Category: Guest Articles

I know my worth, and I haven’t always been able to say that.

My value isn’t in the external. My value is the man I am inside. It’s my ability to grow and to change, my enormous capacity for love, my supportive and encouraging nature, a generally positive outlook, and a tenacity in achieving my goals.
There have been times in my life when I’ve lost sight of these attributes. It happens to all of us. We get sidetracked with careers or goals or other ambitions. We work to climb the corporate ladder, get a bigger house or a nicer car of whatever else it is that motivates us.

Today, I’m thinking a lot about my worth and value, and I’ve been reminded that I’m doing things right. Oddly enough, the reminder that I’m doing things right is that there are some challenges to navigate.

I made a conscious decision several months ago to change some things in my life. And while I got thrown some curveballs in the process, I know how to navigate the temporary frustrations to get to where I know I want to go.

It’s almost funny to look at myself in the mirror and recognize this attitude. I lost it a while ago, and it took me doing some things for and by myself to regain this confidence. But seeing it here, I can easily fall back on my experiences to know how and why I feel this way.

Not that long ago, I had a successful career working for the Federal Govt. I was married, had a young son, a house, a yard, an honest-to-god picket fence, and a dog. I had two cars in the driveway, and I was putting myself through college. I was living a kind of American Dream, but it wasn’t _mine._ Still, I’m proud of what I was able to accomplish at that point. It’s amazing, thinking back on it.

But I had the courage to take a leap of faith and pursue a very different dream. As my marriage dissolved, I moved to California for grad school. I got an MFA in creative writing, began a new career as a college professor, and moved to a rural mountain-top retreat. When I was immersed in the earlier married life, there’s no way I could Have forecast the life that was waiting for me. I’d have scoffed if you’d told me I could have the life I’m living now.

And right now, the life I have is so much happier than anything I could have imagined. On the way here, I’ve had a lot of turns, and I have to say they’re positive, because they lead me to this point. There were periods in which I wanted for nothing materially. I lived with a multimillionaire and by all accounts had no worries. But I wasn’t fulfilled. It’s nice to not have to worry about some things, but if I’m unhappy or lonely, what’s the point of that lack of material worry? I’ve also been on the other end of that spectrum, struggling to make ends meet. While the latter can be challenging, it’s really more of a temporary frustration.

I know how to get back out in front, having done it a couple times in my life already. It’s easier when I know what I want and what I won’t compromise.

And that confidence comes from my childhood. We mimic what we see, And we’re comfortable when we find things that recall our formative experiences. My family is deeply flawed, but I never doubted that I as loved. In fact, love was the foundation of everything we had. We were dirt poor, but I didn’t know that. I worked with my dad in the garden every day. We went fishing and hunting and camping. My mom was always cooking and canning and baking. My parents read me stories every night.

There was no TV, so we played games. During the days, I was outside. I was active and encouraged to be creative. And when my parents separated, they ended up getting remarried to each other a few months later.

I learned that material things are nice, but they don’t last. What matters are the people in our lives; genuine people who care and support. I learned the pleasure of giving that care and support in return.

• I learned to value real, personal interaction.
• I learned to value forgiveness.
• I learned to value love, both giving and receiving it.
• I learned to value hard work and perseverance.
• I learned to value connection.
• I learned to value working together.
• I learned to value growth.

All those things that I loved were the product of us not having alternatives. We gardened because we couldn’t afford to go to the grocery store for everything. Mom cooked the way she did and canned to stretch things longer. We bonded because we couldn’t afford distractions. And we relied on each other because what mattered most …what we truly valued, and knew would last… were the bonds we shared.

The truth is that there always will be challenges to face. What matters is not letting ego or pride get in the way of leaning on the people who genuinely care about me. What matters is showing up and being present. What matters is my positive attitude and belief that things will always work out for the best; that challenges are temporary. What matters is staying open and loving and supportive. What matters is keeping this great big heart vulnerable and open both to giving and to receiving the love it deserves.

