<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166</id><updated>2011-10-30T20:20:03.483-07:00</updated><category term='My first post.'/><title type='text'>Bror</title><subtitle type='html'>Ready to follow a sign, if there only was a sign.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>46</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-8931832956825476230</id><published>2011-08-19T02:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T02:13:08.915-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been awhile.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Not much has changed in my world. I am still attracted to guys and married. Every time one of our kids heads off to college my wife mentions she feels the last one to leave will be me. I guess she has every right to believe this will happen. She worries she will be alone without anyone one day. I try to make her feel better but nothing works. I am sure it's because of who I am. The subject of divorce comes up every once in a while. We usually just talk about it and it goes away for for a bit, but it always resurfaces sooner or later. I think it's good we can talk about most anything comfortable or not. I have done some things lately that have made her feel sad. I hate when I make her feel sad. It seems to take her longer to get over the feeling. She feels that we are on totally different pages. I agree. I don't know that we have ever been on the same page. I don't think that is always a bad thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-8931832956825476230?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/8931832956825476230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=8931832956825476230' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/8931832956825476230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/8931832956825476230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2011/08/its-been-awhile.html' title='It&apos;s been awhile.'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-5210235085191017652</id><published>2011-05-25T23:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T23:35:38.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Family</title><content type='html'>Well the in-laws are coming for a visit. It's a long one too, a whole week! They never come and stay for a whole week. I know they have been asking around the family why I haven't been so "active" in church lately. They don't know about me or my son. I have been thinking about just letting it rip and telling them while they are here. But we all know that "coming out" to the family doesn't necessarily change things much other than they know. Some understand and some think you should just quit being a big homo because it's wrong. Anyway, have a great memorial weekend everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-5210235085191017652?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/5210235085191017652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=5210235085191017652' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5210235085191017652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5210235085191017652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2011/05/family.html' title='The Family'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-5271349708760146226</id><published>2011-05-01T00:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-01T00:11:15.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am still here.</title><content type='html'>It has been to long since my last post. I am always going to write tomorrow. I guess it's finally tomorrow tonight. Nothing has changed much in my life, I am still married with kids. The kids are slowly leaving the nest and our youngest with be here for a while. My wife still loves me very much and tries to understand why I do the things I do.&lt;br /&gt;Since my last post I went on a Bromance trip to Europe for 2 weeks. The wife left to see her sister to avoid seeing me off to the airport. Needless to say, she was upset but I went anyway. It didn't help that I had a crush on the guy either. I guess it was just something I had to do. I wanted to get away from everything and chill a bit. The trip was mostly sight seeing. I was in the car traveling at least 8 to 10 hours a day. I saw and learned a lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-5271349708760146226?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/5271349708760146226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=5271349708760146226' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5271349708760146226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5271349708760146226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-am-still-here.html' title='I am still here.'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-2382437815495402793</id><published>2011-02-17T06:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T06:13:09.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Start Spreading the News.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;I finally told my oldest son that I am attracted to men. I just felt the need to tell him. He was awesome about the news. He said it made no difference in how he feels about me. He loves me very much and I will always be his Dad no matter what. I feel that we are closer now and it feels great. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I sent a text to my wife with the news. She said she felt like she was going to throw up. She wondered how my son took the news. Let's just say she now has someone else to talk to and it feels great f or her too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-2382437815495402793?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/2382437815495402793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=2382437815495402793' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2382437815495402793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2382437815495402793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2011/02/start-spreading-news.html' title='Start Spreading the News.'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-5014273547617012431</id><published>2010-12-25T07:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-25T07:12:06.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Merry Christmas Everyone and A Happy New Year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-5014273547617012431?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/5014273547617012431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=5014273547617012431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5014273547617012431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5014273547617012431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/12/merry-christmas-everyone-and-happy-new.html' title=''/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-2144426380818708081</id><published>2010-10-10T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T22:54:06.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Official</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt; Well, my son told me today he is in a relationship. He said he has a boyfriend. I must be honest and say I had a feeling his new friend was more than just a friend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;It's funny how I felt when he finally told me.&amp;nbsp; I have been crying about it quite a bit today. The tears are mainly for what lies ahead for him. I pray he makes good choices and finds what he needs in this life. I did tell him I love him very much and will always be his Dad no matter what life brings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-2144426380818708081?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/2144426380818708081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=2144426380818708081' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2144426380818708081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2144426380818708081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/10/its-official.html' title='It&apos;s Official'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-5925885871676139844</id><published>2010-07-13T00:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T00:55:50.727-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tell me.................</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Tell me is it right that I want to spend time with my friend who is messing with my inner feelings. Is it right that I go on long day trips and enjoy the awesome outdoors with him. Is it right I have him over for dinner with my family. Is it right that I think of him often through the day. Is it right that I repair things for him. Is it right that that I even have these feelings inside of me. Is it right that I cannot make them go away. Is it right that maybe I don't want them to go away. Is it right to try and live in both worlds. Is it right the pain I cause those close to me because of who I am. Is it right............&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-5925885871676139844?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/5925885871676139844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=5925885871676139844' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5925885871676139844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5925885871676139844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/07/tell-me.html' title='Tell me.................'