I met a dear friend at summer camp. Both of us have struggled with loneliness and despair. Neither of us was very strong or “masculine” growing up. We both took our religious faith seriously. In our adult lives, we both went to seminary. And we both like poetry. And today, whenever I struggle with stuff, his words comfort and encourage me to keep going.

In both youth groups and camp ministry, I received the modesty talk on countless occasions. They all had the same basic outline. Our bodies are a temple; we need to keep the temple pure. Anything sexual outside of marriage will dirty the temple. Men are lustful and visual creatures. Women are not as visual and do not deal with lust. I accepted this teaching wholesale. I knew that I was visual, saw my sexuality as a dirty thing, and kept on trying to fight back lust. But I began to notice some problems with modesty talks.

Twice within the span of a year, my passion and my future was taken from me. The future I strove for changed without my permission. The ways I influenced and encouraged others – stolen.

One night, I had a sexual dream about one of the male cabin leaders. I didn't want my past to ruin the summer and my connections with the other male staff. On several previous occasions, telling my story had helped me break down some of the awkwardness I felt. So, I grabbed the cabin leader supervisor and shared my story with him.

College held the hope for a fresh start. Home meant the weight of my double-life: the pain of lying about porn and "everything is okay" all the time; the great friendships that never felt deep or authentic enough for my broken self.

Back in high school, I lived a double life. I enjoyed spending time with my friends and the youth group at my church. But I also spent time looking at porn, questioning how I fit in with guys, and lacking any strong sense of masculinity. The summer after my junior year, I decided to volunteer at a nearby camp. Having never attended this camp -- or any camp – as a camper, I had only vague expectations for my first week. It was a Christian camp so what could be bad about it, right? Driving down that gravel road, though, all the fears and insecurities came rushing at me.

As I entered into ministry, I knew my SSA could end it all in one swift move. I hoped that instead of being rejected I would be loved. I hoped that people would notice their prejudice and change once they met me. I spent much time in prayer -- but also smoking.

Is it really acceptable for men to cry? American culture has told me and countless other boys and young men that crying is not manly.

He's an attractive cashier but he's more than just an attractive cashier. This attractive cashier personifies much of my struggle for the past 20 years.

I've never much desired sexual intercourse with men. Throughout my life, however, my erotic thoughts and desires have centered almost entirely on nudity.

I don't get wet dreams when I masturbate regularly; they only happen when I don't. Like when it happened last week.