Life is hard sometimes, but I’m up to the challenge. I’ve worked hard to be able to say that. And I feel good being able to recognize the man I truly am. I may have challenges to face and overcome, but there is joy and strength in doing the hard work necessary to do just that. So today, I’m grateful when there are struggles. It means I’m doing things right, and I’m on the right path. My eyes are open, and so is my heart. And I’m proud of who and what I am.

Robert F. James is a lecturer in creative writing at San Jose State University. He’s been a professional writer his entire adult life, and his writings primarily focus on the challenges of modern masculinity. He lives on a small hobby farm in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California, where he raises chickens, rabbits, and ducks while managing a small garden. He’s been a Sailor, a pastor, a television and radio personality, and a professional piercer. His eclectic background lends itself to an exploratory aspect of his writing. His work is an authentic reflection of the issues he puzzles over on a daily basis, and he spends a good deal of time outdoors to process them. A large herd of deer on the property seem to respond favorably to his ramblings.

Once upon a time, I fell in love.

And god, she was beautiful: tall, long-legged, and an amazing sense of humor. Her red hair was the color of a sunset, and falling asleep in her arms was heaven.

The problem was she was my mother, so marrying her and spending the rest of my life with her was a long shot. So that meant I had to find “the one” on my own. The problem is that I was never convinced there was “one” out there for me. Simple statistics means it’s pretty improbably that out of all the billions of people on the planet, there is only one who is ultimately compatible with me, and I’m on some sort of search for her.

It’s like Quest for Fire, only for a girlfriend.

So, I came up with an analogy for what I was doing with my approach. Because of everything I was doing, the one thing I didn’t want to do was to waste time in dead-end relationship or dating women who just weren’t right for me. I’m thankful for all my experiences, but I was always a little goal oriented. So I imagined that each date I went on, each failed relationship, was analogous to me painting a portrait of the woman I’d fall in love with.

Each person in my life added a brush stroke or two to the portrait.

And I figured that if I had enough brush strokes on the canvas, then I’d recognize her when I saw her. That’s a great romantic ideal, but I’m not sure that analogy makes much sense, either. But what it did do was give me something to think about when it came time for me to decide “do I stay and fight for this, or is it time to pull up stakes and go?”

How on Earth do I know when to fight for something?

You know, there really are two answers to that question: macro and micro. I’ll start with the first.

Experience showed me who was worth fighting for and who I could cut loose. That sounds mercenary, but it’s certainly true. By knowing what I truly want (through trial and error), I was able to know when it was time to divorce my first wife. I was able to know when it was time to move out from living with a woman who was perfectly fine and safe and stable, but not at all a person who would allow me to grow and be the man I wanted to be. And it allowed me to not go chasing after a woman I cared deeply for, but who dumped me after a few months because she was scared of commitment.

It also allowed me to stick it out with some relationships that might have ended too soon had I not know it was someone worth fighting for. Because the truth is, not every relationship is for a lifetime, but each relationship has something to teach me, and I want to make sure I’m there long enough to learn my lesson. That also sounds mercenary, and it isn’t. If I back off and just focus on being in the moment, then I’m not worried about the long-term. I’m here and I’m present. It helps me recognize when I’m good, and it helps me recognize when things are off. And when things are off for enough “moments,” I am confident enough to not fight for something that isn’t healthy for me.

Last night, I asked my partner what she thought of that question: How do you know what to fight for, and her answer surprised me. She said simply that if she met someone new, she was looking at his entire life; wondering if she could picture herself folded into his life.

To illustrate the point, she used the example of her ex. In this case, he is someone whose life revolves around counterculture events like Burning Man. He hosts house parties where alcohol is the centerpiece. And wine and fine dining are the cornerstones of his life. There’s nothing wrong with any of those things, other than the fact that my partner is sober. So when she looked at her ex and saw the life he leads and the social circle he’s constructed, there simply isn’t room for her in it. There’s not a logic to weaving herself into that existence.