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-819987933986911268</id><published>2010-07-02T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-03T07:01:19.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kyle called.......</title><content type='html'>My wife said that Kyle called and wanted me to fix some things around the house.Things like the outside water faucet, the lawn mower, the back door, etc. I have been bad about getting things fixed around the house. I am trying to do better.&lt;br /&gt;She says I would do anything for Kyle. She caught me off guard.&amp;nbsp; I do like him a lot and I am guilty of doing a lot of things for him. He is only here for a short time.&amp;nbsp; I just like to use my connections to help his stay here be the best possible. I have a crush on him.&lt;br /&gt;She says you love him don't you.&amp;nbsp; Yes, I do. There are things I do love about him. I love the way he makes me feel when in his presence. I love his Christlike nature. I love his desire to do good and make our town a better place to live. I love how he takes care of the poor and the needy. The kids&amp;nbsp; love him so much. I see it when he is spending time with them. They hug and love him so. I love his smile. It is contagious. I love going hiking with him. He wants to see as much of Utah before he leaves. I want to help him do that.&lt;br /&gt;My wife asks were does she fit in the picture? She says she does not have what I need. She cries and asks if I want to leave and discover my other needs. It breaks my heart she feels this way.&amp;nbsp; I do love her with all my heart, mind and soul. I don't want to leave.&amp;nbsp; I just have this other need that is never going away, I can't suppress it anymore. I need my Moho and guy friends.&lt;br /&gt;I am all scrambled up inside. I don't know how to unscramble things. I want to but I can't. Sometimes when I think about it I cry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-819987933986911268?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/819987933986911268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=819987933986911268' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/819987933986911268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/819987933986911268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/07/kyle-called.html' title='Kyle called.......'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-5291401584724465507</id><published>2010-06-26T02:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T02:55:04.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Summer is here and all that comes with it. The heat, sun, and long days that make me want to get out and run. I have a goal to go hiking at least once of week. So far I have been twice. It's fun and it's great being in the great outdoors. And don't forget all that exposed man flesh for the viewing! Ah summer, you gotta love it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-5291401584724465507?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/5291401584724465507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=5291401584724465507' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5291401584724465507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5291401584724465507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/06/summer.html' title='Summer'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-6095147878382829607</id><published>2010-04-29T22:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T22:41:43.915-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moho Lunch</title><content type='html'>I had the chance to have a Moho lunch with Scott the other day. It was fun to meet in person and just bs about life. It does the soul good. It was nice Scott took the time out of a busy day to spend time with me. Now I just need to meet Sarah and the kids. Good times. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-6095147878382829607?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/6095147878382829607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=6095147878382829607' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6095147878382829607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6095147878382829607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/04/moho-lunch.html' title='Moho Lunch'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-500799811588229028</id><published>2010-04-22T02:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T10:01:54.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mission</title><content type='html'>My oldest son has decided to go on a mission. Why am I not totally thrilled about it. If I were a total Peter Priesthood, I would be happy as hell. I know me being a homo has a lot to do with it. I am not temple worthy at the moment because I don't pay my tithing and I have been inactive for quite a while.&amp;nbsp; And to be honest deep down inside I don't feel like doing anything to become temple worthy. Because of this, my bishop won't even let me baptize my youngest son. He is almost 9 years old. I guess I will have my oldest son baptize him to save him from having to take the missionary lessons. My wife says I am anti Mormon. I really don't feel like this is the case. I am just a Mormon who also happens to be a homo. Where does a guy like me fit in the big family plan? The way I feel inside doesn't jive with the church.&amp;nbsp; I hate it sometimes. I want to do what is right but I really don't know what that is at the moment. What seems right for me and what seems right for the family are two totally different things. Ah the life of a married Moho. :) I better start on that pinewood derby car that is due to race on Monday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-500799811588229028?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/500799811588229028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=500799811588229028' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/500799811588229028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/500799811588229028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/04/mission.html' title='Mission'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-8746027612298737902</id><published>2010-04-08T23:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T23:42:25.428-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boss</title><content type='html'>I hate my boss today. I just thought I would share this with everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-8746027612298737902?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/8746027612298737902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=8746027612298737902' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/8746027612298737902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/8746027612298737902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/04/boss.html' title='Boss'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-7309621589393393990</id><published>2010-03-29T15:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T15:14:04.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>At the gateway :) where are all my Moho Friends?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-7309621589393393990?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/7309621589393393990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=7309621589393393990' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/7309621589393393990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/7309621589393393990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/03/at-gateway-where-are-all-my-moho.html' title=''/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-2045878304045535043</id><published>2010-03-25T23:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T23:21:13.405-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Las Vegas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/S6xSOvJ-GoI/AAAAAAAAAF0/-_PxyNecGng/s1600/las+vegas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" nt="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/S6xSOvJ-GoI/AAAAAAAAAF0/-_PxyNecGng/s320/las+vegas.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I am headed to Las Vegas to chill and have some fun. I love to hang on the strip and watch people the most. So if you see me there be sure to say hi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-2045878304045535043?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/2045878304045535043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=2045878304045535043' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2045878304045535043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2045878304045535043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/03/las-vegas.html' title='Las Vegas'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/S6xSOvJ-GoI/AAAAAAAAAF0/-_PxyNecGng/s72-c/las+vegas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-7437951654870953535</id><published>2010-02-13T18:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T18:46:55.