I've been rereading "Unwanted" for therapy, and it continues to reveal my uncomfortable reflection – all of it, all of me. It often feels like fluorescent lights buzzing overhead at midnight. And yet Stringer's premise encourages me: sexual brokenness almost paradoxically revealing paths to healing.

I understand some people have to portray themselves in certain ways for cultural reasons, or because they don't want to hurt their families. But how many more mornings are we willing to wear this mask around people just to cry into our pillows at night?

You know, after fifteen years of blogging about gay things and masculine things and all the other intermingled, messy faith things, I often feel like I've run out of stories to tell here. Gay kisses, wet dreams, fetishes – what on earth is there left to say?? Ah, but then I wake up one day and suddenly remember that time another "Side B" guy from a Facebook group asked if he could do something to my genitals. Ah, yes – a new story to tell. Glory be.

I had sex for the first time on May 3, 1979. Funny how you always remember your first. It was with my sister's best friend. I was 17; she was 16. Everyone in the neighborhood swore we were already having sex, but we weren't. I really wasn't interested in her or any other girl for that matter; even if I was, I wouldn't have known what to do anyway.

All I wanted was to live a fantasy every weekend: to believe that some man wanted me. That he loved me just so I could take my mind off all the negative things I felt about myself. After 29 years of living that life and never once finding happiness or love, God in His own way brought me back to Him and the church. However, I also started experiencing added health issues.

I spent nearly three decades of my life sexually involved with other guys, and even longer than that attracted to them, and in all that time I never once considered Pride Month or attending any Pride parades or events. Part of that thinking is because I was raised in the South in the 60's and 70's, and in the Black community particularly acting like a homosexual was strictly taboo.

Anyone else feeling super tempted during this pandemic? Especially the longer this thing drags on? Because I'll be the first to raise my hand. I'm feeling super tempted. I'm feeling super restless. I'm actually feeling super-duper tempted and restless.

I've long heard a common refrain among fellow gay or SSA folks in the church, and it's something I've honestly never been able to relate with. That's not to put myself "above" others; it's just my reality. Many have tried to "pray the gay away," and I can't recall ever doing so. From a young age I felt a certain draw to the other boys, and while I felt shame for the lingering looks and daydreams, I never blamed God or even asked Him to take it away, add a splash of heterosexuality, or what have you.

It often feels like a self-fulfilling cycle of a formula: that as soon as I praise God, when I repent and I'm again "right" with Him, I'm back on an inevitable trajectory toward porn and promiscuity and the dark desires of my heart.

I understand: this phrase could be my life's motto. God has given me great ability as an empath to feel what others feel, even when I completely disagree with them. I'm not sure who first said it but the phrase, your greatest strength can also be your greatest weakness, rings true here.

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.

I'm a sensitive man who feels things, feels things all the time, and no amount of oversleeping or overdrinking or pornography or promiscuity will turn me off.

I knew I needed a miracle even to get out there, and now this triggering text message was stuck in my brain as I got ready. I packed my clothes for the weekend but needed to get some food in my stomach before the semi-long trip.

Deep in my financial drought, I thought about the idea of prostitution again. I'd done prostitution before, and my options for finding a job were running thin. I did love sex and hooking up with other guys; why not dive back into that dangerous field again and make some extra cash? I was in desperate need of help.

I think it's ironic, but I really believe our stories may be better received by unbelievers than some churches. Fortunately, my story is different. Most people have patiently heard me out and graciously extended loving support.

I went to the clinic by myself to get myself checked. I entered the clinic and had this fear that if I had contracted an STD, it would stay with me forever.

What if I did partake in male nudity in a non-sexual setting? What if I could make my nudist desires feel more normal and less of a sexual fantasy?

I don't want sex with another man like I don't want sex with a woman. And most days I just need someone to tell me that's okay.

I know I'm a hypocrite, yet I embrace that term and the things it entails because it shows that God can use me despite my flaws.

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.