So that’s the macro. Is it worth fighting for? There’s no real formula, but it starts with knowing yourself enough to know what you want and how you would fit in with a potential partner. The more yesses that appear, the more worth the fight it really is. And ironically, that’s how I’ve managed to stay fighting for my partner, through her own battle for sobriety and personal growth. I can see a future with her. Is it my only future? Absolutely not. But I like the one that could develop. And that makes that life well worth the effort right now.

But that still leaves the day-to-day decisions about what is worth fighting for and what is worth walking away from. And one of the easiest things I do is to just stop and think before I speak. When a situation arises, such as her using something to push me away or to create distance, I stop and really question my motives.

Is this something that really has to be said?

Is it something that has to be said right now?

Am I the person who needs to be the one to say it?

Those three questions have saved me so much hassle and headache. Because when I start worrying about saying the things that aren’t necessary to say, or that aren’t required for me to be the one to say them, then I avoid the unnecessary conflicts when I’m just trying to be right, prove a point, or convince her of something. Rather than jumping into speech, I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut, which is a tall order for someone who makes a living with words.

But it’s a lesson important enough not only to learn, but also to practice. And if you think about it, I have time to think about it day in and day out, not only in my romantic relationships, but also in my platonic interactions. I can’t describe how much I’ve alleviated stress just by learning to listen rather than trying to solve every problem around me. And I got there by finally admitting that not everything is my responsibility. Absolved from problem-solving duties, I am free to let other people fix their own problems, which means far fewer disagreements and arguments.

When there is an argument, I’m much likelier to be expending that energy on an issue that is truly important, such as figuring out a budget, or expressing my emotional needs or wants, or deciding who is doing dishes that night. The big stuff like that.

In the end, it’s down to the individual to decide how to manage the fight instinct. But management is healthier for everyone involved. And that kind of peace of mind along with less conflict is something truly invaluable.

Robert F. James is a lecturer in creative writing at San Jose State University. He’s been a professional writer his entire adult life, and his writings primarily focus on the challenges of modern masculinity. He lives on a small hobby farm in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California, where he raises chickens, rabbits, and ducks while managing a small garden. He’s been a Sailor, a pastor, a television and radio personality, and a professional piercer. His eclectic background lends itself to an exploratory aspect of his writing. His work is an authentic reflection of the issues he puzzles over on a daily basis, and he spends a good deal of time outdoors to process them. A large herd of deer on the property seem to respond favorably to his ramblings.

I remember the heady days of high school when I was first able to “date” on my own. Let’s face it, having a car or at least a license to borrow mom and dad’s opened up a whole new world. Rides to school. The hallway meetings hurrying between classes. The long lunches spent cuddling up and making out. It was all about connection. I certainly had no real social graces when it came to dating. I did what everyone did: dinner and a movie.

Dinner usually consisted of fast food.

Movie was whatever was starting at 7.

The funny thing is, I don’t remember any of the movies I saw during that time when I was out on dates. The movie was just the excuse. We wanted to be together. We wanted to be connected. And that last word is something that I tend to forget in the midst of my more “mature” relationships.

There’s all this amazing chemistry at the outset of a relationship. “New Relationship Energy.” It’s great being in this kind of honeymoon phase. It feels like it felt in high school. But unlike in high school, there’s all this other stuff that I have to pay attention to. I have to get up and go to work. I have to take care of my home. I have to pay my bills, fix my car, and keep up my obligations and appointments. Time is a commodity, and it doesn’t take long for life to take over from the rapture of being with someone new.

Unfortunately, though, chemistry isn’t connection. And chemistry, while it can always be present, isn’t the same as being grounded together and fostering that deepening bond. Also unfortunately is the fact that somewhere along the line, we stop being satisfied with just spending time together. I, for one, start relying on things that are more monetary in nature. I’ll send flowers. Or maybe I’ll take her out for dinner. And while those things are nice, they’re different from the things that are connecting.

Going to dinner is fine, but it doesn’t always have to be something extravagant. What about cooking dinner for her instead? What about making sure she has the things she likes always on hand? Try being attentive, because I get much more mileage out of genuine presence than I do the “things” I give to her.