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crush</title><content type='html'>I remember my first major crush. It happened while working at a summer resort. He was a city boy and I was a country boy. I never told him that I thought he was god's gift for the summer. I just tried to hang with him as much as possible before he left at the summer's end. But, he loved the girls and they loved him. If this weren't so who knows what may have happened. It was a fun summer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-7437951654870953535?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/7437951654870953535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=7437951654870953535' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/7437951654870953535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/7437951654870953535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/02/crush.html' title='Crush'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-6390789729723833492</id><published>2010-01-12T23:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T23:46:05.075-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Why does my bishop believe people choose to be gay. I really don't understand this one at all. He should believe differently as he has gay members in his family. I don't ever remember choosing to be gay. It's like saying we all choose at some time in our life if we are either homosexual or heterosexual. I don't remember any day like that in my life ever. I have always known. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-6390789729723833492?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/6390789729723833492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=6390789729723833492' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6390789729723833492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6390789729723833492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2010/01/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-1306266039474127832</id><published>2009-12-31T23:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T23:14:50.532-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year</title><content type='html'>I wish you all the best for 2010.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the friendship.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-1306266039474127832?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/1306266039474127832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=1306266039474127832' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/1306266039474127832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/1306266039474127832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/12/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-6426078297980309268</id><published>2009-12-22T11:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T11:37:37.144-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, don't pass out. It's really a post from me. I have been reading all the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;moho&lt;/span&gt; blogs and I am always going to post something tomorrow. So, I guess tomorrow is finally here.  I have not been doing much but working, washing dishes (makes wife happy) and going to my kids sporting events. My favorite being the sporting events. I love watching my kids play basketball the most. It can be so intense at times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It's also nice to have all the kids home for the holidays. So far none of them are married so I don't have to share them yet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going with the family to the in-laws for the Christmas holidays. I am not to thrilled about it, but I am trying to be nice and positive. I just like to stay home for Christmas. It's not the same at some other home. Who wants to haul all the stuff and put it under grandma's fake homophobic tree when we have our own nice "Kmart blue light special" tree right here at home. Anyway, I am going, wish me luck.&lt;br /&gt;I have really enjoyed the snow this year.  I have enjoyed keeping the fire burning and the house warm. It's suppose to snow again tomorrow, I just hope it is finished by the time we hit the road to grandma's. The roads have been snowed packed in town ever since the first storm. I love waking up each morning to the frost on the trees and everything. It's such and awesome sight.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I am thankful for the friends I have made here and wish you all the best. I am looking forward to another year of being with the moho bloggers.&lt;br /&gt;Big Hug for everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Bror&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-6426078297980309268?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/6426078297980309268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=6426078297980309268' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6426078297980309268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6426078297980309268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-8454693884529872179</id><published>2009-11-13T17:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T17:45:39.804-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Friday night in salt lake city :) hanging out at the gateway with the family. Fun times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-8454693884529872179?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/8454693884529872179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=8454693884529872179' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/8454693884529872179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/8454693884529872179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/11/friday-night-in-salt-lake-city-hanging.html' title=''/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-6632469853110697150</id><published>2009-11-10T20:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T06:16:37.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>World's Apart</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yes, tonight I feel a world apart from my wife. It's my fault. I'm not giving her all she needs in our marriage. I don't know what to do. Yes, I wish it would go away and leave me alone. Yes, I feel terrible inside just like she does, but her feelings are validated by the world, the feelings I have are not. Is our love &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hezrh9HoqIc"&gt;fatal&lt;/a&gt; for each other. Is it like poison, slowly killing us? Can just one need ruin everything we have? We are so different like light and dark, hate and love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-6632469853110697150?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/6632469853110697150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=6632469853110697150' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6632469853110697150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6632469853110697150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/11/worlds-apart.html' title='World&apos;s Apart'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-7566318489197066892</id><published>2009-11-02T22:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T23:09:51.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reminded</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Yeah, the feelings were stirred a bit in the ole body tonight. It happens ever so often. Handsome guy comes along and reminds me of what I am.  The feelings are intense enough I do things for him I wouldn't do for anyone else. I am getting braver in my old age. I need more than just a good look to satisfy me. I need a name, where they are from and where they are going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-7566318489197066892?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/7566318489197066892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=7566318489197066892' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/7566318489197066892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/7566318489197066892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/11/reminded.html' title='Reminded'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-2869432710645580790</id><published>2009-10-09T15:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T15:20:51.115-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Is chilling out in down town salt lake city for the weekend :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-2869432710645580790?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/2869432710645580790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=2869432710645580790' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2869432710645580790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2869432710645580790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/10/is-chilling-out-in-down-town-salt-lake.html' title=''/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-1587442508190249875</id><published>2009-10-07T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T08:03:11.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She says......</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;She feels that she must choose between me and the church.  I am not Mormon enough. Being who I am, I guess I will never be Mormon enough. Maybe she loves the church more than me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-1587442508190249875?