Before visiting him, I can't remember our ever talking about what would happen at night. Cody had a bunkbed in his room, even though he lived alone. The top bunk was made for me when I arrived, but I didn't sleep in it once. It just sorta...happened.

As incredibly difficult as 2020 was and as much as I still feel inept with many of the fruits (looking at you, gentleness and self-control), I have grown more in 2020 than any year before. Now, as we have entered 2021, life is still taking twists and turns like never before. This coming year will hold new adventures, new hurts, and new lessons yet to unfold. However, one place I will not be continuing these adventures, for now, is here. On Your Other Brothers.

Physical touch isn't even one of my love languages, but it doesn't have to be. Humans are meant to have regular physical interaction with others. When the pandemic started, I became acutely aware that physical touch would be more rare than it already was in my life. I've experienced physical touch a total of seven times in almost a year.

My issues with self-control go well beyond the typical desires of hunger, attraction, sleep, and so on. It goes into my struggle to pause before acting – at anything.

Whatever the reason, this is where I find myself: apathetic toward the Church, God, and disciplines like reading Scripture and prayer. I'm not angry at the Church -- just apathetic. And in that apathy I feel ordinarily strong convictions weaken.

For many years gentleness was a foreign concept to me. Even after actually coming to know Christ in college, I still didn't get gentleness. Jesus turned over tables in the temple – aren't we supposed to do the same?

Why didn't I have a friend like that to fulfill over two decades of touch-deprivation? Or was I even right to long for touch like that? Did that sort of touch between two men cross a line? Could two men cuddle without sinning or pushing boundaries?

Faithfulness is being beaten to a bloody, messy pulp and still saying, "God, I trust you." Faithfulness is f–ing hard s–. And it has hurt me deeply this year – deeper than I ever imagined possible.

If you were to ask me if I regret coming out in 2013, I'd answer a thousand times no. But for every thousand times no, I might also answer with one or two yesses. I don't miss the perpetual shadows of the closet. The secrecy. The shame. The constant playing along. But I do kinda miss the privacy. Like, whose business is it who I am or am not attracted to?

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.

I am fallen. Identity in Christ aside, I am still in a body of sin and death, as Paul said. I fight a fallen flesh every single day. How can I be good? How can goodness be a fruit of mine?

The latest song to get me spiritually musing is "Dear Younger Me" by the band, MercyMe. The premise of the song is thinking through what one would tell his younger self if he ever got the chance. Would it be some cheesy speech about enjoying every moment to its fullest? Would he warn himself of all the mistakes to come, even though those mistakes are now inseparable from the man he became? What would he say? What would I say to a younger me?

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.

Don't get me wrong, I am completely and utterly attracted to men. I've never been attracted to a woman in my life. And yet my attraction to the same sex doesn't go quite as far as many others' do. Ultimately, I just have no desire for sex with other men even though I'm attracted to them.

What if kindness as a fruit of the Spirit simply meant your unconscious approach to others – and even to yourself – was to help instead of judge? What if kindness manifested itself in the simple idea that when you see someone in need or hurting or broken, you desire to care for them before you desire to know how it happened?

I was almost done with my turn of thorns and roses, and I remembered wanting to tell them I liked a girl. I just blurted it out: "So, I like this girl, and I think she's pretty awesome!" All of the guys were a bit shocked and surprised to hear that come out of my mouth.

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.

Rather than blindly following Him, Jesus invites us to do a little spiritual preparation to ensure we are committed to seeing our faith walk through. As I look back on my own faith journey, I realize just how important this reflection and preparation has been in spiritually working through my sexuality.

I desire so greatly to be in heaven in the presence of my God and Savior. Yet I still wait. And wait. Every day with a reminder of my imperfections through a fallen world, broken relationships, and a scarred gender identity. Every day I long for Christ's return. Is this how I live out patience as a queer man?

I just have a longing to be accepted, seen as a man among men. To feel like one of the guys. Yes, I've experienced those feelings with fellow "Side B" friends, but sometimes it only feels like one side of the coin.