What Makes Dudes Cry?

Real men cry. These are their stories.

There was a time when my kids were little and I was going through a messy divorce when I cried pretty much all the time. But in recent years, I tend more toward anger than sadness when emotions run strong. I know it’s just a cover, but somehow my shell has hardened again.

In an effort to get my tear ducts flowing again, I asked men from all across the country to tell me about the last time they cried. Not surprisingly, some guys didn’t want to talk publicly about bawlin’ their eyes out. But many surprised me by echoing what I felt: They wanted to cry more. They desperately wanted to access the pain and sadness that was stuck somewhere between the heart and the eyes. Others (the lucky ones, and quite often the toughest ones) told me they had no trouble crying. They were in touch with themselves.

Many of us grow up being told—by our dads, our older brothers, our coaches—that we shouldn’t cry, and that if we do we certainly shouldn’t admit to it. That’s bullshit, obviously, and the sooner we get that idea out of our heads, the better off we’ll be—and the better men we’ll be.

What follows is extraordinary, if you ask me. Men (some famous, some not) lay themselves bare for the world to see. Some of their answers made me laugh. Others made me want to cry.

When was the last time you cried? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

“Charlotte’s Web, page 165. ‘I’m done for,’ Charlotte tells Wilbur. Try reading that aloud to your kid and not crying.”
Jonathan Eig, author

I cried while watching Aliens the other night. Sigourney Weaver does that to me.”
Thomas Patrick Naughton, project coordinator

“The day I got out of jail.”
Tim Donaghy, former NBA referee who was convicted of betting on games

“I’m pretty good at repressing my emotions. Actually, I’m kind of in favor of repression. It gets a bad rap. But back to the question. It was probably at my niece’s bat mitzvah. It was at this suburban Jersey country club, and I was dancing with my three-year-old son. I was carrying him, and he had his head pressed against my shoulder, and I felt such gratitude that I wept.”
A.J. Jacobs, author

I had a baby this year. So I’ve cried more this year than in the past ten together. I’m guessing a month ago. Anything in a movie or TV show about a baby will do it. Sometimes just holding my son will do it. It causes me to think about all the tiny, little, seemingly inconsequential decisions that led to his birth; they now seem super-important. And I think about dead family members and friends who never met him. And I just think how incredible it is that he’s so lacking in fear or guile. I keep saying he’s a good person, and I know that’s ridiculous, but it just feels true. I cannot imagine my four-month-old growing up and committing genocide. Though if he does, I hope he’s the best genocidist he can possibly be.”
Joel Stein, journalist

In the locker room with our seniors after last year’s bowl game.”
Pat Fitzgerald, Northwestern head football coach. (NU lost in overtime to Auburn.)

“About ten minutes ago.”
Ron Cowie, photographer

The last time I cried was the night after my brother first molested me. I was 10. He was 16. I’m 33 now. We still haven’t talked about it.”
Anonymous

“I cry all the time. My mother had a big impact on my life when I was young, because I had a lot of respect for her. Her father died at an early age, and she had a lot of brothers and sisters, and her mom couldn’t take care of all of them. So she and two other younger siblings went to the orphanage for a few years. One time when I was about 14, I decided I was going to run away from home. I’m getting all my stuff together, and then my mother gets up and she comes downstairs. She says, ‘What are you doing?’ I said, ‘I’m leaving. I got to go. I’m running away.’ And she said, ‘Well, let me fix you a sandwich.’ And I decided maybe I wouldn’t go.”
Dave Cowens, NBA Hall of Famer

“About six or seven months ago. I was at the tail end of three 16-hour shifts, and just broke down for about three minutes. It was a good time.”
Mike Letourneau, audio engineer

“The last time I really drained my ducts was when I walked into my home to see an oak box resting on my bookcase. Delivered that day, it holds the ashes of my Rhodesian Ridgeback, Ulee, who my wife and I had to euthanize a few weeks prior, a month shy of his twelvth birthday. Ulee taught me how to love without expectation and prepared me for fatherhood in a way that I could never have appreciated beforehand. Holding him while the sedative took his last breath was hardest thing I’ve done. I cried for three days until dry, provoked at every turn and action by a decade of memories: his leash hanging from the hook by the door, the smell he left on his pillow, peeling the plastic bag off the morning newspaper, walking by the enormous vacancy by the back door or passing the park on the way to work. The box brought all of it rushing back in a flood. I cried for several hours. And I’m sure I’m not done.”
Jeffrey O’Brien, journalist

