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 honestly didn't think I'd write anything else about my mom, basically feeling as if I'd said it all the first time around. But turns out I was wrong. I've had some health issues through the years, including six strokes. I had a session with a psychiatrist, telling her how my mom and sisters are the direct cause of my stress, making my catatonic episodes worse each time.

I always feel this nervousness attached to holding hands in public. If I want to hold hands with a friend, what will others think of me? What will they think of us? Will they assume we are a couple? Will they say something? Will they be aggressive, or will they ignore us?

How was this past Christmas reinvigorated for me? Well, this song helped clarify the good parts of my sexuality related to human touch, deeply rooted in the natural instinct common to all humans since birth. I was born with a longing to be comforted, to be held, to be swaddled, to be cuddled. As I've aged, those same good touch instincts were partially absorbed by my sexuality, and now they're muddled.

I joined Your Other Brothers back in 2017. I experienced the first and second camp retreats in good ole North Carolina, but then I took a break from YOB the next two years. Why? Because I was tired of it.

I entered my first YOBBERS retreat hoping for renewal out of this weekend. But would I really get that renewal? Would I see a refresh of strength – mentally, physically, spiritually?

On the one hand, I wanted the opportunity to meet and engage with a community whom I've deeply desired connection, and this retreat would also occur over my fall break; on the other hand, I was deeply anxious and afraid of going and then feeling isolated and alone.

My biggest takeaway from this year's retreat was simply continuing to do this Side B life with other believers. One of the central themes of that Mary of Bethany message was "Jesus is the vision." I love that statement so much. It's probably going to be written numerous times in my journal, and I imagine it will find its way into future blogs. I'm so grateful for brothers also pursuing this same vision of Jesus.

Something else that astonished me over the weekend was how much like myself I felt; how proud I was to be seen in the company of my fellow queer brothers; how un-worried I was about what anybody else thought. That's not like me. At least not how I have been.

Going into this retreat, your boy was stressed. Stressed just from day-to-day existing. Looking back and evaluating my spiritual condition at the time, I could not slow down long enough to have one simple conversation with God. Long enough for my brain and my heart to catch up to each other.

Anticipation was running high. This would be my first retreat since joining the YOB community last year. A poorly timed illness prevented me from attending previously, so my heart was more than ready for a weekend away with my other brothers. And God provided.

As I left, one of these guys thanked me for showing the group what a mother-son relationship should look like. That was definitely food for thought on my long drive home! So many thoughts ran through my head and heart.

I believe that if I hadn't come to this retreat, I wouldn't have found this perspective shift – especially with my brother's encouragement. Perhaps I did need to have my hope renewed. My time with my brothers that weekend would facilitate this renewal, refocusing our eyes on the source of our hope, our Lord Jesus Christ.

I'd be spending the weekend with an entire group of gay/SSA/bi/queer men. Something I’d never done before. But, you know, YOLO. I'd told one of my friends from church, "It will probably be a lot like a typical Christian men's retreat." "Except with more hugging," he replied. But, really, why was I going?

Despite all the incredible people in our online community, I've recognized my need for more men in my city on whom I can depend. This has been a sobering searching process because YOB has become such a pillar of my identity. If I'm no longer close or as intentional with a large lot of our YOB community, who even am I?

This complicated relationship with masculinity has followed me throughout my life, especially as I've gradually come to terms with what it means to be a gay man following Jesus. Even now, I struggle to use the word "man" to describe myself. I can come to terms with the word "gay" or the word "Christian," but "man" doesn't feel like something I am.

When I finally acknowledged my sexuality as something God could use for His glory and my good, it became something that endeared me to others rather than only alienate me from them. Sexuality was no longer just a source of shame; it became a catalyst for connection.

I was just about to graduate and launch out into the world, and I couldn't hide from the truth any longer. I'm homosexual. That was the only language I had for it at the time. There was no way I could have used the word gay, because I sure wasn't happy; quite the opposite, in fact. I was devastated.

I found myself getting sucked into a world of fantasy. Porn was way better than watching some blockbuster: I could still be with guys without actually being with them. After all, I never cared about those guys anyway. It was all about me and getting off. The more I watched porn, the more I was hooked.