Mark Sherman recalls two polite interactions with other guys that could have easily gone the other way.
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A few months ago, in the space of five days, I had two positive experiences involving men who were total strangers. Both were great examples of men behaving less aggressively than stereotypes would dictate, and, with all due modesty, that includes me. These two interactions reminded me that men are changing, that the typical average guy on the street—despite one’s expectations—is less likely to be a selfish, hot-headed jerk and more likely to be a generous and forgiving gentleman. Most important, although I don’t know how these exchanges made the other men feel, I know that in each case, they made my day.
I am by no means a male apologist. Men don’t need apologists. I will not abide—and will actively deconstruct—any stereotypes that pigeonhole men as defective or inadequate.
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I am by no means a male apologist. Men don’t need apologists. I will not abide—and will actively deconstruct—any stereotypes that pigeonhole men as defective or inadequate. Still, I know lots of men, myself included, who have much upon which we can improve, and one of these areas is a quick tendency to anger, particularly when our position or authority is challenged, or we believe we may appear weak in front of other men. But we men are adults, not children, and if we are going to follow a path of lasting self-improvement, it won’t be only because a chorus of female voices is telling us to shape up. Our primary mentors and behavioral role models are not women but other men, and our bettering ourselves is much more likely to result from our own experiences with other sensitive, compassionate, and thoughtful men—and women. This means we need men to step up and model what we want to see.
Here’s my first story.
I had pulled into a small parking lot, which was crowded due to piles of plowed snow. I had already circled the lot once, and was coming back around; I saw an empty space a few cars to on my left. I put on my directional and was about to turn into the space, when suddenly a car pulled in from another entrance to the lot and immediately made a right turn into the space I thought was mine.
The driver was a young guy, and I think he had a couple of other young male passengers with him.
I was not pleased. I honked my horn once, and then, mumbling curses to myself, I kept going around the small lot. I soon found another space and pulled into it. But I was still angry, and I thought about what I would say if I could find that other driver.
I wasn’t planning on yelling. Rather I was going to educate. These guys looked like college students (I live in a college town), and I am a former college teacher. I was going to tell the driver how upset I was, but also why I wasn’t going to let myself stay angry. Here’s what I thought I might say.
You know you cut me off, but I’m not going to give you a hard time about it. My father once got into a yelling argument over a parking space, and my mom was with him. He gave up, and drove off. But within five minutes he was dead from a massive coronary. He was 68 and I’m 72.
I just want you to think about that next time some old guy is about to go into a space.
But I didn’t even look for the driver and just let it go. I finished my errands, then went back to my car. I was about to leave, when there was a knock on my window. It was the young man who had cut me off.
I rolled down my window.
“I think I cut you off from a space a little while ago,” he said. “And I’m really sorry.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
“That’s all right,” I said. “It’s great that you came over to say something about it!”
“I really am sorry,” he said again.
I opened my door, shook his hand, and said, in all sincerity, “Thank you! You’ve made my day.”
He absolutely had. And perhaps in my gracious response, I had made his too.
♦◊♦
The second incident took place five days later at a car wash. It was the first day with temperatures above freezing in weeks, and I wanted to wash my car to get the road salt off the bottom. I was waiting behind a car that was next in line for a bay. There appeared to be a dispute between the driver of the car already in the bay—a young woman—and the person in front of me—a woman of about 45. After an angry exchange, the older woman suddenly took off. The younger one finished up, and now it was my turn.
Or so I thought. I got out of my car and started to get my quarters together to put in the slot, when suddenly a rough-hewn guy of about 40 appeared at the front of the bay.
“I was next,” he said. “Didn’t you see me? You cut in front of me.”
I had seen his small truck sitting in the lot, but it was close to the road, not up where the bays are.
“No,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t realize you were in line. But it’s no problem. I’ll just get out of here, and you can go ahead. No problem at all.”
He paused. And then he said, “No, go ahead, you’ve been so nice about it. Go ahead.”
“But you’re welcome to it,” I said. “Really.”
“No,” he said. “You’ve been really nice.” And he proceeded to another bay.
So my calm demeanor makes it far less likely that I’ll die of a heart attack after a yelling fit the way my dad did, and it also means I feel better after interacting with other people in potentially charged situations. In fact, I feel great.
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Again, here were two guys in a situation that could have become a shouting match, or worse, a fight. Maybe he fully expected me to protest and was primed for an altercation. Maybe that’s what a lot of guys are like in his world. And it’s probably what I would have been like years ago. But like a lot of men I know, I have worked to turn that around. Getting angry about who gets to use the car wash first doesn’t solve anything or make the world a better place. And if you get in touch with your feelings, you realize it doesn’t even make you feel better. So my calm demeanor makes it far less likely that I’ll die of a heart attack after a yelling fit the way my dad did, and it also means I feel better after interacting with other people in potentially charged situations. In fact, I feel great.
These two moments showed me, and perhaps the other men, too, the joys of self-restraint, apology, and gratitude, and the value of a cool head over a hot temper. They truly made my week.
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I believe this is one of the best ways men can deny the stereotype of the violent aggressor, and I am heartened to see it happening in my daily interactions. Men don’t lose power by being less aggressive and threatening. Men come into their true power by taking control—of both the situation and their own emotions—to resolve things peacefully. Telling us to do this is one thing, but when we hold ourselves back and do the right thing ourselves, we men take charge of developing, promoting, and enforcing a new, healthier masculinity.
By the way, here’s an unsolicited tip for women. If you’d like a man to change—perhaps it’s your significant other—the best thing you can do is show appreciation for improvement, no matter how slight. When I taught psychology, which I did for more than 25 years, I talked about “shaping,” about how to positively reinforce even the smallest steps toward a desired behavior. The woman whose husband washes the dishes and then says to her, “Honey, I washed the dishes!” may be tempted to say, “Big deal. Welcome to my world. I do them all the time.” But if so, she’s missed a golden opportunity to reinforce positive change.
Amy Sutherland expressed this truth in “What Shamu Taught Me About a Happy Marriage,” a New York Times “Modern Love” piece that ran nearly a decade ago
The central lesson I learned from exotic animal trainers is that I should reward behavior I like and ignore behavior I don’t. After all, you don’t get a sea lion to balance a ball on the end of its nose by nagging. The same goes for the American husband.
Photo—Tony Alter/Flickr
GMP needs more writers like you. Thank you. So many writers beating the drum of Liberalism and Feminism it’s become hard to hear any male voices speaking to men about being good men.