“When I struck out against Dustin Louthan in Bambino League baseball at the age of 13. My dad said, ‘Stop crying. You have to earn your cries.’ I stopped, and I’m waiting until I earn one. I suspect when it comes, it will be big.”
Will Leitch, author

I want to cry pretty much every time I watch my network these days. Rick Sanchez? Really?
Anonymous, CNN employee

“When my friend Kirby Puckett passed away unexpectedly. He was coming to visit and play golf and get together. He was a great guy. When I heard he had a stroke and passed away…He’s just one of the best human beings that people would know. He was a lot of fun, he was a friend to so many people. And besides being teammates and all that, we were fishing buddies.”
Dave Winfield, baseball Hall of Famer

I was in the front seat of the car, facing west toward the sun. I had been watching my niece all day. We had gone swimming—I had taught her how earlier in the summer. I looked into the rearview mirror to check on her and with a smile she met my gaze and spoke. “I love you, Uncle.” On the car ride back home, tears caught the lashes of my eyes for a moment. It was the first time in a long while that I had cried.”
Silas Forster, sales associate

“I honestly can’t remember the last time I cried. I used to cry fairly often, for no reason. Well, depression was the reason. Antidepressants, thank God, have mostly kept me from reaching that low for the past decade. But there have been times when I almost cried, when I wanted to cry, when tears welled up behind my eyes—at the funeral of my uncle, at the birth of my son—but the gates wouldn’t open.”
Jonathan Lesser, journalist

I cried for three hours last year after my wife found out that I had cheated on her, for the umpteenth time, with a prostitute. It was hard to figure out exactly why I was crying. Was I crying over the pain I’d caused her? Was I crying over the man I’d become? Was I crying over the fear of losing her? Were my tears selfish? Was I capable of feeling true empathy for my wife? I didn’t know. I still don’t know.”
Anonymous

“I can get tears in my eyes from a beautiful work of art. I get pretty emotional around the time of my mother’s death, so I probably cried around then, just a month or so ago.”
Nick Flynn, author (Nick’s mother committed suicide when he was 22. He’s 49 now.)

“The last really good cry I had was the night Barack Obama was elected president. I was overwhelmed by what it meant about the country, socially.”
Tom Jolly, journalist

“When I told my company about a fellow Marine friend who died in combat fighting for all of us. God, it felt good (to share my pain).”
John “Jay” Rogers, Marine

The last time I cried I was drunk and stoned and watching an early season of The Simpsons. I laughed so hard I cried.
Anonymous

The last time I cried was when a caller to my radio show recounted her experience at being put into an antigay academy when she was in high school because her mother believed it would turn her straight. The emotional toll was powerful, and she thought of suicide several times, as she recounted how she was ridiculed in that school. I often tear up when people call the show and tell their stories of struggles. It makes me wonder how many more are out there who won’t ever call and are still dealing with the pain.”
Michelangelo Signorile, radio host

“When I was a child. Crying doesn’t fix the problems; action does, and I haven’t found a need to cry when I’m ‘doing.’”
Dr. Dennis Neder, author

“I had a method for never marrying, then I met Michele, and as our time together passed, the only flaw revealed was mine, my fear of commitment. We decided to make a new life out west. I sipped tequila in the backyard under the dense canopy of East Coast foliage I’d been under my entire youth. My life, my dreams all based on being in or near New York, were ending. I found myself on my knees on the patio, tears running down my cheeks, then hot snot over my mouth and chin. It went on for a long time, till I had no more. It was the best damn cry I’ve ever had.”
Barney Moran, Daddy Boot Camp instructor

“When Aaron’s new school recently held a social activity for fathers and sons, every so often I’d reach up and squeeze his shoulder or rub his back, or ask him how many doughnuts he’d eaten. When it was time for me to go, Aaron said, “Bye,” and I brushed a bit of chocolate from his face, still soft and as smooth as frosting. A minute later he was off to class, and I stepped outside into the California winter sun. My eyes welled up and my chest heaved. I made a point of looking up into the sun as I passed them. Looking into the sun brings tears sometimes. I didn’t really let go until I got into my car.”
Jeffrey K. Wallace, professor and author

“It doesn’t make much sense now. As you get older, I’m telling you, the feminine side really comes out. I can watch kids with their dads. The smallest of things now bring out that sensitive side in me that we all have in us.”
Ozzie Smith, baseball Hall of Famer

