I Love You, Man
When the pandemic shut the world down in March of 2020, our family went into a hard lockdown. Barb and I both work from home. Liz shifted to online school and Justin was not in school yet. I would leave for occasional trips to the grocery store. Other than that we would spend the rest of the spring and summer at home. For the first few weeks we didn’t even go outside. It seems crazy to think back on that now, but at the time there was genuine confusion and fear about what was happening and what it all meant.
Eventually we did go outside. We got stir crazy. Justin and I were super excited when we heard that town parks were reopening. There were masks and social distancing - both of which can be hard for little kids - but at least there was a chance to play outside somewhere other than our backyard. So he and I headed out to the Community Park. We went on the very first day the parks reopened.
When we got there we saw a few other intrepid souls in a mostly empty park. Justin made a beeline for the playground. There we met another kid about his age - a little girl named Madeline. Justin and Madeline kind of played near each other for a while. Even though they were the only two on the playground, they were going to the same places. Madeline’s mom and I talked for a bit while she held Madeline’s little brother who had arrived in February, just before the world closed.
By the time I turned my attention back to Justin he and Madeline were running and talking in the way kids do. Okay. This is Justin we are talking about. It was less them talking and more Justin monologuing and Madeline listening. But it was a pro-social, age-appropriate interaction with a peer. I was thrilled.
So was Justin. When we were on the way home I asked if he had a good time. “YES!” he said emphatically. I asked what had been the best part. “I made a friend,” he said.
And he had. My then 4 year old with autism had met and connected with someone at the park. After being on lockdown at home for 6 months. He met her, he liked her, and they hung out together. They liked one another despite communicating with faces covered and a minimum distance of 6 feet at all times (hey, it was 2020). He made a friend despite all of the obstacles in his path. And it only took him about 10 minutes. I was really proud of him. I also felt a tiny twinge of sadness. He made a close friend in 10 minutes.
You could give me 10 years and I don’t know if I could do the same thing.
I have spent an inordinate amount of time as an adult believing that I couldn’t make friends. Feeling friendless.
And it sucks to feel alone.
The rap group Whodini said that you can look the word up - again and again - but “the dictionary doesn't know the meaning of friends.” There are definitions and descriptions of what a friend is and isn’t all around. It was a preoccupation of ancient philosophers, who were intimately concerned with what we owed one another as people, and whether those close to us were deserving of different treatment than that we would give a stranger, or even a neighbor.
I don’t know that I have a good definition of what a friend is. And maybe that is the problem. I mean, if I can’t define it, how can I know when I have it? I just assumed that it meant a connection with someone who cared as much about me as I did about them. Someone who had my back. Someone I could laugh with and talk with. Someone who I could share with. I had some vague notions of what a friend was. Mostly because I had a history of friendships that had gone sideways.
My best friend in elementary school moved away. I was the one who moved away from my best friend in middle school and the beginning of high school. And this was pre-internet. When you moved away from someone the friendship basically ended. Do you remember when long distance was a thing? And how much it cost?
My best friend in college turned out to be way more interested in the support and encouragement that I gave him than the other way around. My best friends in the military struggled to see that I was changing and wasn’t staying where I was when we met, a place that was comfortable for them.
After I left places like college and the military - places where the proximity with people and the intensity of the experience make finding friends easy - it became much harder to make friends, especially guy friends.
Let me deal with the whole When Harry Met Sally thing. Men and women absolutely can and should be platonic friends. It’s 2022. Anyone who doesn’t think that it is possible and desirable is living in a different time. Men should be friends with other men. And with women. And people who identify as both. Or neither. Everyone should have friendships with everyone.
And. There is something unique about friendships between guys that can not be duplicated in other friendships. There is a way that men can understand and support one another that simply can’t be replicated in other friendships. Guys need guys. Women need women. Nonbinary folx need nonbinary folx. We need to be in close community with people who understand what we are going through.
After college and the military, I had friends. Two of my very best friends in the whole world came into my life during that time. Two people that are in the next circle out from my wife and kids, two people who I would trust with my kids. They are both women. Women so close I call them my sisters. And I would do anything for either of them. And I know they would do the same for me - they have. Many of the people I have had the chance to get closest to during these years have been women. And it has been great. I have learned a lot. I have gained a perspective I did not have before.
And as wonderful as all this has been, I have craved a connection with other men.
And here’s the thing. I don’t think it’s just me. I actually think this is a real problem. I think that there is a crisis of connection generally. And I think that the challenge is acute among men.
In the 2009 movie, I Love You, Man, Paul Rudd plays a character who is desperate to find a best man for his wedding and realizes he has no close male friends. So he goes on a series of “man-dates” to try and find someone who he can ask. While the movie is fairly forgettable, the challenge isn’t. I have met several men who have talked of similar struggles. We live in a time that challenges all of us to find emotional support. The challenge of being human has always been acute. Now the human condition is not only acute, it also has TikTok. We all need people that can understand and support us. But how do we find that person? Those people? As Paul Rudd finds out in the movie, it’s harder than it looks.
In the end, it’s Hollywood. Paul Rudd finds Jason Segel (who seems almost as cool in real life as this character) and it’s best-friends-ever-after. Real life isn’t the movies.
Mostly it’s just hard. People are busy. They have their routines. They are focused on career and kids and their own dramas and struggles. Friends - especially the prospect of finding and growing new ones - feels incredibly daunting. And so we get stasis and we don’t change and we don’t meet new people.
Here’s the thing though. If we don’t meet new people, if we don’t develop close friendships (especially with those we share the most in common with) then we lose the very source of comfort, support, and care that can see us through the things that so vex us.
There are so many social and political problems that we face. And at their heart that is because of one thing - loneliness. We are built for connection. And without it we suffer.
I have been setting up a few man dates. I am trying to grow new friendships. I am finding out new things about the world and myself. I haven’t found a Jason Segel yet, but I do have a Sam (even though he lives 3 states away) and a Tyrone and a Bryan. And I will keep growing and seeking.
It’s all any of us can do.
Thanks for reading. Be well everyone. Keep pounding the rock.
Thanks for sharing. I love you, too!