It’s time.

And more than that, it’s quality time.

The things that stand out most for her? The days we went to the beach and just laid there watching the waves come in. Hours we sat there. We laughed. We talked. And it created an easy kind of rhythm for the afternoon, even giving us the opportunity to joke about the windburn we shared, or how much we had to pee by the time the afternoon was over!

There was a time we went hiking, and on a whim, I’d bought a dollar thing of bubbles. And we walked with her using the wand and blowing bubbles the entire time. She wasn’t in the best of moods when we first started. But it sure didn’t take long for things to get fun and silly and lighthearted; for her mood to ease, and for the afternoon to dissolve into tenderness. Because bubbles make everything fun. Go ahead. Tell me I’m wrong.

It’s funny. The things I enjoyed most as a kid: going for walks, playing games, watching movies, getting ice cream, sitting by the fire and making s’mores, going to the beach, or just hopping in the car and driving with no destination: those are the things that are some of the most enjoyable memories I have now as an adult.

Connecting starts with a foundation of time. And that requires both people to make time. Especially when both of us are busy, we make sure we make dates. We start talking about it days ahead of time. And sure, there’s sexual tension. We both enjoy each other sexually, and we talk about it as a way to amp up the tension. We send each other pictures and text messages, egging each other on. But it’s not just about showing up for the physical intimacy. It’s making time and just being present without some sort of agenda or routine.

Robert F. James is a lecturer in creative writing at San Jose State University. He’s been a professional writer his entire adult life, and his writings primarily focus on the challenges of modern masculinity. He lives on a small hobby farm in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California, where he raises chickens, rabbits, and ducks while managing a small garden. He’s been a Sailor, a pastor, a television and radio personality, and a professional piercer. His eclectic background lends itself to an exploratory aspect of his writing. His work is an authentic reflection of the issues he puzzles over on a daily basis, and he spends a good deal of time outdoors to process them. A large herd of deer on the property seem to respond favorably to his ramblings.

A few weeks ago, a violent windstorm tore through the mountains where I live. I spent a good portion of my day clearing downed limbs and debris from the drive. The trail, where I walk each day and meditate was particularly hard hit. About a mile and a half in, a massive oak had fallen across the path, blocking it.

The first time I walked the path, I got to the tree and turned around. After all, there was an obstacle in my path.

The second time I walked the trail, I found a way around it. On one side, the drop off was too steep, and there was no way to cross. But up on the hillside by the root ball, I could scale up and over. It wasn’t easy. And I returned the same way.

It wasn’t until the third time walking the trail that I realized I could just step over the tree. It really wasn’t that tall. I just saw it as an obstacle, and it felt like the way around had to be more complicated. When I did step over it, I laughed at myself.

There’s a couple I see walking the trail from time to time. I don’t know their names, but they always smile and say good morning and ask how I’m doing. We are never walking in the same direction, so we only have time for one joke. I say something my dad would say: “We should pack a picnic lunch for next time!” Something cheesy and silly that gives us a laugh.

The funny thing is, after I had learned I could just step over the tree, I saw them out there walking back from that direction. The woman said “There’s a tree down. The trail is blocked.”

I was puzzled. I just said “I just step over it.”

She looked equally puzzled. “Are you allowed to do that?”

In hindsight, it’s a silly question, but it’s too often true. When we see an obstacle in the path, we just assume either we can’t go around it or else we’re not supposed to. So we just give up and turn around. I’ve been guilty of that, far too many times in my life.

Then, I figure out I can find a way up and over or around the obstacle. But even then, I get used to the obstacle being there. When the rangers showed up last week with their chainsaws to hack the tree out the trail, I made a joke as I walked past: “I’m going to miss my obstacle.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that this, too, was a metaphor for how so many of us behave. We expect things to be hard. And we get used to defining ourselves by the obstacles we have to navigate. We don’t think we deserve a clear path.