“I have an odd relationship with my lacrimal glands. I rarely cry in response to events going on in my own life, but might just easily blubber up when watching some ridiculous movie, like ‘Drumline’ (when Nick Cannon shows his high school diploma to his deadbeat dad and notes that he graduated without any help from his sorry ass). That changed recently when a friend from college passed away. We had lost touch, and he had his troubles, but I’m now 45, and he was the only college-era friend I’ve had who died, and it hit me hard.”
Lance Gould, journalist

“The day I found out about the massive earthquake in Haiti. I cried like a baby almost every day. I had to turn off CNN and do my part as a Haitian American and help my country.”
Tertulien Thomas Jr., actor and model

“Sadly, I don’t remember. I didn’t come from a household where men cry. In my youth I thought it was a cool thing; but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to respect men who are in touch enough with their feelings to cry. It’s better than repressing those feelings that bring one to tears.”
David Atchison, writer, producer, and journalist

I cry at emotional moments with my soccer team. So do they.”
Dan Woog, high school soccer coach

Several years after [my three-year-old daughter] Kate died, I went to the funeral for a classmate of mine from West Point, John Lewis. The funeral was in a rural part of Virginia, on sharecroppers’ land, in an old country church. The ceremony was deeply moving and memorable. Nothing like the cold, ritualistic, Catholic funerals I’ve been to before and since. This service was clearly a celebration of John’s life. Every member of John’s family spoke before the congregation about him. Then at least forty more people got up to speak about him. They talked about how they had met John, and what his friendship had meant to them. Everyone participated in the singing. Then one of John’s closest friends played some music videos on a big screen TV. Country and western… John’s favorite, some real melancholy music. I guess it was the combination of the setting, coupled with the music and the sincere, kind words by so many people, but a powerful wave of emotion came over me just then, and I cried more than anyone in the church. John’s sister kept handing me tissues, patting my shoulder to comfort me, and I couldn’t stop the flow of tears.”
John Oliver, entrepreneur (Quoted in “Blindfolded,” The Good Men Project book.)

“I cry sometimes, but never when I play baseball. After all, there’s no crying in baseball. Maybe you can get away with crying in softball. But definitely not baseball.”
Jason Peters, teacher

Occasionally I cry in the safety of a darkened movie theater or while watching TV alone. But I haven’t been able to cry in response to anything in my own life for quite some time. I was an overly sensitive kid. The slightest transgression could send me into hysterics. My father was a gruff, virile man, possessing a Grizzly Adams physique but with a loud, booming voice. He was quick to anger and tended to criticize me for not living up to his concept of masculinity that my older brother seemed to achieve effortlessly. I wasn’t able to be the son he had envisioned, and I retreated further into myself. When puberty hit and the baby fat melted away, I grew into a kind of masculinity I didn’t know was possible for me. I grew taller than my classmates, found solace in the isolation of competitive swimming, and became a star of the team. Still, I was far from what I thought would garner my father’s approval. I let go of the things that interested me most growing up: fashion, celebrity gossip, and pop music, seeing them now as trivial. By the time my grandmother died a few years after I graduated high school I was so closed off I was unable to cry at her funeral. I stood over her open casket, stared numbly down at her clasped hands, trying to shake myself out of this torpor. But I couldn’t will the tears to come. Whatever internal mechanism that used to ignite my emotional core as a child had broken down completely and I had no idea how I was supposed to repair it.
Ryan Berg, restaurant manager and writer

“I cry often, almost every day, or at least I well up or choke back tears. Occasionally it is from despair, but mostly it is from the mere thought of my daughter or the awe and appreciation of something remarkable someone has done by sheer power of brilliance and will.”
John C. Abell, journalist

“I don’t cry as much as I used to, and it upsets me. I think that, maybe, one of the things about manhood is you’re so damn busy trying to either avoid, you know, the subway in New York or the mastodon 30,000 years ago, that there’s no time left to feel like that. But when I wrote The Murder Room, there were parts of the book where I cried. I think our mind—the intellect—can only go so far, and the greatest understanding of other people, and any kind of art, comes from your heart.”
Michael Capuzzo, journalist and author

