The Regulation Journal

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I love to write and keep myself very busy doing it. I really love to surround myself with emotionally, financially, and mentally mature older people who are very experienced and can guide me. I love big brother figure and energy. I’ve had way too many big/elder brother and/ or father figures in my life….. more than I can think and count and honestly…. I love that!

  • The Men I Want to Write: Beyond Labels, Toward Belonging

    When I think about the kinds of men I want to write about, I don’t think only about labels. I think about the lives they might lead, the people they might become, the friendships they might build, and the things they might struggle to say out loud.

    My interest in pan-flexible men comes from a creative desire to explore possibilities. What would it look like to create male characters who could be confident without being arrogant, protective without being controlling, affectionate without feeling embarrassed, and uncertain without believing that uncertainty makes them weak?

    Those are the kinds of questions I want to explore through my writing.

    Men Who Are More Than One Thing

    I don’t want every male character in my stories to feel as though he came from the same blueprint. One man might be outgoing and comfortable discussing his identity. Another might be private, thoughtful, and still trying to understand himself. A third might have a strong sense of who he is but struggle to communicate his feelings to the people he cares about.

    Some characters might identify as pansexual, panromantic, or pan-flexible. Others might be questioning. Some might be straight characters whom readers interpret as pan-coded because of their personalities, relationships, or the way the story presents them.

    These characters don’t all need to reach the same conclusion.

    I want readers to encounter different possibilities rather than one supposedly perfect example of what a pan-flexible man should be.

    After all, a person’s identity is only one part of his life. His humor, fears, ambitions, mistakes, loyalties, relationships, and personal history matter, too.

    The Kind of Masculinity That Interests Me

    One of the themes I want to explore is a masculinity that makes room for tenderness.

    I am interested in men who can be strong while admitting that something hurts. Men who can protect someone without deciding everything for them. Men who can express affection without treating it as an embarrassment. Men who can apologize, ask for help, and recognize when they have made a mistake.

    I don’t believe every man has to express masculinity in the same way. Some men are naturally expressive, while others show their care through quiet gestures and consistent actions. Neither approach automatically makes someone more authentic than the other.

    What interests me is the freedom for men to be themselves without constantly worrying about whether their behavior meets somebody else’s expectations.

    And I don’t want tenderness to become another requirement. A man can be gentle, reserved, energetic, serious, playful, or a combination of many qualities. His personality doesn’t prove his orientation, and his orientation doesn’t dictate his personality.

    That distinction matters to me as a writer.

    Friendship, Brotherhood, and Belonging

    Romantic relationships aren’t the only relationships worth exploring.

    I want to write about male friendships that develop through trust, shared experiences, humor, and mutual understanding. I want to explore brotherhood between men who aren’t related by blood, including friendships in which one person becomes a mentor, a dependable older-brother figure, or simply someone who makes another person feel less alone.

    Sometimes, the most meaningful thing one man can say to another is, “I’m here if you need me.”

    That sentence doesn’t have to carry a romantic or sexual meaning. It can represent friendship, loyalty, compassion, and the decision to show up when someone needs support.

    I want to give those connections room to grow naturally in my stories. Two men can care deeply about each other without the narrative needing to turn their relationship into a romance. At the same time, other characters might discover romantic feelings that they didn’t expect. Both possibilities deserve thoughtful storytelling.

    The important thing is allowing each relationship to become what it is rather than forcing every connection into the same category.

    Characters Who Are Still Becoming Themselves

    I also want to make room for characters who don’t have all the answers.

    Someone might begin a story with a label that feels right and later discover that another description fits better. Someone else might prefer not to use a label at all. Another character might understand his feelings but struggle with how to communicate them to his friends or family.

    These experiences don’t need to be treated as failures or dramatic revelations every time. Sometimes understanding yourself is gradual. Sometimes a person simply learns more about what he wants, what he values, and what kind of relationships make him feel comfortable.

    I want to approach those experiences with curiosity rather than judgment.

    Readers should be able to see a character questioning something without assuming that he is confused about everything. They should also be able to interpret a character differently from the way I intended, provided we remember that interpretation isn’t the same as establishing someone’s identity.

    That balance between authorial intention and reader interpretation is part of what makes writing interesting to me.

    Why This Matters to My Five-Novel Vision

    As I continue developing my ideas for The Pan-curious Journey, I want to build a world that can accommodate many kinds of men and many kinds of relationships.

    Across five novels, I can explore different personalities, backgrounds, friendships, romantic possibilities, and approaches to identity without expecting one character to represent everybody.

    One story might focus on a man learning to express himself. Another might explore a friendship that becomes an important source of stability. A different story could follow someone navigating attraction and uncertainty, while another examines how assumptions about masculinity affect the way men treat one another.

    These stories can connect through shared themes without repeating the same character arc.

    I want the characters to have their own voices, their own contradictions, and their own reasons for making the choices they make. I want them to be capable of getting things wrong and learning from those experiences. Most importantly, I want them to feel like people rather than examples in an argument.

    The Stories I Hope to Create

    Ultimately, I want to write stories that leave room for possibility.

    Possibility for men who are comfortable with their identities and men who are still exploring them. Possibility for masculinity that includes emotional openness without demanding it from everyone. Possibility for friendships that offer genuine belonging, romantic relationships that develop at their own pace, and characters who don’t fit neatly into other people’s expectations.

    I don’t need every reader to interpret every character exactly as I do. I hope readers will find something meaningful in the stories, whether that means recognizing themselves, understanding someone else’s perspective, or simply discovering a character they want to know better.

    For me, writing about pan-flexible men is not about proving that all men are alike. It’s about making space for their differences.

    And perhaps that’s the heart of The Pan-curious Journey: not telling readers who these men must be, but inviting them to discover who each man becomes.