But now that the obstacle is removed? I don’t actually miss it at all. I get to walk a trail that is open. I get to walk with purpose, and I don’t have to figure out a way to navigate around it.

The past few months, I’ve been busting my ass to remove the obstacles that prevented me from living the life I wanted. I’ve grown stronger. I’ve left personal interactions that were holding be back. I’ve claimed parts of my life and started fixing things that needed fixing, not avoiding them. I’m not the man I was, and I’m only getting stronger and more whole.

I realize I’ve been attached to all these obstacles in my life. I’ve used them as excuses. But now that they’re out of the way? Well, now there’s nothing preventing me from claiming the life I want. That makes me a force to be reckoned with. I’m stronger than any doubt; and I’m confident in my ability to do whatever it takes to succeed.

I’m not the man I was just a few months ago. I know what I’m worth. I know that I won’t settle.

I’ve already let go.

The path is clear.

I’m walking with purpose.

And I won’t stop.

Robert F. James is a lecturer in creative writing at San Jose State University. He’s been a professional writer his entire adult life, and his writings primarily focus on the challenges of modern masculinity. He lives on a small hobby farm in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California, where he raises chickens, rabbits, and ducks while managing a small garden. He’s been a Sailor, a pastor, a television and radio personality, and a professional piercer. His eclectic background lends itself to an exploratory aspect of his writing. His work is an authentic reflection of the issues he puzzles over on a daily basis, and he spends a good deal of time outdoors to process them. A large herd of deer on the property seem to respond favorably to his ramblings.

One of the sexiest things you can do is look your partner in the eye. I don’t mean some kind of fleeting glance. I mean genuinely lose yourself in her eyes; fall into them and risk losing yourself inside them. Today, we spend most of our time with our eyes glued to distractions: our phones; our laptops; the television. When we are with our partners, we’re pulling in any of myriad directions, and it can start to feel disconnecting and distancing rather than intimate and uniting.

There’s a science to falling in love with someone through eye contact.  More than 20 years ago, a psychologist by the name of Arthur Aron conducted an experiment to see if he could make two people fall in love with each other in his lab.  And the results were surprising. If two people have only a little commonality, but then spent a prescribed amount of time looking deeply into each others eyes, the likelihood of falling in love with that person is surprisingly high.

A year ago now, I had a woman come into my life. We were both were looking for a specific kind of relationship; one that revolved around a dynamic sex life as well as a power-exchange dynamic, where she could safely be submissive in the bedroom and I could be dominant. But after two dates, she was thinking I wasn’t capable of controlling her in that way. She liked the fact that I respected her, but she wasn’t convinced I could be anything other than simply a friend. And while there is a joy to cultivating a friendship, that wasn’t what I wanted. So when she agreed to come down to my apartment for the evening, I told her I wanted four minutes of her time as soon as she arrived.

I arrived at that time because she had taken to saying “good boy” every time I agreed with her. She did it four times in quick succession the day before she was to come down, as well as the day of our date. So I told her I wanted a minute for each of those texts, which really did grate on me. And when she arrived, she thought I was going to do something more extreme than what I did. I sat her at the end of a couch and made her look me in the eye for four minutes. I did this for one simple reason: I’d read her blog about being recently sober, and I knew from what she’d shared that she valued but was nervous about being seen for the person she was. She was learning to be vulnerable in that kind of setting.

What ensued, though, was more profound than what either of us had considered possible. There was a welling up of emotions during that time. We were able to cycle through some feelings of initial discomfort at being so close to each other but not speaking; allowing, instead, the power of our eye contact to carry the conversation for us. There was a amusement at just staring at one another. But then something else happened as those initial nerves and jitters wore down. We fell into a kind of intimacy and disbelief at the connection we were feeling. A couple minutes into the time, she put her hand on my chest, and I put mine on hers. It was a unifying moment that had nothing to do with sex or play or nakedness. It had everything to do with solidifying a connection. And when that time was up, she asked if we could keep going.

Needless to say, we continued.

