It would be easy to write a few paragraphs about how virtuous all these wonderful men were; how they showed me the (gender-neutral) love of Jesus; how bravely they pursued vulnerability with one another. But I want to do something stupider. I want to write about a vibe, an aesthetic, a rumor of masculinity which I seemed to detect at my first YOBBERS Retreat.

Together, we are still invited to the same calling in marriage: to bear the image of God and represent Christ and the Church in our love for one another. Why would I share this part of our married life, my sexuality, which some may see as so private so as only to be known to one's priest or pastor?

Was I in love with him? Did we have the deepest friendship, or was it actually something more? This is for the lot of us who have gone from strangers to friends to kin to nothing.

Looking back, I cringe at the sheer childishness of some of these entries. I may as well have been giggling and kicking my feet and drawing little hearts while writing them. There's no unifying "type" to these physically diverse male crushes beyond "he was nice to me for longer than 30 seconds and feels safe."

How does this "normal boy" turned "normal man" feel about his naked body? His penis? I'm still unsure of many of the answers to these questions. From the inside out, I've struggled to feel normal (comfortable) in my own skin. This masculine body. Starting with that particular appendage.

I had dinner with a friend one day, and out of nowhere he mentioned something about Your Other Brothers. We had never discussed issues of sexuality together, and regardless of his intention, God was working. He suggested I check out YOB's podcast on the way home, and I did, and I got hooked.

Years ago a YOB post like this initially proved to me that this site had something new and interesting to offer the world. It made me feel seen and understood like almost nothing I had read before.

Sometimes you just have to be honest with yourself about who you are. After another year and a half in Germany, I woke up one morning, walked down to my first sergeant's office, and told him I was gay – that I didn't want to be in the Army anymore. My colonel had to sign off on that paperwork; he refused. And I was arrested. The Army rushed the investigation, and I was court-martialed.

It seems one can find almost anything on the Internet nowadays, with the exception of a serious discussion about sexuality and disabilities; let me assure you, I have looked. It has been increasingly important to me (and certainly others in my plight) to find such information. I was born with cerebral palsy, along with the ability to ask questions apparently nobody is supposed to ask. Like most kids who grow up gay, I felt different on the inside; in my particular case, I was different on the outside too.

We yearn for men. We yearn for specific men. We yearn for abstract, unspecified men. We yearn for men in general. We yearn for men to yearn for other men. Sometimes we yearn for men's bodies, sometimes for their hearts, sometimes for their souls. We yearn for brothers. We yearn for boyfriends or husbands. Some of us yearn for fathers, some of us yearn for sons. We yearn to encounter, to access, and to drink deeply of the raw, earthy-sweet, intoxicating, powerful substance of masculinity. To be welcomed into it, to be wanted into it.

If there's one thing that stands out about me, it's intentional community. As a single Christian guy with same-sex attraction, I find that I fight against sexual temptations much more effectively when living with other guys. I am much happier, too! But how does living with other guys work with all the potential problems?

For the longest time I felt afraid about the locker room setting. Part of my fear and shame came from body-image issues, as I was the "fat kid" most of my life. Part of my fear also came from my same-sex attraction – the fear for potential arousal. I was curious how the other guys looked but also ashamed and scared to be around them or be seen in my nakedness.

Right on cue, in walks that cute guy again. Instantly, I'm back to spiraling, back to wondering if this faith thing can really work out in the end, or if I'm actually as crazy as I sound when I tell someone I'm pursuing celibacy. It's in these moments that God feels like the eternal God of "no" — no sex, no boyfriend, no husband, no romance, no intimacy. No love. God becomes the God who won't let me eat the fruit from the one tree I'm craving, instead of the God who provided an entire garden just for me.

When the call came, it wasn't that I couldn't hear it; it was that I had no interest in obeying. For Jonah, that call was Nineveh. For me? It was coming out. My "solution" for my sexuality was quite simple: I'd tell no one, become straight, and then move on with my life. A secret I'd die keeping rather than ever share; I could hardly admit it to myself, let alone another human.

God and I are going to have some time alone together at the beginning of the next life. For the wounds to heal, for the scars to fade, and for the tears to become mere memory. I used to think healing would happen in an instant, but I'm not sure that's how healing works anymore.

A same-sex celibate partnership is an intimate coupling between two same-sex attracted or gay-identifying individuals. Bonded for life in a way similar to marriage but, of course, minus the sex. I have already seen a few celibate couplings form between guys. I've been mostly watching from a distance, but other times I've contacted those folks to ask questions. Sometimes I view them with a lot of envy.

I remember being envious of the other boys who seemed so free in their bodies, so free with their bodies. I remember being envious of their slenderness, and later on, their muscles. I remember lying in bed wishing so hard that I could wake up and be miraculously thin. I remember knowing that I shouldn't hate my body but having no idea how to stop.

We finished the day by taking silhouette pictures with the blazing orange-and-pink sky as our backdrop. My siblings lovingly kissed their spouses and lifted them up in the air as some of the most romantic and precious images I'd ever witnessed. I stayed to watch for a little while, knowing that no one would ask me if I wanted any pictures by myself. That would have been absurd, right? It didn't take long for me to reach the end of what I could handle with my family. So, I ran away.

The LGBT community depended upon each other when they had no one else. And now they stick together closely, fighting alongside each other. The LGBT community isn't perfect. However, the LGBT community still finds a way to come together for a common purpose. And, honestly, this is attractive to me.

I would be coming out to my family over dinner. I told them that I wasn't planning on changing the course of my faith. I explained that I was telling them because I planned to tell even more people. I told them that if I wanted to talk about it again I’d be the one to bring it up, and I stood up and left.