  • Panromantic Pride Lifetime Membership Card, LGBTQ Identity Wallet Card

    Look what I found on Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/in-en/listing/869435846/panromantic-lifetime-membership-card-gay?ref=share_v4_lx

  • The Difference Between Self-Awareness and Constantly Questioning Yourself

    I think there is an important difference between being self-aware and constantly questioning yourself.

    At first, they can look almost identical.

    A self-aware person might ask themselves, “Did I handle that situation the right way?” They might think about what they said, consider how another person experienced the interaction, and recognize that they could have done something differently.

    That can be healthy.

    But there is another version of questioning yourself that doesn’t feel healthy at all.

    It sounds more like:

    “Was I wrong?”

    “Am I overreacting?”

    “Did I misunderstand what happened?”

    “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

    “Maybe I’m making this bigger than it really is.”

    “Maybe everyone else understands something that I don’t.

    ”When those questions happen often enough, self-reflection can start turning into self-doubt.

    Being willing to be wrong is not the same as assuming you are wrong

    I don’t think self-awareness means believing that every feeling, interpretation, or reaction you have is automatically correct.

    People can misunderstand situations. We can remember details incorrectly. We can react emotionally. We can make mistakes. We can hurt someone’s feelings without intending to. Other people can also have perspectives that we haven’t considered.

    Being self-aware means leaving room for those possibilities.

    But leaving room for the possibility that you could be wrong is different from automatically assuming that you are wrong.

    That distinction matters.

    If someone tells me that I misunderstood something, I can listen to them without immediately deciding that my entire experience was invalid.

    I can say:

    “Okay, help me understand.”

    I can look at the evidence.

    I can reconsider what I thought happened.

    And I can still say, “I understand what you’re saying, but this is how the situation looked and felt from my perspective.”

    Those things can coexist.

    Sometimes people learn to distrust their own reactions

    When someone has repeatedly been told that they are too sensitive, too emotional, too difficult, too dramatic, or simply misunderstanding things, they may eventually start questioning themselves before anyone else even gets the opportunity to.

    That can become exhausting.

    Instead of asking, “What happened?”

    the first question becomes,

    “Am I allowed to be upset about what happened?”

    Instead of asking, “Why did this affect me?”

    the question becomes,

    “Why am I reacting like this?”

    And instead of figuring out what they actually need, they may spend all their energy trying to determine whether they are even justified in needing anything.

    That is a very different kind of mental effort.

    It doesn’t necessarily mean the person is incapable of self-reflection.

    Sometimes it means they have become extremely accustomed to defending the legitimacy of their own experiences.

    I don’t want to confuse validation with certainty

    There is something else I have been thinking about.

    Being validated doesn’t necessarily mean having someone tell you, “You’re completely right and the other person is completely wrong.”

    That isn’t always helpful either.

    Sometimes what a person needs is much simpler:

    “I can understand why that bothered you.”

    “I can see why you interpreted it that way.”

    “Let’s look at what happened.”

    “You don’t have to figure this out by yourself.”

    Those statements don’t automatically assign blame.

    They simply create enough room for a person to examine the situation without feeling like they are on trial.

    I think that’s important because people sometimes act as though there are only two choices:

    Either you completely agree with someone’s interpretation, or you dismiss their feelings.

    There is a middle ground.

    You can take someone’s experience seriously while still examining the facts.

    You can acknowledge someone’s feelings without declaring that every conclusion they reached must be correct.

    And you can disagree with someone’s interpretation without making them feel ridiculous for having it.

    Self-awareness should help you understand yourself, not erase yourself

    I want self-awareness to make me more honest with myself.

    If I make a mistake, I want to be able to admit it.

    If I misunderstand someone, I want to be able to correct myself.

    If I hurt somebody, I want to be able to take responsibility.

    But I don’t want self-awareness to become another way of abandoning myself.

    I don’t want every uncomfortable interaction to automatically become evidence that I did something wrong.

    I don’t want every disagreement to make me question whether I am allowed to have a perspective.

    And I don’t want listening to other people to require silencing myself.

    There is a difference between saying, “I might need to reconsider this,” and saying, “My perspective doesn’t matter.”

    There is a difference between accountability and self-punishment.

    There is a difference between humility and self-erasure.

    Those differences can be easy to miss when you have spent a long time questioning yourself.

    Sometimes the healthiest question is simply: What do I actually know?

    When I find myself becoming overwhelmed by uncertainty, I think it can help to separate what I know from what I am assuming.

    What actually happened?

    What was said?

    What did I observe?

    What am I interpreting?

    What don’t I know yet?

    What information might I still need?

    That doesn’t solve everything immediately.

    But it can slow down the rush toward either extreme.

    I don’t have to conclude that I am completely right.

    I also don’t have to conclude that I am completely wrong.

    I can stay curious.

    I can gather information.

    I can listen.I can reconsider.

    And I can still trust myself enough to say, “This experience mattered to me.”

    I want to be able to learn without constantly doubting myself

    For me, that’s the goal.

    Not becoming someone who never questions himself.

    Not becoming someone who assumes everyone else is wrong.

    Not becoming someone who refuses criticism.

    I want something more balanced than that.

    I want to be able to hear another person’s perspective without immediately throwing away my own.

    I want to be able to recognize mistakes without turning those mistakes into a judgment about my entire character.

    I want to be able to say, “I don’t know,” without feeling ashamed.

    I want to be able to change my mind when new information becomes available.

    And I want to be able to trust that changing my mind does not mean I was foolish for having my original perspective.

    Maybe that’s part of real self-awareness.

    It isn’t about always knowing exactly what happened.

    It isn’t about always being right.

    It isn’t even about always understanding yourself perfectly.

    Maybe it is about being willing to look honestly at yourself while still remembering that you are a person—not a problem that constantly needs to be corrected.

    I can examine myself without attacking myself.

    I can listen to other people without disappearing inside their opinions.