And that eye contact, now, is part of our routine. When either of us feels off or disconnected, we come back together through quiet time spent simply looking into each other’s eyes.  It’s powerfully grounding as a couple. But it also is empowering as individuals. Each of us feels seen in the space we are. There’s no place to hide or to run. And for both of us, who are predisposed to either running or numbing our feelings, this kind of intimacy is a radical kind of presence.

So the suggestion is something very simple. Eye contact can be ritualized, and it’s a critical component to not only falling in love, but also in staying in love with a partner. The idea is to take just a few minutes each day to stop, be quiet, and to simply see each other as the person we are.  What you’ll find, I’ll bet, is an increased connectivity and validation in the roles you’ve chosen. There’s an appreciation. There’s a deepening desire. There’s more intimacy. And the resulting feeling is that nothing is more important than the person your looking at.

Then next time you’re sitting down for dinner, or before you settle into your evening routines, set aside 5 minutes and agree to power off the cell phones, turn off the television, and remove the distractions. Focus on the person you’re with, and let that person also accept you for who you are. There’s a good bet you’ll prove Dr. Aron’s studies, and create a surprisingly deep connection.

Robert F. James is a lecturer in creative writing at San Jose State University. He’s been a professional writer his entire adult life, and his writings primarily focus on the challenges of modern masculinity. He lives on a small hobby farm in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California, where he raises chickens, rabbits, and ducks while managing a small garden. He’s been a Sailor, a pastor, a television and radio personality, and a professional piercer. His eclectic background lends itself to an exploratory aspect of his writing. His work is an authentic reflection of the issues he puzzles over on a daily basis, and he spends a good deal of time outdoors to process them. A large herd of deer on the property seem to respond favorably to his ramblings.

As men, we’re often told that we’re visually stimulated. That’s why we have “wandering eyes” that are attracted to that pair of breasts, or those swaying hips. We say to ourselves that it can’t be helped. It’s just the nature of things. Do we have to look? I’m sure there are many female forms to pass in front of me without a notice because my focus was elsewhere. Say like on the woman I’m actually with. But if I do look, it’s ok? Because it is natural to do so.

But we have to be careful, because the idea that it’s just part of our male DNA isn’t really holy writ. Just as it’s also not always true that women are emotion-driven and can do without the visuals. All you have to do is take a look at the comments of women who are swooning over those 6-pack abs on that male model, or the web sites (adult and otherwise) geared toward the visual stimulation of women.

The fact is all genders can be visually stimulated. Given the right mood, a man or a woman might prefer the languid approach of an erotic short story. But in a different mood, the same person might prefer perusing pages of naked bodies to arouse and inspire fantasies.

Now here’s the real trick. Too often, we have guilt or shame around looking at attractive bodies. And the prevalence of adult web sites and the easy access to pornography actually exacerbates the challenge. It becomes easier to hide what it is that’s turning us on. And because there’s such guilt and shame associated with it, we do just that: we keep it from our spouses and partners. Both partners do it. But we’re forgetting a crucial part of the equation: our partners are the people we’ve chosen to explore with. Rather than hiding things, we should be embracing bringing things into the light.

Where I have seen the biggest disconnect isn’t that I look at pornography, or that my partner looks at pornography. The disconnect comes from feeling like I shouldn’t be looking at it, which then extends to an overarching unhealthy view of sex. Even the real sex, in person, with my partner. That suffers, because I can extend my guilt and shame to what should be a very natural exploration and connecting activity. It took me a long time to realize that my partner finds my body sexy. And just like I enjoy looking at her body, she also enjoys looking at mine.

Here are some things to keep in mind, then, to keep your sex life active and healthy.

