“The male loneliness epidemic” or how men reinforce our own prison bars

Photo by Jorgen Hendriksen on Unsplash

The other day I went to a book club. It happened to be in a rural area, and it happened to be all men. As I walked in the ten or so guys already there sat around a table, barely making conversation. One guy, a little older, started telling a story or two and getting a few laughs before we got going. But even his good humor couldn’t shake this feeling off me, this feeling of isolation or solitude that struck me the second I walked in the door and saw that circle. There was no reason for that room to be somber, or at least no good reason that I saw. Yet there we were. Even as different people shared about the book we were discussing, on environmentalism and climate change, these men didn’t look each other in the eye, didn’t nod along, didn’t connect with one another.

I don’t know if I stood out in that room, or not. I wasn’t dressed all that different, I didn’t look all that different (I think), but I acted a little different. Specifically, I made eye contact with the other men in the room as they spoke. I smiled and nodded along. I hear some people call it active listening; I guess I think of it mostly as paying attention and showing that you care. Maybe that was the real difference. I was comfortable showing that I cared. How difficult, how lonely and painful, to not be able to show you care about something or someone. And how it hurts and changes you to not show affection or care again and again and again.