    I can admit when I am wrong without deciding that I am worthless.

    And I can question myself without automatically questioning whether I deserve to trust myself at all.

  • What Happens When A Person Has Been Overwhelmed For Too Much

    Sometimes I think we underestimate what prolonged overwhelm can do to a person.

    We tend to think of overwhelm as something temporary.

    You have a stressful day.

    You have too many things to do.

    You get through it.

    You sleep.

    You recover.

    Then life goes back to normal.

    But what happens when life doesn’t go back to normal?

    What happens when one stressful situation is followed by another, and another, and another?

    Eventually, the problem isn’t just the individual events.

    It’s the accumulation.

    A difficult situation at work.

    A complicated administrative problem.

    A stressful family interaction.

    A frightening dream.

    An uncomfortable medical appointment.

    A transportation problem.

    A financial concern.

    A change in routine.

    A misunderstanding.

    None of these things necessarily has to be catastrophic by itself.

    But when they keep arriving before you’ve had a chance to recover from the previous one, your ability to cope can begin to change.

    You may become more irritable.

    You may have trouble concentrating.

    You may feel mentally exhausted.

    You may become unusually emotional.

    You may have difficulty making decisions.

    You may find yourself thinking about problems long after the immediate situation has ended.

    You may feel like even one more small problem could push you over the edge.

    And then something interesting happens.

    Other people may only see the final reaction.

    They see the person getting frustrated over something that appears small.

    They don’t necessarily see everything that came before it.

    That’s one reason I think context matters so much.

    A person’s reaction to one event cannot always be understood by looking at that event in isolation.

    Imagine carrying ten heavy boxes.

    Someone hands you an eleventh box and asks why you’re struggling.

    The eleventh box might not be unusually heavy.

    The problem is that you’re already carrying ten.

    That’s what accumulated stress can feel like.

    The nervous system doesn’t necessarily experience every stressful event as an isolated item on a checklist.

    The body and mind can remain affected by what happened earlier.

    That doesn’t mean every reaction is automatically appropriate.

    People still have responsibility for what they do.

    Being overwhelmed doesn’t give someone permission to hurt others.

    But responsibility and understanding can coexist.

    We can hold someone accountable while also asking:

    What else were they carrying?

    That question has become increasingly important to me.

    I’ve realized that sometimes I judge myself based on what I think I should be able to handle without considering how much I’ve already been handling.

    I might look at one situation and think:

    “Why is this bothering me so much?”

    But perhaps the better question is:

    “How much have I already been dealing with?”

    That doesn’t excuse everything.

    It provides context.

    There’s another part of prolonged overwhelm that doesn’t receive enough attention: uncertainty.

    Stress isn’t always caused by something bad happening.

    Sometimes it’s caused by not knowing what’s going to happen.

    Waiting for an answer can be exhausting.

    Waiting for an application decision can be exhausting.

    Waiting for medical information can be exhausting.

    Waiting to find out whether a problem at work will be resolved can be exhausting.

    Waiting for someone to respond can be exhausting.

    Uncertainty leaves the brain without a clear ending.

    There’s nothing definitive to process.

    The situation remains open.

    And when several uncertain situations happen at the same time, it can become difficult to relax even when nothing is actively happening at that exact moment.

    You’re still waiting.

    Still wondering.

    Still checking.

    Still thinking:

    “What if?”

    “What happens next?”

    “Did I do something wrong?”

    “Did they misunderstand me?”

    “Is this going to work out?”

    That’s mentally expensive.

    It can also make ordinary problems feel much larger because your internal resources are already being used elsewhere.

    I’ve learned that sometimes the most useful thing isn’t telling myself to “calm down.”

    It’s figuring out what is actually unresolved.

    What information am I missing?

    What can I control?

    What can I document?

    What can wait?

    What needs immediate attention?

    What belongs to someone else’s responsibility?

    Those questions can turn a giant cloud of anxiety into separate problems.

    And separate problems are often easier to handle.

    Another thing I’ve noticed is that prolonged overwhelm can affect how we interpret interactions.

    When you’re already exhausted, a short response can feel harsher.

    A delayed message can feel more threatening.

    An ambiguous comment can create more uncertainty.

    A minor inconvenience can feel like evidence that everything is falling apart.

    That doesn’t mean the person is imagining everything.

    It means the brain is operating under strain.

    This is one reason I think self-awareness matters.

    Instead of immediately deciding:

    “Everything is terrible.”

    I can sometimes ask:

    “Am I reacting only to this situation, or am I reacting to everything I’ve been carrying?”

    That question doesn’t invalidate the feeling.

    It gives me additional information.

    Maybe the current problem really is serious.

    Maybe it’s manageable but feels enormous because I’m exhausted.

    Maybe I need a break before deciding what I think.

    Maybe I need to talk to someone.

    Maybe I need to write.

    Maybe I need to sleep.

    Maybe I need to solve one small problem instead of attempting to solve my entire life in one afternoon.

    These aren’t signs of failure.

    They’re ways of recognizing limits.

    I think there’s an important difference between having limits and being limited as a person.

    Everyone has limits.

    Even highly capable people have them.

    Even people who appear calm and organized have them.

    Even people who seem to handle everything effortlessly have them.

    The difference is that some people reach their limits less visibly than others.

    We shouldn’t assume that someone who is struggling has always been struggling.

    We also shouldn’t assume that someone who normally functions well will never become overwhelmed.

    Life changes.

    Circumstances change.

    People’s available resources change.

    Support systems change.

    Health changes.

    Responsibilities change.

    Sometimes the person who handled everything six months ago genuinely cannot handle the same amount today.

    That doesn’t automatically mean they’ve become lazy or irresponsible.

    It may mean their circumstances have changed.

    For me, one of the most important lessons has been learning to recognize that before I reach complete exhaustion.

    I don’t always succeed.