1. Open Up. You don’t have to drag out every single list of sites you visited over the past decade. But start a conversation that encourages sharing rather than hiding. The next time a partner asks you to share a fantasy, take the opportunity to respond “Let me show you, instead.” You might just be surprised at what you get in response.
2. Compliment the way you want to be complimented. It’s a safe bet that your partner wants to hear what you find sexy about her. The same holds true for you. But for some reason, we don’t think that could possibly be the case. So instead of giving a compliment and then walking away from it, try this. Give a physical compliment: “I love the way your hip curves right here.” And after she responds, have the guts to ask her what her favorite part of your body is. It might surprise you.
3. Confidence is sexy. In fact, it’s an aphrodisiac. But we’re so used to seeing women as sexy, we forget that we can be sexy in the exact same way. Next time you get out of the shower and you have an erection, don’t run away from it. Let her see you aroused. And let her know that she’s the source of the arousal. Be confident enough to show your body in a way that makes both of you feel good. Let her know that you desire her. And show her how you want to be desired.
4. Communicate. This is a hard one, because we’re not supposed to share our feelings. The next time she asks you what you’re thinking, try being honest. Don’t make her guess or read your mind. She isn’t any better at it than you are. So speak your mind. Speak your fantasies. Own them. Because #4 is the truth. And the more #4 you have, the easier #5 becomes.
5. Have fun. Really, that’s all it is. What you and your partner are into might be completely different from what someone else likes. That’s ok. There’s no right or wrong way to engage in sex, unless you’re taking the joy and fun out of it. Then you should stop and remember what it was like when you were first discovering your own body, that first erection or first glimpse of a naked breast or pubic hair. Remember the excitement and anticipation the first time you kissed, or copped a feel, or made it to third base. Remember losing your virginity. It’s that it was new and exciting and you were filled with awe and wonder that another human being could touch you in such a way that you would lose all control. It was magical. And it was new. It doesn’t have to stop being that way, so smile and laugh and enjoy what you’re doing.

Robert F. James is a lecturer in creative writing at San Jose State University. He’s been a professional writer his entire adult life, and his writings primarily focus on the challenges of modern masculinity. He lives on a small hobby farm in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California, where he raises chickens, rabbits, and ducks while managing a small garden. He’s been a Sailor, a pastor, a television and radio personality, and a professional piercer. His eclectic background lends itself to an exploratory aspect of his writing. His work is an authentic reflection of the issues he puzzles over on a daily basis, and he spends a good deal of time outdoors to process them. A large herd of deer on the property seem to respond favorably to his ramblings.

Who am I, but a man who is coming to know himself? You won’t know me by the the car I drive, or where I live, or the clothes I wear. I’m confident, and I know what I deserve. And what I deserve is nothing less than a remarkable woman able to meet me as the man I am.

I see the pictures here. And I’m no different than any other man. Yes, I want a woman who smolders with hunger. I want a woman who is my passion, my fire, my sex. I want her to fuck me like a challenge, the two of us competing in carnality. I want her legs wrapped around me pulling me inside her deeper and harder into that line between pleasure and pain. I want nails digging into my back and teeth on my lip and guttural growls as she gyrates against me until we’re both left exhausted.

But I also want a woman who is soft, and knows how to kiss my neck and seduce me…to fall into me and love me slowly, teasing it out like an exquisite torture. I want the woman who knows how weak I am for the curve of her hip, the rise and fall of her breasts, the scent of her skin, and who knows that love, not lust, is what speaks to me the deepest.

I want a woman who knows I’m a knight in shining armor for her. But I want a woman who is able to help me take my armor off and just love me as a man; soft and vulnerable and sometimes insecure and uncertain.

I want a woman who wants my vulnerability as well as my strength. And I want a woman who will lean into me the same way I’ll lean into her. I want her to accept my weaknesses and flaws the way she loves my conviction and focus.

I want a woman who is growing and fighting to be better. And I want a woman who inspires me to do the same. I want a companion in that growth, each admiring the other and cheering each success.

I want a woman strong enough to bow at my feet, letting my strength wash over her like a warm rain. And I want a woman strong enough to kneel in front of me and understand when I get on the floor and kneel there with her, too, humbled and proud.

I want a woman who can stand with me as boldly as she surrenders to me.

I want a woman who is a partner.

