As a kid, I said a lot of derogatory things about LGBTQ+ people. I cringe at the things I remember saying. When I realized I was gay, all of that hatred that I showed to others turned in on myself. That realization drove me to reparative therapy. The logic makes sense: I hate gay people, I am gay — thus, I need to not be gay.
Straight men have always been scary. They've long been "the other," going all the way back to first grade. We may not share the same tastes for sports and media consumption, but we still share a common masculine heart. One fraught with hauntingly familiar masculine thorns.
Do I live the way I live purely because of the way I was raised? Do I still harbor any internalized homophobia of myself and others? Is that why I'm "Side B"? Is this all coming from a place of pious self-righteousness?
The morning after, I processed this dream over and over. This "dad of my dreams" was unlike my dad of reality. He was affectionate and involved. He helped me — didn't just tell me to fix whatever was wrong. And he stayed with me.
The Sunday service started, and I was excited to speak. I'd been praying for this moment for quite a while now — I was about to give my testimony in front of a whole church. The service started, and two songs into worship I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the pastor, and he was motioning me back to his office...
We recently held our second annual YOBBERS retreat: a weekend gathering for our financial supporters and community members on Patreon. Several of our authors attended, and we discussed our time together — both highs and lows — in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
I'm grateful "Band of Brothers" introduced me to the concept of true brotherhood at a young age. Had I not seen it, I may have grown up thinking the only type of intimacy between people is sex. At long last, I feel like I have found my band of brothers here at YOB and in the "Side B" world at large: men who know me, love me, and will be there for me, even at the end.
What happens when intimacy with another fails to fulfill or runs out altogether? Can we ever ask for more intimacy? Can we trust again when intimacy is lost? Join Tom, Ryan, and Jacob in the second of our two-part discussion on intimacy. We share more of our most meaningful intimacy stories, including how one particular moment with Ryan and Jacob is one for Tom's intimacy "trophy case."
I've been traveling and meeting so many other likeminded gay or same-sex attracted (SSA) individuals for the past few years. In my many interactions, I've picked up on so many commonalities. I have rediscovered the age-old truth that God can take the seemingly darkest, hardest things in our lives and use them for something incredibly good.
Intimacy is scary, and intimacy is vulnerable. Intimacy can be shared or rejected. Intimacy is special and sacred, and intimacy is everyday. Intimacy is sexual and emotional, physical and spiritual. Join Tom, Ryan, and Jacob in the first of a two-part deep dive into intimacy. The brothers define intimacy, likening it to a fire, discussing the differences and nuances between intimacy and vulnerability. They also talk about their first forays into intimacy many years ago and what the cornerstone of their most intimate relationships has been.