    Sometimes I realize it too late.

    Sometimes I keep pushing because I think I should be able to handle one more thing.

    Sometimes I convince myself that asking for help means I’m failing.

    But I’m beginning to understand that prevention is also a form of strength.

    Resting before I’m completely depleted is strength.

    Asking a question before a misunderstanding becomes a crisis is strength.

    Writing down important information before I forget it is strength.

    Telling someone that I’m overwhelmed before I reach my breaking point is strength.

    Taking a problem one step at a time is strength.

    None of those things require me to pretend that I’m invulnerable.

    Perhaps that’s the bigger lesson.

    We don’t have to wait until someone completely falls apart before we take their stress seriously.

    Sometimes the warning signs appear much earlier.

    The difficulty concentrating.

    The irritability.

    The exhaustion.

    The constant worrying.

    The inability to relax.

    The feeling that everything is urgent.

    The desire to withdraw.

    The sense that one more problem is too much.

    Those signs deserve attention.

    Not judgment.

    Not shame.

    Attention.

    Because sometimes the question isn’t:

    “Why can’t this person handle this?”

    Sometimes the better question is:

    “How much has this person been handling already?”

    That question doesn’t remove responsibility.

    It adds context.

    And context can change the way we understand ourselves and the people around us.

    I’m still learning how to recognize my own limits.

    I’m still learning how to separate today’s problem from everything that happened before today.

    I’m still learning that I don’t have to solve every problem immediately.

    And I’m still learning that being overwhelmed doesn’t mean I’m incapable.

    Sometimes it simply means I’ve been carrying too much for too long.

    And when that happens, the answer isn’t always to carry it better.

    Sometimes the answer is to put something down.

  • https://preview.redd.it/zc304n2jfrkh1.jpeg?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&width=640&auto=webp&s=e1f8cc932a12834fc533d3c61802b9b247e4def5

  • The Emotional Lives of Pan-Flexible Men: Love, Friendship, and the Freedom to Be Human

    When I think about writing pan-flexible men, I don’t only think about attraction.

    I think about everything that happens around attraction.

    I think about friendship. Brotherhood. Romance. Family. Vulnerability. Trust. Admiration. Loneliness. Affection. The desire to be understood. The desire to be close to someone without necessarily knowing exactly what that closeness is supposed to look like.

    That is one of the reasons I find pan-flexible male characters so interesting.

    There is so much room to explore.

    A pan-flexible man can have a complicated emotional life without his entire story revolving around his sexuality. He can fall in love, develop a crush, admire someone deeply, form an intense friendship, find a brother figure, become a father, build a career, experience heartbreak, and still be figuring himself out.

    The label doesn’t tell us everything.

    The person does.

    Attraction Isn’t the Whole Story

    Sometimes conversations about sexuality become so focused on who someone is attracted to that we forget to ask another important question:

    How does this person experience relationships?

    Two people can use similar labels while having completely different emotional lives.

    One pan-flexible man might be highly romantic and dream about having a lifelong partner.

    Another might be more cautious about romance but deeply value friendship and companionship.

    One might develop romantic feelings easily.

    Another might need a great deal of emotional trust before romantic feelings become clear.

    Someone else might experience sexual attraction differently from romantic attraction.

    And another man might still be questioning everything.

    None of these possibilities makes one person more or less legitimate.

    People are complicated.

    That’s what makes them interesting to write.

    Brotherhood Can Be Part of the Story

    One of the relationships I especially want to explore in my fiction is brotherhood.

    Not necessarily biological brotherhood.

    Sometimes a person can become important to us because of the way they treat us.

    An older friend can become a mentor.

    A coworker can become someone we trust.

    A provider, teacher, coach, or neighbor can become an important source of guidance.

    A close friend can eventually feel like family.

    For some men, having another man they can talk to honestly can be incredibly meaningful.

    And I want to write about that without automatically turning every emotionally close relationship between men into a romantic or sexual relationship.

    Men can love one another as friends.

    Men can admire one another.

    Men can protect one another.

    Men can encourage one another.

    Men can call each other brothers.

    And none of that needs to erase masculinity.

    The Man Who Doesn’t Have Everything Figured Out

    I also want to make room for the questioning man.

    Maybe he thinks he might be pansexual.

    Maybe he thinks he might be panromantic.

    Maybe he is almost certain but still doesn’t feel ready to choose a permanent label.

    Maybe “pan-flexible” feels more comfortable because it gives him room to describe his experience without pretending that he understands every part of himself.

    Maybe he changes how he describes himself over time.

    That’s okay.

    A character doesn’t need to begin a novel with a perfectly organized identity.

    In fact, sometimes the uncertainty is the story.

    The important thing is not to treat questioning as something that makes a person incomplete.

    A person can be whole while still learning about himself.

    What About the Pan-Coded Man?

    There is another character I want to leave room for: the man who is perceived as pan-coded.

    He might have a personality that readers interpret as open, fluid, affectionate, emotionally expressive, or unconcerned with traditional expectations about masculinity.

    Readers might see “pan energy” in him.

    But interpretation isn’t the same thing as identity.

    A fictional character can be written so that readers wonder about his sexuality without the author ever explicitly confirming it.

    And a straight character can have qualities that some readers interpret as pan-coded.

    That’s part of the freedom of fiction.

    Readers bring their own interpretations to characters.

    The important distinction is remembering that coding is not proof of someone’s orientation.

    Gentle Masculinity Has a Place Here

    I don’t want every male character I write to fit the stereotype of the emotionally distant man who never cries, never needs anyone, and solves every problem by himself.

    There is room for another kind of masculinity.

    A man can be strong and gentle.

    He can be protective without being controlling.

    He can be confident without dominating everyone around him.

    He can be masculine and affectionate.

    He can enjoy physical affection from people he trusts.

    He can admit that he is scared.