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/1587442508190249875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=1587442508190249875' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/1587442508190249875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/1587442508190249875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/10/she-says.html' title='She says......'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-4134003734756460479</id><published>2009-09-28T00:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T00:20:39.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SsBjngsnlcI/AAAAAAAAAFo/_AkvtmFu_zE/s1600-h/cave+man.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 94px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SsBjngsnlcI/AAAAAAAAAFo/_AkvtmFu_zE/s200/cave+man.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386414684778239426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Tonight is one of those nights were I just need to go into my man cave and chill. I don't want to be a husband, dad, boss or homo. I just need to do nothing and rest a bit and recharge my batteries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-4134003734756460479?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/4134003734756460479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=4134003734756460479' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/4134003734756460479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/4134003734756460479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/09/tonight.html' title='Tonight'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SsBjngsnlcI/AAAAAAAAAFo/_AkvtmFu_zE/s72-c/cave+man.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-1650250314299506647</id><published>2009-09-16T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T21:49:22.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm OK</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SrG8Zuv4QBI/AAAAAAAAAFg/HvLyFGAlMoo/s1600-h/Picture+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SrG8Zuv4QBI/AAAAAAAAAFg/HvLyFGAlMoo/s200/Picture+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382290179916054546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yes, I am still here. Sorry I have not posted in a while. It's not that I haven't wanted to post. I have much to say, but sometimes I just don't know how to say it. Maybe if I would write on my blog more it would be easier to write what I have to say.&lt;br /&gt;I never really have anything new to say. Just things about  everyday life. I don't worry about the church stuff to much because I don't see things changing there much in my life time. I just try to work on my own family and help them to understand what it really means to be gay.&lt;br /&gt;The seminary teacher told my kids the other day that one chooses to be gay. Also, that all gays will all be in the lowest kingdom in heaven because of this "choice".  They will be there with all the other scum of the earth.  What a bunch of bullshit. Why would anyone choose to be gay. I am not angry, because I know the teacher is so ignorant on the subject of being gay. I have known the teacher most of my whole life. But I am glad to say my kids don't agree. One even suggested that maybe the teacher needs to watch "Prayers for Bobby" or read the book. I was proud of them. By the way, I am not out to my kids.&lt;br /&gt;For some reason, I have also thought that after telling my wife about me be gay that my life would be easier. Well, it some ways it is and some ways it is not. Most months seem the same. She usually has one week out of the month that basically she can't stand me. It is always about the physical attraction part. The thought of me being gay or with another man makes her sick. I am like please, not again. I know I messed up thinking one day this gayness would be lifted from me. But must I suffer every month for it. I guess it is so. There is nothing I can do about. She threatens to leave for a man who worships her physically.  I have told that if she must do it I would not stop her. I understand. But I ask her if she thinks he would love her anymore than I do. Would the rest of the marriage measure up to what we have?  Would he be nice to her and take care of her? Would he whisper he loved her in her ear? If this need was filled would the rest of the marriage really matter? She would be so happy being physically satisfied maybe it wouldn't matter. I can't even answer these question for myself when she says she is not what I want. But we hash it over each month. I am to often reminded that I am attracted to the male body. I use to try and talk myself out of it. But I can't anymore. I have accepted the fact that a handsome guy is going to make me realize I am as gay as they come. I don't run away from it anymore. And so goes the life in a MOM marriage. What a blessing this blog is for me. Hey, I'm ok :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-1650250314299506647?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/1650250314299506647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=1650250314299506647' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/1650250314299506647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/1650250314299506647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/09/im-ok.html' title='I&apos;m OK'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SrG8Zuv4QBI/AAAAAAAAAFg/HvLyFGAlMoo/s72-c/Picture+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-7573800719629069989</id><published>2009-07-12T19:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T11:06:41.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Detox</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SlqkfbBB10I/AAAAAAAAAEY/utnkn8Wh5hY/s1600-h/detox.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 125px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 91px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357775566445598530" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SlqkfbBB10I/AAAAAAAAAEY/utnkn8Wh5hY/s200/detox.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I just spent some time with my wife's family. It was reunion time and everyone was there that mattered. It was good to see everyone. The only thing that bothered me was all the gay bashing that goes on. I am only out to my wife so no one knows my secret and I have no desire to tell them at the moment. I can handle the bashing, but I m&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/Slql6EcLyxI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ekTGX1oMsjI/s1600-h/detox2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 135px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 89px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357777123753577234" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/Slql6EcLyxI/AAAAAAAAAEw/ekTGX1oMsjI/s200/detox2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ust say I wonder what they would be like if they knew? Would knowing this &lt;strong&gt;detox&lt;/strong&gt; them of all the misinformation and ideas they have of what it's like to be gay? They really are clueless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I don't know how many times I hear from them that you choose to be gay. Duh, this is a no brainer for anyone who is gay. It is like saying they choose to be heter&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/Slqq7LLDNEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/L9SAKyc_lSs/s1600-h/detox3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 125px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 125px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357782640298767426" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/Slqq7LLDNEI/AAAAAAAAAE4/L9SAKyc_lSs/s200/detox3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;osexual. It was never a choice for me. For those of you that have come out to the family, has it helped to detox them of all the wrong ideas and misinformation or has it made them shun you and pretend you don't exist? I would love to hear your story. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-7573800719629069989?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/7573800719629069989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=7573800719629069989' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/7573800719629069989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/7573800719629069989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/07/detox.html' title='Detox'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SlqkfbBB10I/AAAAAAAAAEY/utnkn8Wh5hY/s72-c/detox.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-6264448576023602529</id><published>2009-07-10T14:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T14:57:52.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am happy that some of my tomatoes are finally turning red. I can't wait to eat them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-6264448576023602529?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/6264448576023602529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=6264448576023602529' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6264448576023602529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6264448576023602529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-am-happy-that-some-of-my-tomatoes-are.html' title=''/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-5027484914610051732</id><published>2009-07-09T22:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T22:51:12.