Friendships matter just as much as your relationship

Because of outdated gender norms, many men are reliant on our partner for emotional support. That's not good for us.

A few days ago, my partner cried—but she smiled too. She was saying goodbye to a friend she wouldn’t be seeing again for months or, more likely, years. It was our last day visiting this friend nearly on the other side of the country in Utah. Her friend—a woman—cried too as they hugged and stared into each other’s eyes.

Something in my body recoiled. It was way too much emotion for a Sunday afternoon. Too much intimacy. Too much vulnerability. Too much directness.

But another part of me envied them—and all women who grew up being taught that it’s okay to show vulnerable emotions. I feel that same loving ache when I’m leaving a buddy knowing I won’t see him for a while. I just don’t notice it until hours or even days later. I’ll hug him or pat his back and say something like, “Take care, brother.” Then it’s done. I walk away and move on to the next thing. Then, slowly, it hits me hours later when I get a moment to myself: I’m going to miss that guy. He really matters to me. I love him.

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I’m not alone in struggling to express how I feel.

While men and women are equally emotional, we tend to express emotions in different ways (because of socialization, not biology). Women often express a wider range of emotion, from happiness to sadness, while men are most expressive with anger. This makes many men reliant on our partner for emotional support, while women tend to provide and receive more support from multiple social connections, including family and friends. We pour our heart out to our partner (if we’re lucky to have one), but we put a wall up to everyone else.

As domestic violence researcher Lee Shevek writes:

“[Cisgender men are] emotionally stifled and struggle to express the fullness of their authenticity with each other ... [yet] among [kids, women, and other gender marginalized people, men] can generally unleash any emotional storm they want ... with the expectation of receiving unconditional support and bottomless empathy in return.”

This makes it hard for many men to develop close, supportive relationships with people we aren’t in a relationship with. Americans of all genders are suffering through a loneliness epidemic, especially in the aftermath of the pandemic. But men have suffered a steeper decline in friendships over the last few decades. Thirty years ago, 55 percent of men reported having at least six close friends. A 2021 study found that by then that number had been cut in half.

It also can put a ton of strain on romantic relationships, especially heterosexual relationships. Women’s higher relational skills are a double-edged sword. Women are taught from a young age to prioritize other people’s feelings before their own. This makes them vulnerable to shouldering the brunt of men’s “emotional storms.” As Melanie Hamlett wrote in Harper’s Bazaar in 2019:

“While [women] read countless self-help books, listen to podcasts, seek out career advisors, turn to female friends for advice and support, or spend a small fortune on therapists to deal with old wounds and current problems, the men in their lives simply rely on them.”

And because men were never taught how to express emotions (other than anger), our feelings are often hard to decipher. Philosophy professor and host of the Overthink podcast Ellie Anderson recently coined the term “hermeneutic labor” to describe the emotional work that goes into trying to figure out what men are feeling. Add that to all the work women are forced to take on inside and outside the home (much of it unpaid), and it’s a recipe for burnout and relationship disatisfaction.

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👋 New to this newsletter? I’m Jeremy, a therapist busting the myth of “traditional masculinity” and helping men and couples have better relationships. If you subscribe, you’ll get a free post like this every week. For $5/month you’ll get my Friday Q&A posts with specific advice on how to improve your relationship, get better at dating, raise a boy in a healthy way, support the men in your life, and more. 👋

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If you’re a man like me who struggles with maintaining close friendships, I want you to know that it’s not our fault.

We weren’t given the tools to nurture and maintain support networks. Instead, we were sold a fantasy that as long as we followed our “natural” tendencies as men things would work out fine. We were told to provide and protect and let our partner handle the rest. That was a lie. The economy has shifted in ways that are disrupting the gender norms that once (sort of) worked for the last few generations of men. I would argue it never really worked for our fathers and grandfathers either. It definitely didn’t work for women.

The good news is we can do something about it. Our tendencies aren’t set in stone. They definitely aren’t “traditional,” “natural,” or biological. Like any other human being we were born with the ability to feel and communicate emotion. Research even suggests that infant boys are more emotionally expressive than girls. That was almost completely stripped out of us by parents, other adults, and other boys who sent us the message that we’d be kicked off the team if we were “weak,” “soft,” and “girly.” But we can build on what we have deep inside. We can change and grow. We need to change and grow.

The best way I know is to practice. I go to group therapy every week. I see my therapist every other week. I meet with a few buddies in a men’s group every month. I’ve needed this structure and consistency to slowly strengthen my relational skills. If just thought about it on my own, read books, and listened to podcasts, it probably wouldn’t have happened.

Over time I’ve found myself saying “I love you” when I say goodbye to friends—when doing so would’ve made me want to throw up in the past. It just comes out of me. I’ve also started tearing up when others share their painful experiences with me. I now know that’s a sign that I’m feeling bad for them—that I’m empathizing. I try my best to let them know that. It’s hard because I’m still embarrassed to cry. But I’m learning that vulnerability is what builds strong friendships, which is what I really want.

About a year ago, a friend broke up with me.

At least that’s what it felt like it, and I told him as much. We were new friends, bonded over our shared interest in being therapists and leading men’s groups. He told—on a Zoom call because we live in different states—that he wouldn’t be reaching out to me anymore. He didn’t like how it took me so long to get back to him when he texted. He wanted to talk more often than every few weeks. He wanted more from me, which because of my busy schedule of being a new therapist and launching this newsletter, I just couldn’t give him. My throat choked up and tears pooled in my eyes. I told him it felt like a romantic break up. He agreed and we ended the call.

That’s the unfortunate truth of reclaiming the emotional range that was taken from us by this society. When you make yourself available for the good feelings, you’re open to the pain too. When you open your heart and build close connections, there’s more to lose.

But that’s exactly what I want. I’m tired of pouring myself into work when my partner is out of town, because I don’t want to touch the loneliness that’s right under the surface. I’m tired of never telling my buddies how much they matter to me. I want more friends. The close kind. The kind you can smile and cry with.

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Now, a question for the comments below: How have your friendships evolved over time?

(P.S. If you become a paid subscriber for $5/month, you’ll get my weekly Friday Q&A posts about improving your relationship and friendships, plus the warm feeling of supporting my writing.)