    He can ask for help.

    He can tell another man, “I love you,” without that statement automatically needing to become romantic or sexual.

    He can be vulnerable without believing that vulnerability makes him weak.

    And he can still be himself.

    That’s the kind of emotional freedom I want to explore.

    Five Men, Five Stories

    This is becoming especially important to me because I don’t want to write only one pan-flexible male character.

    I want to write several.

    Perhaps five.

    Five men who don’t have identical personalities.

    Five men with different backgrounds.

    Five men with different careers.

    Five men with different approaches to relationships.

    Five men who understand their identities differently.

    One might be openly pan-flexible.

    Another might describe himself as panromantic.

    Another might be pansexual.

    Another might be questioning.

    Another might never use a particular label at all while still having experiences that make readers wonder about his attraction.

    Some might be gentle.

    Some might be reserved.

    Some might be outgoing.

    Some might be funny.

    Some might be serious.

    Some might have children.

    Some might be brothers.

    Some might be mentors.

    Some might be athletes, mechanics, chefs, musicians, teachers, models, construction workers, maintenance workers, or something completely different.

    Their lives don’t have to revolve around sexuality.

    Their sexuality can simply be one thread woven into much larger stories.

    I Want My Characters to Feel Like People

    That’s probably the simplest way I can explain what I’m trying to accomplish.

    I don’t want to create characters who feel like walking definitions.

    I want readers to meet a man.

    Then learn his name.

    Learn what makes him laugh.

    Learn what makes him nervous.

    Learn who he trusts.

    Learn what kind of music he likes.

    Learn what he wants from life.

    Learn what relationships mean to him.

    Learn how he handles affection.

    Learn what masculinity means to him.

    And eventually, perhaps, learn something about his sexuality.

    The label can be part of the character.

    But it shouldn’t have to be the entire character.

    There Is Freedom in Not Having All the Answers

    Maybe that’s ultimately what draws me toward pan-flexible characters.

    There is room for nuance.

    There is room for uncertainty.

    There is room for someone to say:

    “This is how I understand myself right now.”

    And that’s enough.

    People don’t always understand themselves all at once.

    Sometimes identity becomes clearer through relationships, experiences, reflection, and simply growing older.

    Fiction can make room for that process.

    It can allow a character to ask questions without immediately forcing an answer.

    And it can remind readers that there is nothing wrong with being complicated.

    The Stories I Want to Tell

    As I continue developing The Pan-curious Journey, I want to explore men who live beyond simple categories.

    Men who love.

    Men who wonder.

    Men who question.

    Men who admire.

    Men who form friendships that become family.

    Men who experience attraction in different ways.

    Men who are comfortable with themselves.

    Men who are still learning.

    Men who are perceived one way by other people but understand themselves differently.

    And men who simply want permission to be human.

    That’s the kind of pan-flexible representation I want to create.

    Not a perfect definition.

    Not a stereotype.

    Not a checklist.

    A person.

    Because behind every label, every interpretation, every question, and every possibility is a human being trying to understand himself and find a place where he belongs.

    And perhaps that’s where The Pan-curious Journey really begins.

    Not with a label.

    With a life.

  • The Man Behind the Label: Imagining the Lives of Pan-Flexible Men

    The more I return to the subject of pan-flexibility, the more I find myself asking a different question.

    Instead of asking, “What is a pan-flexible man?”

    I find myself asking:

    “Who is he?”

    That small change in the question makes a surprisingly big difference.

    A label can give us language. It can help someone describe an experience that might otherwise be difficult to explain. But a label doesn’t tell us everything about the person using it.

    And when I think about pan-flexible men—both real people and the fictional characters I want to create—I don’t want to stop at the label.

    I want to imagine the life behind it.

    He Is More Than His Attraction

    Imagine a man who identifies as pan-flexible.

    What do we actually know about him from that information alone?

    Not very much.

    We don’t know his age.

    We don’t know his personality.

    We don’t know whether he’s outgoing or shy.

    We don’t know what he does for a living.

    We don’t know whether he wants children.

    We don’t know whether he’s close to his family.

    We don’t know what makes him laugh.

    We don’t know what makes him nervous.

    We don’t know what his favorite song is.

    We don’t know whether he loves cooking, cars, gardening, sports, books, movies, music, video games, traveling, or staying home.

    Most importantly, we don’t know what kind of person he is.

    His orientation is one part of his identity.

    It isn’t his entire identity.

    The Possibilities Are Endless

    This is where writing becomes exciting for me.

    I can imagine a pan-flexible man who is a mechanic, covered in tattoos, and happiest when he’s working on an old car.

    I can imagine another who is a chef and expresses affection by preparing elaborate meals for the people he loves.

    I can imagine a carpenter who takes enormous pride in building something beautiful with his own hands.

    I can imagine a maintenance worker who seems serious at first but has an unexpectedly playful personality.

    I can imagine a landscaper who loves being outdoors.

    I can imagine a professional athlete.

    A model.

    An actor.

    A musician.

    A teacher.

    A businessman.

    A father.

    A brother.

    A best friend.

    Or simply a man living an ordinary life.

    None of these possibilities is more or less “pan-flexible” because of the occupation.

    They’re simply different people.

    Masculinity Can Be Complicated Too

    Another reason I enjoy imagining these characters is that they allow me to explore masculinity without treating masculinity as one fixed personality type.

    A pan-flexible man can be rugged.

    He can be gentle.

    He can be both.

    He can have tattoos, muscles, facial hair, and a traditionally masculine career while also being emotionally expressive.

    He can enjoy working with his hands and still be comfortable telling his closest friend that he loves him.

    He can be protective without being controlling.

    He can be confident without needing to dominate.

    He can be vulnerable without believing vulnerability makes him weak.

    I find that combination particularly compelling.

    The Gentle Man

    There is something about gentle masculinity that I keep returning to in my writing.