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Testing 1 2 3 4&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-5027484914610051732?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/5027484914610051732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=5027484914610051732' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5027484914610051732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5027484914610051732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/07/testing-1-2-3-4.html' title=''/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-1071628949476245532</id><published>2009-06-28T21:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T22:21:31.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fake</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SkhMo-oMz1I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/cuhKNte5KsI/s1600-h/real+or+fake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 124px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 86px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352612424019922770" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SkhMo-oMz1I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/cuhKNte5KsI/s200/real+or+fake.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The other night my wife was in one of her fun it-sucks-my-husband-is-gay moods. In a fun way, she was being a smart ass about me being gay. Asking questions like, if I had this or that would you be attracted to me. If she didn't shave her under arms and legs and gave me whisker burn would it turn me on. If she joined the gym and got all buff would I like her lean body? I am cracking up but answering the questions. So after a while I give her a hug and she said, "so all the hugs and kisses you have given me have been fake because you want to be with a man?". Of course I answered, no they are genuine hugs and kisses from me. I know this to be true but how do I make her feel that they are? Wow, she has got me thinking. At least she didn't bring up the "I feel like your sister" topic. I don't know, am I being fake?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-1071628949476245532?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/1071628949476245532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=1071628949476245532' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/1071628949476245532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/1071628949476245532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/06/fake.html' title='Fake'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SkhMo-oMz1I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/cuhKNte5KsI/s72-c/real+or+fake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-1739363215779431487</id><published>2009-06-16T20:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T04:55:40.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Machine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SjhtO_B2AdI/AAAAAAAAAEI/QxDU09P5VNk/s1600-h/melted+butter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 143px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348144661707227602" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SjhtO_B2AdI/AAAAAAAAAEI/QxDU09P5VNk/s200/melted+butter.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As we all know, sometimes in a mom marriage we have occasional melt downs. During the last minor melt down my wife said she knew the reason I married her. I just wanted a baby machine. Someone to pop out kids for me. And now that baby time is over, I didn't need her anymore. I am free to find a boyfriend and run off and live happily ever after. I am like, what the hell, where does she come up with this stuff. That's not the reason I got married at all. I thought I pushed all the right buttons when I got married. I have always wanted to be a father since I can remember. But marrying her as a baby machine was not the reason at all. Yes, I knew I was gay. No, I did not tell her my secret. Do I think I should have told her my secret before we got married? Yes, I do now. Does she believe me when I tell her that I thought by being Peter Priesthood and "doing what is right" I would be cured of my male attractions? Hmmm, I don't know. Do I regret my decision to get married? No I don't. Do I feel very lucky to have kids? Yes, very! If I knew then what I know now, would I get married. I don't know. Then the chill sets in and the melt down is over. We tell each other we are sorry and we laugh about it and get on with life. There will be more melt downs. This baby machine theory makes me smile. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-1739363215779431487?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/1739363215779431487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=1739363215779431487' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/1739363215779431487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/1739363215779431487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/06/baby-machine.html' title='Baby Machine'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SjhtO_B2AdI/AAAAAAAAAEI/QxDU09P5VNk/s72-c/melted+butter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-6950561375517280133</id><published>2009-05-24T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T14:09:58.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Desert</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/ShmQbnqUCeI/AAAAAAAAAD4/fJDkl2n46cA/s1600-h/HPIM2905.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 149px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339457637401758178" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/ShmQbnqUCeI/AAAAAAAAAD4/fJDkl2n46cA/s200/HPIM2905.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The desert is in bloom. It is nice to have some color along my running trail. To bad the blooms don't last very long. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/ShmRbkK8lNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/KYK92lwM8gY/s1600-h/HPIM2901.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 149px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339458735976518866" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/ShmRbkK8lNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/KYK92lwM8gY/s200/HPIM2901.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-6950561375517280133?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/6950561375517280133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=6950561375517280133' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6950561375517280133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6950561375517280133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/05/desert.html' title='Desert'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/ShmQbnqUCeI/AAAAAAAAAD4/fJDkl2n46cA/s72-c/HPIM2905.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-5028415954273661226</id><published>2009-05-10T22:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T21:32:08.255-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shadow</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;My wife and I had the big long talk the other night. I don't know why because we both had to be up early the next morning. We talked about a lot of things related to our mom marriage. She has several concerns and we rehashed each one of them over again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;One concern is we are not as intimate as we once were. Hmmm, I will take the blame for that myself. What use to work for me is not working now. It really bothers her that I am not attracted to the female body. She feels like she has no reason to look good anymore because I could care less what she looks like nude. It bothers me when she says things like this. Even though it is partly true. She knows my secret, I can't fake it anymore. She is very beautiful and would drive any hetero guy insane. But for me, well, you know. I'm trying to better this part of the marriage.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;She also worries because I am basically inactive in church even though I go quite often. I mainly go for my youngest child. I have said no to all jobs for about 5 years now. It's not like I planned it this way. I just can't "fit the mold" as Scott has said. I want to go and be Peter Priesthood but I can't. I just don't know where I fit in and I don't want to pretend anymore. My wife doesn't understand my feelings. She says I have never acted on these feeling so what am I worried about. But that doesn't make me feel like I "fit the mold" any better. I guess I want a moho quorum. :) She use to feel that the attraction to males was only physical. That one hot night with a guy and I would be good. She didn't realize there was an emotional part the the relationship too. I think this new discovery bothers her the most. To be honest I don't really know what I want myself. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;living in the shadow&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bror&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-7SwGg327Jw&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-7SwGg327Jw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-5028415954273661226?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/5028415954273661226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=5028415954273661226' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5028415954273661226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5028415954273661226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/05/shadow.html' title='Shadow'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-4924004126815109811</id><published>2009-05-04T22:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T23:03:54.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/Sf_WH51iBaI/AAAAAAAAADo/QwTj0BKnzn8/s1600-h/HPIM3250.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 149px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332215915102733730" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/Sf_WH51iBaI/AAAAAAAAADo/QwTj0BKnzn8/s200/HPIM3250.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes I wish to hang with a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;moho&lt;/span&gt; friend. I don't know of any near by since I live out in the sticks. But at times, like tonight, it would be fun to go out to eat and bullshit for a while about life. There is nothing like talking to someone who knows you about as well as you know yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-4924004126815109811?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/4924004126815109811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=4924004126815109811' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/4924004126815109811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/4924004126815109811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/05/sometimes.html' title='Sometimes'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/Sf_WH51iBaI/AAAAAAAAADo/QwTj0BKnzn8/s72-c/HPIM3250.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-6633502312780329062</id><published>2009-03-09T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T23:52:13.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Natural</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SbaluR9-viI/AAAAAAAAADg/-9LA9XXavWc/s1600-h/IMG_0743+liten.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311615025046011426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SbaluR9-viI/AAAAAAAAADg/-9LA9XXavWc/s200/IMG_0743+liten.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It so natural to be attracted to the male body. I am constantly reminded throughout each day of my life. This characteristic has a way of coming to the surface suddenly. Who is this guy that reminds me. He could be anyone really. Nothing special triggers this attraction. When it happens, what do I notice first? His smile, eyes, body, intellect, how he says "hi"? I don't know really. Maybe it's the combination of all of them. I really don't know. It's just there, a part of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-6633502312780329062?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/6633502312780329062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=6633502312780329062' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6633502312780329062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6633502312780329062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/03/natural.html' title='Natural'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SbaluR9-viI/AAAAAAAAADg/-9LA9XXavWc/s72-c/IMG_0743+liten.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-2965739390007655227</id><published>2009-01-16T22:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T23:42:11.108-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretending</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SXGLfQH26SI/AAAAAAAAADI/9oyfCOmBUsg/s1600-h/Dock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292164406157175074" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SXGLfQH26SI/AAAAAAAAADI/9oyfCOmBUsg/s200/Dock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;When my wife and I go on little trips my ssa always comes up. I guess it is because the kids are not in the car and we can speak at will. The one topic that comes up the most is my attraction to the physical male body. It bothers her the most that I am not attracted to the female body. For the longest time she thought that she could cure me by losing weight, getting breast augmentation, nose job, new hair cut etc. I must say, my wife needs none of these. She has always taken such good care of herself. She has classic beauty that never fades. She needs to do nothing to herself. She has only wanted to do these things to make me want her in the way a "lover" would. I guess it just bothers me that this is the one need I cannot fulfill for her. How do I make her feel I am her "heterosexual lover" when in all reality I am not. She asks me why I can't just "pretend" it's true. I guess I have been "pretending" all these years. It was much easier pretending when she didn't know about me and I had faith that one day I wouldn't have to pretend anymore. I don't have that faith anymore. What if one day she finds this "lover"? Not that she is looking. Things are different. I think about it a lot. What does the future hold? I don't know really. I live one day at a time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-2965739390007655227?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/2965739390007655227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=2965739390007655227' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2965739390007655227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2965739390007655227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/01/pretending.html' title='Pretending'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SXGLfQH26SI/AAAAAAAAADI/9oyfCOmBUsg/s72-c/Dock.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-8251436775000149337</id><published>2009-01-08T20:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T07:39:37.938-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I Fall Apart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SWb1E59B9gI/AAAAAAAAACw/TcyJjYR3i7w/s1600-h/Desert+Landscape.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289184277018310146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SWb1E59B9gI/AAAAAAAAACw/TcyJjYR3i7w/s320/Desert+Landscape.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Every so often I fall apart. I couldn't really tell you why. But it happens and I usually come out OK. Reading Becks last Greek Tragedy post really hit home. To be honest, it made me cry inside for several days after I read it. Everything he says in the post is true of my marriage too. I read it several times and wanted to comment, but I couldn't, I was to over come with emotion. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My wife has told me many times she feels more like my sister and not my lover. Yes, it hurts to hear this coming from her. I want to be this lover but I can't. She knows my secret. I finally figured this out about 5 years ago, it's not going to happen. It sucks, but it's true. I do love her with all my heart. It just isn't the "lover love" she needs. Sometimes I can't believe that I use to believe if I got married and lived the good Mormon life my ssa would leave me. I would be cured. It seems so crazy now. And to make things worse, I believe that one of my children suffers from this same ssa attraction. It breaks my heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I do get strength to battle life from being here, reading and sharing my life with my moho family. It's a good place to be for me. Things are better now. Thanks &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-8251436775000149337?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/8251436775000149337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=8251436775000149337' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/8251436775000149337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/8251436775000149337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2009/01/sometimes-i-fall-apart.html' title='Sometimes I Fall Apart'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SWb1E59B9gI/AAAAAAAAACw/TcyJjYR3i7w/s72-c/Desert+Landscape.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-6848309519722380442</id><published>2008-12-23T09:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T09:34:39.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I just wanted to wish everyone a Merry  Christmas. I can't believe it is almost here and I have not been shopping.  I usally get it done early but not this year. I don't know what to buy anyway. I am a terrible shopper unless it is something for me. I haven't even got anything for my wife yet. hmmmm not good. I had better find something or she might send me another one of her mean text messages. haha Check out her last post. &lt;a href="http://cici1966.blogspot.com/2008/12/random-thoughts.html"&gt;CiCi &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Merry Christmas everyone and a Happy New Year.&lt;br /&gt;I love you all&lt;br /&gt;Bror :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-6848309519722380442?