I don’t cry. I’m not a girl.”
Justin Thompson, middle school student

I cried last weekend. I was doing a seven-mile run on Fire Island from the Pines through Cherry Grove past Sailor’s Haven and into the Sunken Forest. For most of the run I was running either on paved sidewalk through dunes, where it was desolate, or on boardwalks through Sunken Forest. On the way back I came up to a point that I could see across the bay between Fire Island and Long Island, and I said ‘thank you’ out loud. I said ‘thank you’ to the universe, and I cried. I felt so moved, grateful and lucky to be alive and present.”
Corey Johnson, political consultant

“The week before my husband and I got married, I said to myself, ‘No one understands how I’m suffering. I have to take care of everybody else, but no one knows how I feel.’ And the minute I said that, the minute that was in my head, I saw the face of the suffering Christ and I heard, in my imagination, and I felt held. It was very much God saying, ‘I love you. I know how you suffer. I have suffered as you have, and I love you and I’m with you.’ And I felt euphoric. Dried my eyes. I’m like, ‘Screw it! What’s the worst that’s going to happen to me? And when I have this love in my life, what do I care?’” Well, I care, it hurts, but it wasn’t the same.”
Rev. John Finley IV, founder of the Epiphany School

“My son had a serious nerve injury last Christmas, and he was in such extreme pain that I found myself crying almost every day until his pain was successfully treated and he was cured. Nothing hurts so much as watching your child suffer.”
Jim Moret, television anchor

“Watching Marian Anderson sing ‘My Country Tis of Thee’ in front of the Lincoln Memorial in the late 1930s as the closing scene in one of Ken Burns’ PBS shows on our National Parks.”
Jim Matlack, my dad

I cried just the other day while watching an episode of THE CHOIR on BBC-America. The 100 boys in the school choir that Gareth (the choirmaster) had just started went on a field trip to Cambridge to hear the King’s College Choir. When I was a child, I used to sing in church choirs. When I was 50, my 80-year-old father and I went to England and France for two weeks and spent a wonderful day in Cambridge, where we went to the famous chapel where the all-male choir performs. When I saw the beautiful place on my TV screen, I thought, “I’ve been there, I was there with my father,” and just burst into tears. I’m 63 now, and I wanted my father back. It’s not the only time I’ve cried since he died in 2006. All my life I had longed for a closer relationship with him, and I found it on that trip to Europe in 1997. I miss him enormously.”
Michael Lassell, writer

I remember it like it was just last Sunday. Okay, so it was last Sunday. I was packing up and getting ready to leave one of my favorite places in the world. For each of the past twelve years, I have spent the last week of August at a summer camp for gay and lesbian adults in Maine. The camp’s tag line is, “Remember when summer was the best time ever? It still is!”, and you know what, it’s true! Invariably, year after year, at the end of having another ‘best time ever!’ with so many old and new friends, I cry. It’s not the intense chest-pounding cry I might have when a loved one dies or when a relationship abruptly ends. It’s a mix of tears of happiness for the experience, tears born of the noticed connections and friendships, and tears of sadness as the realization that it will be another fifty-one weeks before I’m in the warm embrace of this place, these people, this community. Interestingly, it seems that most of us cry at least once in the last day. I’ve certainly been in situations where I have welled up with potential tears that I didn’t let myself shed, due to pride, discomfort, embarrassment, or social stigma. The funny thing is, I never feel better for having held it in. In fact, I often feel worse. The times I let myself cry, I almost always felt better.”
Phillip Clawson, corporate responsibility consultant

“A few weeks ago watching my 6-year-old son, Connor, graduate from kindergarten. Sitting on the floor of my son’s classroom with other parents, we all watched a video of our kids saying what they loved about their families and when my son said, ‘I love my family because my dad takes me to Giants games.’ I laughed and cried with pride and love.”
Steve Cadigan, human resources executive

“Yesterday, while I was in the shower. Israel Kamakawiwoole’s version of ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World’ came on the stereo, and I tried singing along with it (again) and ended up crying (again). I never get past the line ‘I hear babies cry, and I watch them grow.’ There’s a sweetness and a yearning in Brudda Iz’s voice that just wrecks me.”
Todd Mauldin, bluesman

“I started to cry this morning—thinking about words to describe my father got me smiling and tearful. He has been gone four years, and I miss him.”
Andrew Seibert, magazine executive

“I last cried when my wife showed me the plus sign on her pregnancy test eight months ago. Outwardly, they were tears of joy. Inwardly, they were tears of elation and trepidation. I’m 47 years old. The prospects of having a teenage daughter beginning to seek her own way in the world when I am ready to retire and finish off my bucket list is daunting at this point.”
Randy Strauss, emergency medical technician