    I like men who can be strong without being harsh.

    Men who can be confident without making other people feel small.

    Men who can listen.

    Men who can apologize.

    Men who can show affection.

    Men who can admit when they are frightened.

    Men who can take care of other people while also accepting care themselves.

    None of those characteristics tells us someone’s sexual orientation.

    But they tell us something about the character.

    And that’s what makes them useful to me as a writer.

    Pan-Flexible Doesn’t Have to Mean Predictable

    Because pan-flexibility isn’t a universally standardized term, I don’t want my fictional characters to treat it as though there is one official personality attached to it.

    There isn’t.

    One person who uses the term may describe their attraction very differently from another.

    One may experience broad romantic attraction.

    Another may experience broad sexual attraction.

    Another may notice particular preferences while still feeling that gender isn’t a strict limitation.

    Another may use the term while continuing to explore what it means.

    That variety gives fiction room to breathe.

    The Questioning Man Belongs Here Too

    I also want to make room for the man who isn’t completely sure.

    Maybe he thinks he could be panromantic.

    Maybe he thinks he could be pansexual.

    Maybe he’s almost certain.

    Maybe he discovers the word pan-flexible and thinks:

    “That sounds surprisingly close to what I’ve been experiencing.”

    He doesn’t have to announce a final answer immediately.

    He can take his time.

    He can learn about different identities.

    He can reflect on his experiences.

    He can talk to people he trusts.

    He can change the language he uses.

    Or he can decide that no particular label feels necessary.

    That uncertainty can be part of his story rather than something the story needs to “fix.”

    And Then There Are Pan-Coded Characters

    Fiction gives us another fascinating possibility.

    A character can be pan-flexible-coded without explicitly being identified as pan-flexible.

    Maybe readers notice that he doesn’t conform to traditional expectations.

    Maybe his emotional openness stands out.

    Maybe he has close friendships with people of many genders.

    Maybe he talks about attraction in an unusually open way.

    Readers may see pan-flexibility in him.

    But another reader may see something entirely different.

    That’s part of the beauty of interpretation.

    The important distinction is that coding isn’t confirmation.

    A character can remind us of an identity without officially having that identity.

    And that distinction becomes even more important when we’re talking about real people.

    Real Men Deserve That Same Respect

    When I write about fictional characters, I have the freedom to establish whatever identity fits the story.

    Real people are different.

    If a man says he’s straight, that’s what he says he is.

    If he says he’s pansexual, that’s what he says he is.

    If he says he’s panromantic, questioning, bisexual, pan-flexible, or doesn’t want a label at all, that’s his decision.

    Someone else’s interpretation shouldn’t override that.

    A man can give someone “pan energy” and still be straight.

    He can be incredibly gentle.

    He can be affectionate with his male friends.

    He can support LGBTQ+ people.

    He can challenge traditional masculinity.

    None of those qualities gives outsiders permission to determine his orientation.

    Why This Matters to My Fiction

    Being careful about those distinctions actually gives me more creative freedom, not less.

    I can create a character whose identity is explicitly established.

    I can create a character who is questioning.

    I can create a character whose sexuality is intentionally ambiguous.

    I can create a character who is pan-coded.

    I can even create a straight character who gets interpreted as pan-coded by the people around him.

    Each scenario can tell a different story.

    And I think those differences are worth exploring.

    The Stories I Want to Tell

    This is one reason I keep thinking about making pan-flexible men central to The Pan-curious Journey.

    I don’t want to write one definitive story about pan-flexibility.

    I want to write several.

    Five books could mean five men.

    Five lives.

    Five personalities.

    Five different relationships with attraction.

    Five different relationships with masculinity.

    Five different experiences with friendship, romance, family, brotherhood, uncertainty, and self-discovery.

    The blog posts I’m writing now could even become starting points.

    An idea could become a character.

    A character could become a scene.

    A scene could become a chapter.

    And eventually, that chapter could become a novel.

    The Person Comes First

    That’s ultimately what I want to remember.

    When I imagine a pan-flexible man, I don’t want to imagine only his orientation.

    I want to imagine his smile.

    His sense of humor.

    His friendships.

    His family.

    His dreams.

    His fears.

    His strengths.

    His flaws.

    His relationships.

    The things he’s proud of.

    The things he’s still learning.

    The moments when he feels completely confident.

    And the moments when he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing.

    Because that’s what makes him human.

    The label can be part of the story.

    But the man behind the label is the story I really want to tell.

  • What Years of Caring for Younger Siblings Can Teach Someone About Fatherhood

    When people talk about becoming a parent, the conversation often focuses on age.

    Was someone young when they became a parent?Did they wait until their 30s?

    Did they become a father in their 40s?

    Is 45 too late?

    Is 47 too late?

    I don’t think those questions tell us nearly as much as we sometimes assume they do.

    Age can tell us how many years someone has lived. It cannot, by itself, tell us what someone has learned during those years.

    That’s why I find the stories of men who become fathers later in life so interesting—especially men who spent much of their younger lives taking care of younger siblings and other family members.

    Some of these men may have spent decades learning about responsibility before they ever became fathers themselves.

    Caring for Someone Doesn’t Require a Parenthood Certificate

    An older brother isn’t a father simply because he helps take care of his younger siblings.

    That distinction is important.

    Parents have responsibilities that are unique to parenthood, and older siblings should not be expected to replace their parents.

    However, an older sibling can still become an important source of support.

    He might help his younger siblings with homework.

    He might make sure they have eaten.

    He might worry about them when they’re sick.

    He might teach them practical skills.

    He might encourage them when they’re struggling.

    He might take them on hikes or trips.

    He might celebrate their accomplishments.

    He might sit with them when they’re having an especially difficult day.

    He might be there when they are dealing with depression, disappointment, fear, or uncertainty.

    None of this makes him their father.