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/6848309519722380442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=6848309519722380442' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6848309519722380442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6848309519722380442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2008/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-2014460553348167481</id><published>2008-11-16T15:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T06:32:17.066-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sitting on the Fence</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SSCyr2HjoQI/AAAAAAAAACo/Srj4QFra4Qs/s1600-h/sitting+on+the+fence.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269408030354809090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SSCyr2HjoQI/AAAAAAAAACo/Srj4QFra4Qs/s200/sitting+on+the+fence.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Since I started blogging I have learned so much about myself. The most important thing being that I am not alone in being Mormon and homosexual. It is amazing how we all are so much the same, the same thoughts, feelings, desires etc. It feels so good to finally be among men and women who totally understand me. I look forward to reading the posts daily. I just feel with what I read in most of the posts, I am really just sitting on the fence. I need to get more involved with the issues. I am not sure what the that means, but in the mean time, I sure like being here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The other night I mentioned to my wife that I wanted to go to Scott's moho party. I totally loved the idea. I have even thought of having one myself. She imediately replied with something so familiar to Beck "so what's next? I suppose you and your moho friends with have a float in the pride festival next year" I had to laugh. I thought of Abelard being in charge of the float to make sure everything was up to code. I could wear the standard moho attire to show people how normal looking I am. Anyway, I do tell her everything and she has even started blogging too. She was a bit emotional at first from reading all the moho posts and reading first hand the true feelings posted here. The thing that shocked her the most is that there is an emotional side to being gay. It's just not all about having sex with a man. It is so much more, other than being attracted to men, the basic needs are the same. My wife has started blogging, so if you are interested in what she has to say here is her blog &lt;a href="http://http//cici1966.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://http//cici1966.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-2014460553348167481?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/2014460553348167481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=2014460553348167481' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2014460553348167481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2014460553348167481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2008/11/sitting-on-fence.html' title='Sitting on the Fence'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SSCyr2HjoQI/AAAAAAAAACo/Srj4QFra4Qs/s72-c/sitting+on+the+fence.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-5509013288025955200</id><published>2008-11-05T22:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T07:27:53.176-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Home Evening Maybe</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SRMLQj-rDAI/AAAAAAAAACg/DC0S1QPKL_8/s1600-h/metallica.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265564768490163202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SRMLQj-rDAI/AAAAAAAAACg/DC0S1QPKL_8/s320/metallica.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, I went to the Metallica concert last monday in Salt Lake City. I didn't care for the two warm up bands but Metallica was awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I attended my first Metallica concert around 4 years ago with my son. I felt he was to young to go on his own, so I gave in, and bought the tickets. Much to my surprise, I had a great time. I became a fan. Anyway, it was nice to get away and chill for a night. Nothing else mattered for a evening except I was having a great time with my son. Rock on fellow Mohos. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-5509013288025955200?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/5509013288025955200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=5509013288025955200' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5509013288025955200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5509013288025955200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2008/11/family-home-evening-maybe.html' title='Family Home Evening Maybe'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sdnPwHu_kac/SRMLQj-rDAI/AAAAAAAAACg/DC0S1QPKL_8/s72-c/metallica.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-9066344107014330691</id><published>2008-10-22T21:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T10:32:46.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hindsight</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Zinj has asked me the following question. "In hindsight what advice do you give to us closeted SSA kids that want to stay in the church and have a family in our future? Its sounding scary."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I am not sure I have much advice for those of you contemplating marriage. All I can do is tell you more about my marriage and maybe it will help you decide what is right for you. A couple of things helped me to marry. I always wanted to be a father and have children of my own. But I really didn't have a plan until I met my future wife. She really was the main reason for my decision. It was always just bouncing around in my head. I knew I was gay, but I would work on changing my ssa and things would be just peachy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;My wife is the first women who I like to touch me, her kiss, her embrace, her hand on my body felt good for the first time. She made me feel like I could possibly be heterosexual. We dated for two years before we were married. We lived far apart and were together only during school. Anyway, we got married and things started to roll. I was so busy being married it was easy to put my "dark side" on the back burner. It was OK because soon it would be gone. Besides, I had more important things to do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The children started coming. There is nothing like the birth of a child. I really can't describe the feeling. It is just awesome. I love every moment of being a father. Every child is so different, unique and has it's own operating manual. What works on one doesn't work on the other one. But hey, I had family now. Things are looking good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;All this time my "dark side" is still there lurking around. My wife has always told me she feels more like a sister to me than my wife. This was before I came out to her. And now that she knows, it's a full time job to make her feel like a wife. I am doing better in that department. But at the same time the intimacy part is getting harder for me too. I would say that is number one on my "hard to do list". And, she has told me that if she knew about me before getting married she would have said no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I often think about when all the kids are gone. I believe that will be my ultimate test yet. I feel that they are the glue holding the family together now. Even though I do plan things just with my wife, the kids rule the family schedule. But that is not such a bad thing either. I love nothing more than watching my kids grow up and experience life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;So all I can really say is I am still busy pushing the right buttons to make my marriage work. But I must say it sure is worth it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-9066344107014330691?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/9066344107014330691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=9066344107014330691' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/9066344107014330691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/9066344107014330691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2008/10/hindsight.html' title='Hindsight'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-8192647016737097048</id><published>2008-10-15T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T23:19:54.737-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Attraction</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Am I the only one who suffers the wrath of his wife at "that time of the month" for being homosexual? It happened the other day again. She goes on how important it is for me to desire her sexually and to make love to her and make her feel like a women etc. etc. And how &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;she doesn't get enough of this from me. I like to think I am doing a pretty good job considering the situation. When she is done, I am lost for words. We have been over this so many times. What in the heck does she want me to say? I can only be truthful with her. Usually, in about a week it is over. But that only gives me three weeks until the next time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-8192647016737097048?