I was best friends with a straight guy. We could live together and share hugs and other brotherly affection without worrying about falling into sexual sin.
I lost my sexual sobriety because I went in search of shortcuts to intimacy with other men. I knew it wouldn't satisfy. Just like all the other times.
We were always careful to keep appropriate, healthy boundaries even though we knew we were not sexually attracted to each other. I think we were just cautious of others gossiping if we appeared to be too close. Unfortunately, churches like ours are especially prone to gossip about SSA guys.
I don't get wet dreams when I masturbate regularly; they only happen when I don't. Like when it happened last week.
I didn't belong here. An odd realization to make. YOB is for the outcast. A place for those who feel they don't belong. It's a community for the outcasts.
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.
When my gay brother received his booty call one night, I decided I had to move out. It was then that a guy named Brandon invited me to come live with him.
I am in recovery. And like the alcoholic with a beer or a drug addict with a joint, I cannot expect to masturbate every now and then and beat this addiction.
My father found out about my gay pornography use. He wanted to help me. And then my father never spoke to me about gay pornography use again.
Among myriad other losses I could mourn about, I consider how I'm almost 30 and ache over this lack-of-experience that I've never been kissed.