    But it can teach him something about caring for another human being.

    They Were Caring for Children Who Weren’t Even Theirs

    This is one of the ideas that stays with me the most.

    Some older brothers spend years helping care for children who aren’t theirs.

    They aren’t doing it because they expect a title.

    They aren’t necessarily expecting recognition.

    Sometimes they simply love their younger siblings.

    They want them to be safe.

    They want them to succeed.

    They want them to have opportunities.

    They want them to know that somebody believes in them.

    Imagine spending years watching your younger sibling grow.

    You remember them as a little kid.

    Then you watch them become a teenager.

    Then a young adult.

    You watch them pass difficult classes.

    You celebrate when they graduate.

    You become proud when they earn a degree.

    You encourage them when they continue their education.

    You watch them build their own life.

    That kind of experience can leave a lasting impression.

    They were doing this for children who weren’t even theirs.

    And yet they cared.

    Responsibility Can Begin Long Before Parenthood

    One reason I disagree with the idea that someone who becomes a father in his 40s must have been avoiding responsibility is that we don’t know what he was doing before becoming a parent.

    Maybe he spent years building a career.

    Maybe he worked hard to establish financial stability.

    Maybe he saved money.

    Maybe he developed multiple sources of income.

    Maybe he wanted to make sure he could provide a stable home.

    Maybe he wanted his future child to have opportunities he didn’t have.

    Maybe he didn’t want his child to enter the world struggling financially if he could reasonably prevent it.

    That doesn’t sound like someone who doesn’t want responsibility.

    It can sound like someone who takes responsibility very seriously.

    Of course, financial security isn’t the only thing children need. Love, emotional availability, patience, stability, and healthy relationships matter enormously, too.

    But wanting to establish a solid foundation before becoming a parent can be a responsible decision.

    Sometimes waiting isn’t avoidance.

    Sometimes waiting is preparation.

    The Older Brother May Learn Lessons That Later Become Valuable as a Father

    Years of helping younger siblings can teach lessons that become useful later in life.

    Patience.

    Empathy.

    Communication.

    Responsibility.

    Problem-solving.

    Compromise.

    Encouragement.

    Protectiveness.

    And perhaps one of the most important lessons:

    People need room to become themselves.

    If you’ve watched a younger sibling grow from childhood into adulthood, you’ve seen firsthand that you cannot keep someone protected from every disappointment.

    At some point, they have to make their own decisions.

    They have to make mistakes.

    They have to learn.

    They have to become independent.

    A caring older brother can support that process without trying to control it.

    Those lessons can matter in parenthood, too.

    Celebrating Someone Else’s Success

    There is another part of caregiving that deserves more attention: celebration.

    An older brother may celebrate when his younger sibling passes a test.

    Then another test.

    Then an entire semester.

    Then a difficult year.

    Then high school.

    Then college.

    Maybe the younger sibling graduates with honors.

    Maybe they earn multiple degrees.

    Maybe they finish their education faster than expected.

    Maybe they continue into graduate school.

    The older brother may not have accomplished those things himself, but he can still feel enormous pride.

    That ability to celebrate someone else’s success is an important form of love.Good parenting isn’t simply about protecting a child from danger.

    It is also about watching them become capable.

    And sometimes the greatest joy is realizing:

    “You did this yourself, and I am so proud of you.”

    But What About the Caregiver?

    There is one question I keep coming back to:

    Who takes care of the person who takes care of everyone else?

    An older brother who has spent decades being dependable can become accustomed to being the strong one.

    People may assume he’ll figure things out.

    They may call him when they need help.

    They may trust him with responsibilities.

    They may expect him to know what to do.But strength doesn’t eliminate vulnerability.

    The person who protects others can need protection.

    The person who gives advice can need guidance.

    The person who celebrates everybody else’s accomplishments deserves to have someone celebrate his.

    The person who asks everyone else, “Are you okay?” deserves to be asked the same question.

    I think this is an especially important part of conversations about masculinity.

    Men are often taught to become providers and protectors without being taught that they are allowed to need support themselves.

    Someone can be 47 and still have plenty of growing to do.

    But caring for others shouldn’t require someone to abandon himself.

    Becoming a Father Doesn’t Erase Everything That Came Before

    When a man who spent decades caring for younger siblings eventually becomes a father, I don’t think we should imagine that his life suddenly begins at that moment.

    His life was already happening.

    He already had relationships.

    He already had responsibilities.

    He already had experiences.

    He already had people who mattered to him.He already learned lessons.

    Fatherhood becomes another chapter—not necessarily the first chapter.

    And perhaps some of what he learned while caring for his siblings becomes part of the father he eventually becomes.

    Not because being an older brother is identical to being a father.

    It isn’t.

    But because experiences can shape us.

    Maturity Is About More Than a Number

    I don’t want to romanticize age.

    A person doesn’t automatically become mature at 40.

    Someone can be 47 and still plenty of growing to do.

    And someone can be much younger and demonstrate remarkable maturity.

    What matters is what a person has done with their experiences.

    Have they learned?

    Have they taken responsibility?

    Have they developed empathy?

    Can they apologize?

    Can they respect boundaries?

    Can they communicate?Can they care for someone without controlling them?

    Can they allow another person to become independent?

    Those qualities matter far more than a number on a birth certificate.

    Maybe the Wait Was Part of the PreparationWhen I think about men who become fathers later in life, I don’t want to assume that they simply waited because they didn’t want responsibility.

    Sometimes the opposite may be true.Maybe they wanted the responsibility so much that they wanted to be prepared for it.

    Maybe they spent years working.

    Maybe they spent years building stability.

    Maybe they spent years helping their families.

    Maybe they spent years caring for younger siblings.

    Maybe they spent years becoming the kind of person who could eventually say:

    “I am ready to take care of my child.”

    And perhaps that is the part of later fatherhood that deserves more recognition.