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/8192647016737097048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=8192647016737097048' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/8192647016737097048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/8192647016737097048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2008/10/attraction.html' title='Attraction'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-185966050050151671</id><published>2008-10-06T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T21:51:03.714-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not an Option</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am sitting here shedding genuine tears tonight. I have been for most of the day. I am sad because some one dear to me has taken her own life. She was my friend, some who I loved dearly. I don't know why she made the decision. Did she feel that her family did not love her. Was she unable to get over never knowing her mother who past away when she was only young? Was this the only way out of a marriage that has been difficult? Could I have helped in some way? Did she give me a help message that I left unanswered. I have so many questions that will never be answered. They will never be answered now. I have had a few days in my life where I thought I would be better off dead. It comes with the territory in which I live. But being dead is not an option. I love the Moho brotherhood. Thanks for being here and making me feel like I belong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-185966050050151671?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/185966050050151671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=185966050050151671' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/185966050050151671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/185966050050151671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2008/10/not-option.html' title='Not an Option'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-2152282777549542535</id><published>2008-10-04T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T15:03:50.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gay Forever?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;What if I am gay forever?  I told that to my wife the other day. She looked at me like what are you saying.  I told her it was like for her to believe in the next life she would be gay. She could never imagine such a thing. So why could I imagine such a change. I don't feel inferior or less human here on earth because of being gay. I can't imagine being anything else than I am now. And if I were to change, what would that mean? What would the effects on me be. Would I finally feel free or would I feel sorrow from losing this part of me?  I would not be me anymore. I would be this new version of me I didn't know. If I had a way of changing my gayness tomorrow, would I do it, no. I can't, I would not be me. Just some wild thoughts from me today guys. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-2152282777549542535?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/2152282777549542535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=2152282777549542535' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2152282777549542535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/2152282777549542535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2008/10/gay-forever.html' title='Gay Forever?'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-6872328862160564115</id><published>2008-10-02T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T11:50:04.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bror the bromancer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am taking my daughter to get a energy drink before work. She was in the store and I was in the the car looking at the handsome guy in the vehicle next to me. He looked great there with his buddies going over some papers. Suddenly, I was reminded of how much I was attracted his maleness. I was reminded of Beck's bromance word. The thought came to my mind, would this guy be a good bromance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I am not sure if my bromances are the same as Beck's but I am sure they are similiar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;A few years back, I just wanted a friend like me. I finally found a guy online and I sent him a message and he sent one back. As it turns out, we had a lot in common. He had been married but he was now divorced, and he had kids. We started chatting and got to know each other well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I liked the fact that he was in Europe, I could bare my soul and I would never see him in person. Well, I was wrong, I ended up buying a ticket and flying to meet him. Yes, against my wifes wishes. I kept none of this secret from her. I wanted her to come along but she would not. I went for 15 days and had the time of my life. I had never been on a trip on my own since being married. I had no clue what was going to happen until it happened. It was great being there with him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I was a good boy and nothing happened that would end my marriage or my membership in the church. He respected the fact that I was married and he was happy to have me come visit. The only thing I feel guilty about was I had such a good time. It was good for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-6872328862160564115?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/6872328862160564115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=6872328862160564115' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6872328862160564115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6872328862160564115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2008/10/bror-bromancer.html' title='Bror the bromancer'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-6871542600446118890</id><published>2008-09-27T19:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T06:28:39.895-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Being new to the blogging scene, I thought in this post I should tell a little about myself. I have lived in Utah for all my life. I have been gay and mormon my whole life. It was never a question of if I was gay, but when my gay gene was going to be removed from my DNA because of me being a good mormon boy :). After a few heart wrenching trails in my life, I have finely accepted that change is not an option. I am me, and I like me. I am married and just came out to my wife 2 years ago. I told her only after one of my gay friends said it was wrong for me to keep her in the dark. I knew he was right and found the courage to tell her. I thought she would leave me but she took it better than I thought. She even told me a few things about herself that curled my hair (ha ha). I told her, please don't tell me anymore. She struggles with the attraction part, but so far she is still here. I have five kids and I am not out to them. My wife's wish. I would tell them if it were up to me. I just hate living a lie. I like what I have been reading in the blogs here. I could have written many of them myself. It is great to know that I am not alone in this predicament. Anyway, I am glad to be here and look forward to getting to know everyone. And Beck, I am so guilty of some serious bromancing. But my bromances are my age. :) We will have to talk about them. And Abelard, thanks for your help in getting me here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-6871542600446118890?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/6871542600446118890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=6871542600446118890' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6871542600446118890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/6871542600446118890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2008/09/me.html' title='Me'/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3906349731854878166.post-5947944589715708343</id><published>2008-09-25T00:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T00:21:31.300-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My first post.'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hey it's great to be here. I will write more soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3906349731854878166-5947944589715708343?l=storbror.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/feeds/5947944589715708343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3906349731854878166&amp;postID=5947944589715708343' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5947944589715708343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3906349731854878166/posts/default/5947944589715708343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://storbror.blogspot.com/2008/09/hey-its-great-to-be-here.html' title=''/><author><name>Bror</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17843077698642948401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HKyLT-NNj-Y/TZYxrfDTX0I/AAAAAAAAAGM/BykMn3xTMgk/s220/HPIM4281.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