I want a woman who will struggle with me in the world, and a woman who can keep me at arms length and say “It’s ok. I’ve got this.” And if she doesn’t, then I want a woman who’s ok with me helping her back to her feet, dusting her off, and saying “next time.”

I want a woman who sees in me all the potential I have to be a great man, but who understands that I’m more than lovable just as I am right now.

I want a woman who challenges herself every day, and who challenges me right along with her.

I want a woman who pushes me, and who wants me pushing her, too.

I want a woman who will get up in the morning and go walking my trail with me, but who also will roll over, kiss my cheek, and let me go because she wants time to herself; to just sleep in. And I want a woman who knows sometimes, I need to go walk by myself for me.

I want a woman who understands when I have a lazy day, and have no motivation at all.

I want a woman who understands that sometimes I need to write instead of focus on her, and who is ok with that.

I want someone who’ll sit with me over coffee. Who’ll let me make her dinner. Who’ll surprise me with dinner. And when neither of us is energetic enough for surprising, then is fine going out for pizza.

I want a woman who laughs. And I want a woman who brings out my laughter.

I want a woman who isn’t afraid to cry, either. A woman who will show me all of her thoughts: the dark ones that scare her, the sad ones that make her feel unwanted. I want a woman who isn’t afraid to trust me with everything, and who wants me to do the same.

I want a woman who asks me what I’m thinking, and genuinely wants to know. And who helps me actually speak my thoughts and feelings.

I want a woman I can listen to.

I want a woman who walks her own path and lets me walk mine. But who knows when it’s time to hold my hand and walk together.

I want a woman who is rooted in herself.

I want a woman who, when I’m lost, can light my path back home. And a woman who trusts that I’ll see that light.

I want a woman who knows I’ll do the same for her, holding that lantern high. And I want her to trust me, that I’ll be here the way she was here for me.

I want a woman who will put a loving finger to my rambling mouth and say “Shhh. I hear you. You don’t have to talk any more.” I want a woman I can be quiet with.

I want a woman who sees me as her safe place, and who lets me shower her with love and affection and attention. I want to be showered like that.

And I want a woman who lets go; no reservations and no hesitations and no second thoughts. Even if there are doubts, I want a woman who’ll voice them and who’ll let me voice mine and who will let us work through them together.

I want a woman I can go on a date with, and have that date last a lifetime.

I want a woman who is kinky as fuck and vanilla as cuddles under a blanket watching a movie on a Saturday night. I want a woman who is thankful when I throw her around the room, but is just as thankful when there’s no sex, not even sexual intent. When there is just comfort and presence and security and the warmth of being mine, and I hers.

I want a woman who looks over at me and sees the man she wants. A woman who I can claim, and who’ll claim me right back.

And who am I? I’m a man who knows he deserves all these things and more. I’m complex and complicated and flawed and human and perfect in all my imperfections. I’m a rock, but I’m also vulnerable. I make mistakes, but I make up for them, too. And when I sit down across from her and I hold her hands and I look into her eyes, she’ll recognize me.

I’m a Daddy. I’m a Sadist. I’m a Dominant, Owner. Master. But I’m those things to myself first before I can be those things to someone else. I’m best friend and confidante and lover. She companions all of those. But I’m also just me. And just me is quite enough.

I’m real.

That’s a dangerous kind of man to have in her life. But I think maybe it’s a greater risk not to. And she knows it, too.

I want a woman like that.

Robert F. James is a lecturer in creative writing at San Jose State University. He’s been a professional writer his entire adult life, and his writings primarily focus on the challenges of modern masculinity. He lives on a small hobby farm in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California, where he raises chickens, rabbits, and ducks while managing a small garden. He’s been a Sailor, a pastor, a television and radio personality, and a professional piercer. His eclectic background lends itself to an exploratory aspect of his writing. His work is an authentic reflection of the issues he puzzles over on a daily basis, and he spends a good deal of time outdoors to process them. A large herd of deer on the property seem to respond favorably to his ramblings.