that God hated me, that God himself couldn’t even love me.
Our recently held inaugural YOBBERS retreat far exceeded my expectations and imagination. I experienced many meaningful moments at the retreat, including one that produced this profound -- perhaps obvious -- realization: I am an other brother too.