The Right to Be Curious
Why do we assume curiosity signals attraction? Exploring how men misunderstand questions about sexuality, intimacy, and personal experiences.
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The Library
A collection of essays, personal journals, stories, and research exploring masculinity, intimacy, identity, and the many ways we come to understand ourselves and one another. Some are deeply personal. Others are imagined. All invite a closer look.
Essays & Reflections
Essays, observations, and reflections exploring masculinity, identity, intimacy, and the expectations we carry.
One of the Guys
When other boys’ eyes wandered, it meant nothing. When mine did, it had a name, and a price.
When the Clothes Come Off
An intimate reflection on nakedness, aging, body acceptance, and the unexpected relief of having nothing left to hide.
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Nothing to Prove
A personal reflection on masculinity, aging, vulnerability, and the disappearing spaces where men can simply be themselves without judgment.
Nobody’s Listening
I don’t miss having someone here. I really don’t. But sometimes I remember his arms around me, his chin on my shoulder, and wonder which side of the bed he’d take.
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The Treaty
I held the towel longer than I needed it. Not manners. A treaty. I will not make you deal with this, and you will not make me deal with that.
If You Don’t Flinch
Men are given few places to explore desire, vulnerability, and intimacy without being labeled. Somewhere between brotherhood and sex, I found a different kind of connection, one that resists easy definition.
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Loud Hands, Quiet Mouths
Men’s masturbation lives are loud in practice and quiet in conversation. On one side, we have detailed, high-intensity routines; on the other, a culture where most people still flinch at the idea of talking openly.
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My Journey into the Study of Men
I find myself standing at the edge of an academic landscape. In one direction, women’s studies rises like a mountain range. But where I long to explore, there’s only a faint trail: the study of men.
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The Fitting Room Encounter
Shopping for pants always felt like a small act of suffering. I knocked lightly while pushing the door inward. And froze. In the small, enclosed space, a young man sat on the narrow bench, shirt open, bare from the waist down.
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