    Not every man who becomes a father in his 40s followed the same path.

    Not every older father is automatically more mature.

    But some men arrive at fatherhood carrying decades of experience that shaped how they understand responsibility, love, patience, and care.

    They may have spent their younger years helping children who weren’t even theirs.

    They may have protected younger siblings.

    They may have celebrated their successes.

    They may have supported them through their darkest moments.

    They may have worked for years to create stability.

    They may have waited because they wanted to be ready.

    And when they finally become fathers, perhaps they aren’t beginning to learn what responsibility means.

    Perhaps they are bringing a lifetime of lessons with them.

    That is why I don’t think we should always ask:

    “Why did he wait so long?

    “Sometimes a better question is:

    “What was he doing with all those years?”

    Because the answer might reveal that he wasn’t running away from responsibility at all.

    He was learning how to carry it.

  • Beyond Labels: Straight, Pan-Flexible, Demipansexual, and Panromantic Men Who Make Masculinity Feel Safer

    I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the different kinds of men I admire.

    Sometimes that admiration centers on pansexual or panromantic men. Sometimes it centers on pan-coded male characters. Sometimes it is the fictional man who seems completely straight but has an extraordinarily open, accepting, emotionally intimate way of relating to other people.

    And sometimes the man I’m imagining is somewhere between those categories.

    That’s where concepts such as pan-flexibility, demipansexuality, and panromanticism become interesting to me.

    Not because everyone needs to fit neatly into one label, but because human attraction and human relationships can be complicated.

    A straight man can still be remarkably open

    One of the men I find particularly fascinating is the straight man who is completely comfortable supporting pansexual men, panromantic men, pan-coded men, and LGBTQ+ people generally.

    He doesn’t need to understand every experience personally in order to respect it.

    He might have a very traditionally masculine appearance.

    He might enjoy sports, working with his hands, fitness, cars, fashion, or other traditionally masculine interests.

    But emotionally, he’s different from the stereotype of the emotionally closed-off man.

    He’s affectionate.

    He’s supportive.

    He’s comfortable with close male friendships.

    He isn’t afraid to compliment another man.He doesn’t panic if somebody assumes he’s queer.

    And he doesn’t believe that supporting LGBTQ+ people somehow makes him less straight or less masculine.

    To me, that is a beautiful form of masculinity.

    Pan-flexibility can complicate the picture

    Some men may identify as straight while acknowledging that their attraction doesn’t always fit perfectly into a rigid heterosexual box.

    Others may prefer labels such as bisexual, pansexual, queer, or panromantic.

    The important thing is that the man gets to choose the label that describes him.

    That’s especially important when discussing “pan-coded” people.

    Someone can give off what I personally interpret as panromantic or pansexual energy without actually being pansexual or panromantic.

    Coding isn’t confirmation.It’s a perception.

    And that’s perfectly okay as long as I remember the difference.

    What about demipansexual men?Demipansexuality is especially interesting because it adds another dimension to attraction.

    A demipansexual man may be capable of attraction toward people regardless of gender while generally needing a significant emotional connection before sexual attraction develops.

    That creates a very different experience from simply saying, “I’m attracted to everyone.”

    It emphasizes connection before sexual attraction.

    Trust.

    Emotional intimacy.

    Understanding.

    Safety.

    Those qualities matter enormously to me.

    They also challenge the stereotype that men are supposed to experience sexuality immediately, constantly, and without emotional complexity.

    Men can experience attraction differently.

    Men can need emotional connection.

    Men can be deeply affectionate.And none of that makes them less masculine.

    Panromantic men deserve visibility too

    Romantic attraction and sexual attraction aren’t necessarily identical.

    A man can be panromantic without being pansexual.

    He can fall in love with people regardless of gender while experiencing sexual attraction differently.

    I think this distinction deserves much more attention.

    Romance is about things like affection, emotional intimacy, companionship, tenderness, and falling in love.

    Those experiences shouldn’t automatically be reduced to sexuality.

    That’s one reason panromantic male characters fascinate me so much.

    They allow stories to explore male emotional intimacy in ways that aren’t always represented.

    Supporting pansexual and panromantic trans men

    I also think it’s important to include pansexual and panromantic trans men in these conversations.

    A trans man doesn’t become less of a man because he’s pansexual, panromantic, bisexual, queer, or anything else.

    His gender identity and his orientation are different parts of who he is.

    And a straight man can support him.

    A pansexual man can support him.

    A panromantic man can support him.

    Another trans man can support him.

    Friendship and solidarity don’t require everyone to share the same identity.

    Sometimes support simply means saying:

    “I believe you. I respect you. You deserve to be treated like yourself.”

    The kind of masculinity I want to see

    Ultimately, I keep coming back to one idea:

    Masculinity doesn’t have to be rigid to be masculine.

    A man can be strong and gentle.

    He can be protective without becoming controlling.

    He can be confident without humiliating anyone.

    He can love his male friends.He can support LGBTQ+ people.

    He can be heterosexual, bisexual, pansexual, panromantic, demipansexual, pan-flexible, or something else entirely.And he can still be himself.

    That’s the kind of masculinity I admire.

    Not masculinity that disappears.

    Not masculinity that has to apologize for itself.

    But masculinity that becomes spacious enough for other people to breathe.

    Maybe that’s why I continue to be fascinated by panromantic men, pansexual men, pan-coded men, and the fictional men who seem to embody those qualities.

    I’m not simply fascinated by labels.

    I’m fascinated by possibility.

    The possibility that men can be emotionally close without being ashamed.

    The possibility that masculinity can be protective without being frightening.

    The possibility that attraction doesn’t have to create hostility.

    And the possibility that a man can look at another man and simply see another human being worthy of friendship, affection, respect, and love. That’s the kind of world—and the kind of masculinity—I want to keep writing about.