One of the suggested reasons reparative therapists offer for homosexual attractions is a long-established disconnect from masculine acceptance. That's why they have guys running around learning how to play sports and feel good about it. It's a theory that has often been criticized (sarcastically), but one that makes a little sense in my mind.
I hated church ball as a kid. I would rather go to the dentist than throw a basketball (or any ball, for that matter) with an audience. And, I suppose the surprising thing about this is that I'm not too bad of a ball player. I'm not great... my skill development stopped in about the third grade when I quit wanting to play sports pretty much at all... but I do quite well in things like racquetball.
Anyway, as a kid I was invited (half-heartedly) to play with the teachers' quorum team. When I gave it a shot, I was horrible, and the other kids being of the appropriate maturity level for a set of average 14-year-old boys weren't particularly supportive. I didn't go back and they didn't pursue me; or if they did it was obviously half-hearted. "Hey, -L-, if you want to play, we'll certainly sacrifice our chances of winning and cheer you on in a condescending show of supporting our ridiculous teammate." Yes, there's some pride operating there, but I should be given the same concessions of 14-year-old maturity that I give my teammates, right?
So, here I am twice the age and still suffering from caring what other people think. The authors of the blogs here on my sidebar are generally nice to me, even when I'm a ridiculous fool. I appreciate this and it fosters a community spirit that allows openness and honesty without fear of being hurt for it. It also fosters quick and blameless changes of opinion rather than a, "you said something false in writing and in public and now your humiliation will be celebrated" view.
But, when I go out into the bloggernacle proper, I think I freeze up a little bit. I let jeering and obnoxious people keep me from speaking up. I defend myself and my views with a fervor that I later easily admit to myself is ridiculous and counter-productive. In short, I get the same types of insecure feelings I got when I attempted to throw a baseball as a teenager.
I know I've been on quite a kick of blogging about blogging for the last several weeks. But, what can I say? It's been on my mind, and writing this stuff makes me get over it, it seems.