Lonely Together: The Complexity of Male Friendships

And How This Affects All of Us

This is a post that I wrote over two years ago that only went to paid subscribers. I think I only had one or two paid subscribers back then. Being transparent, one main reason why I released it to paid subscribers is because I knew that it was a safe space. Probably the safest space since pretty much no one was going to read it.

While this particular post focuses on making friends as a man and how difficult that is, the underlying current is masculinity. What does it mean to be a man? What does society expect from men? And more importantly, how can men break away from these pre-conceived notions that hurt us and by extension the people in our lives?

Men get heartbroken. Men get depressed. Men get their feelings hurt. The difference is that men just don’t talk about it. Mainly, because we feel that we can’t, and because we feel that people won’t respond favorably if we do share our feelings.

It probably won’t come as a surprise to learn that one of the themes in my memoir is masculinity. I can’t wait for you to read that when it’s done.

I decided to release this post to all my readers because it’s an important topic and it’s one that I think about a lot. Hiding it under a paid subscription defeats the whole purpose of why I wrote it. I suppose that means that I’m making progress. Please share with the men (and women) in your life.

Lonely Together: The Complexity of Male Friendships

It’s really hard to make friends. I don’t mean acquaintances, or a co-worker who you occasionally hang out with, but an actual deep, meaningful friendship. If you’re a man, making friends is even harder.

There are many reasons, but the main one is that men are taught and conditioned to not show their feelings or be honest about them. I remember, as a boy, being repeatedly told by my dad the old adage, “men don’t cry.” It didn’t matter if I had just scraped my knee, busted my head open, or had my water gun stolen, I wasn’t supposed to cry because that’s something men don’t do. Men are supposed to be stoic and the only feeling we’re allowed to have is anger. Of course, anger is an emotion, and one could easily accuse an angry person of being “emotional,” but most men in our society don’t see it that way. “Emotional” is a term men usually use to describe a woman in a negative light, typically during an argument.

It’s hard to make a meaningful connection with someone without being vulnerable. That’s why most men “bond” over sports, or cars, or beer, or women, or other completely innocuous topics. These are superficial friendships. All of these men have real, actual feelings deep inside, but they can’t articulate those to their male friends. And because being “emotional” is seen as something feminine, men equate that with seeming weak, or god forbid, effeminate. They know that their male friends don’t want to hear it, or even if they do, they don’t have the tools to actually respond in a productive way.

I remember that when my great-grandfather died, my youngest cousin Yinet received praise for “being strong” and not crying. Now, looking back, I think she was just too young to understand what death meant. Or perhaps she was in shock, because that morning our great-grandpa Luis said goodbye as we went to school and when we got back in the afternoon, he wasn’t there. He had a heart attack shortly after we had left that morning.

I wanted to cry because I missed him, but hearing about Yinet, a girl, get praise for not crying, made me repress my emotions. I didn’t cry. I was a man, and men don’t cry. I was not even 7 years old, but I had to be “strong.” Or was it okay for men to cry when a loved one died? I didn’t know the rules, but I knew that I didn’t want to appear “weak.”

And that equation of emotions equal weakness is something that most men from my generation carry with us. And so, we’re trapped. We have all of these feelings and insecurities and desperately need someone who can truly understand them, but we don’t want to appear “weak” to our friends, and frankly, our friends don’t want to hear it. They don’t know what to do with another man crying in front of them. We’ve all been conditioned by society this way. So what do most men do? Well, if they’re in a marriage or a relationship, they cast that burden to their significant other. They expect their wives or girlfriends to be their one and all. And some men get jealous when they’re not their significant other’s one and all in return.

Don’t get me wrong; I do think it’s important to share and be vulnerable with your partner, but I also think it’s really healthy and important to have other friends you can be honest with.

I had a really good friend in Cuba, but that ended when I left and we were both children anyway. I had another good friend in middle school in Miami, but we ended up going to different high schools. In my mid-20s, I did have two really good friends, men that I could be vulnerable and open with, but that also fizzled out after I moved to the Midwest.

Moving to the Midwest in my late 20s had its challenges. I basically didn’t have any male friends for the first five years I lived here. It was a lonely time. Only after I started an art project called Kansas Young, did I actually begin to make my own friends. Even then, some of these friendships are not as meaningful or as deep as I would like them to be. Although, I have to admit that achieved a level of closeness with some of these friends and I’m thankful for that.

Grabbing a beer with Dennis, one of those honest friends. Also, a great poet.

I’m not really a sports guy. I’ll watch the occasional game here and there, but I’m into writing, reading, arts…so I’m not the guy you ask, “did you catch the game last night?” That already makes me an outcast of sorts in the general male population.

It’s scary to put yourself out there, to open up to another male friend and then be received by the sound of crickets, or strange looks that say, “this was too much.” And yet, the only way to change things is by actually changing them. Someone has to be the trendsetter. Honestly, I’ve been trying to do this for a while now, albeit to mixed results. It’s often disheartening, for sure.

Most men want and need this level of friendship, but they don’t know how to do it or how to ask for it. I do think things are changing though. At least more men are talking about this and more studies are being conducted, as well as practical things we can do. There is hope for the next generation. I plan on teaching my son that it is okay for men to cry, to be afraid, to be emotionally present and to show love. Men, women; we all have the same desire to know and to be known and to be seen for who we truly are by our family and our friends.

If you’re a man, do you struggle making close friends? If you’re a woman and have a male partner, have you experienced this secondhand? I would like to hear your thoughts and have an engaging discussion.

Thanks for reading.