“It is getting very cold. I spend every workday in the South End [of Boston] with Peter, surveying apartments. We go into the top-floor apartment thinking there’s structural failure. While I try to imagine how we’re going to fix this building, Peter stands still in the middle of the room, then flings open the door of the living room closet. Cowering inside are two little boys. The older one—he’s maybe five—is clamping his hand over the younger one’s mouth, trying to silence his crying. They are both filthy, with snotty, crusted noses. Peter gently takes the little boy into his arms, fishes out a handkerchief, and wipes his face. ‘Call social services,’ Peter says. A woman tells me someone will be there in half an hour. We sit down on a battered couch with the kids, the baby in my lap, the five-year-old in Peter’s. Both the children fall asleep, exhausted from crying. It feels so familiar to have a warm child in my arms, sleeping peacefully.

In the apartment, the baby’s face is pushed into my chest, soaking it with drool. When the social services woman arrives, the baby wakes with a start and looks up at me. His eyes are big; he’s afraid. I feel as though I’m handing over my own son.

The woman departs, the children crying all the way down the stairs. I’m still sitting on the couch, looking at the wet spot on my shirt where the baby’s head had just been. ‘What is happening to this world?’ Peter says. ‘These little babies left alone. And you can’t blame the woman. Her husband’s gone, left her alone. She’s got to get a job, feed those hungry mouths.’

I close my eyes tight. My breath comes in ragged gasps.

‘Hey, you okay, man?’ Peter walks over and touches my shoulder. ‘These things happen. You gotta let it go.’ When I open my eyes, they are filled with tears.

I remember the first morning in the hospital after my son was born. Cradling him, I looked out at the city and whispered, ‘Baby, I’m your father, and I will always take care of you.’”
Amin Ahmad, architect and author. (Quoted in “Structural Failure,” The Good Men Project book.)

 

Author’s Note:  This piece was originally published on GMP February 9, 2012

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About Tom Matlack

Tom Matlack is the co-founder of The Good Men Project. He has a 18-year-old daughter and 16- and 7-year-old sons. His wife, Elena, is the love of his life. Follow him on Twitter @TMatlack.

Comments

  1. Jack Varnell says:

    Crying is good. I do it a lot. I must confess the video in this post gets me every time… :
    http://goodmenproject.com/good-feed-blog/late-night-minutes-with-eliot-jason-and-oden/

  2. I went for quite a long time without crying…not because I repressed anything, I just think emotionally I wasn’t mature enough. I’m not even sure if that makes any sense…anyway, the first time in a long time that I cried was when I separated from my wife in 2010. I was in Halifax and went for a walk in a park. I felt like crying, but it wasn’t coming…so I focused on memories, sat on a bench, then started to cry. People approached so I stopped myself (why?). I went home and sat on my bed, then they really started to flow, I buried my head in my hands and bawled, I felt the hot tears streaming down my face onto the floor. Then I looked up and saw blood everywhere. My nose had started bleeding. It was on the floor, on the bed, on my clothes. I was a mess. I went to the bathroom and laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Since then I feel like my emotions ride closer to the surface and I am very open about crying; mostly these days I tear up at the sight of beautiful things, especially people being good to other people. That really gets me.

    Also, every time I watch this video shed a few tears…not of sadness, but of hope: http://confrontinglove.com/2011/01/27/how-to-be-alone-video/

    Crying feels good. I wish that more men were able to be more vulnerable and not see it as a “weakness.” It’s quite the opposite. It takes a brave man to cry openly in the face of ridicule and non-acceptance.

  3. Crying doesn’t do much for me. It’s an involuntary response to extreme circumstances outside of my control. It doesn’t make me feel any better because it’s never changed the reason for my tears.

    The last time I cried was when my youngest child was killed in an accident. Not sure if anything is harder than losing a child.

  4. Surely you’ve cried more than once? There things that over 10 years ago that still get to me.

  5. PS I shouldn’t type while drunk

  6. Crying is a sign of helplessness. I hate tears.

  7. prometheus1666 says:

    My top 5 times when I cried.. in no particular order

    1. At my wedding, when at 38 I married my girlfriend of 5 years.. in 2004
    2. Buying a house:)
    3. Losing our house:(
    4. Finding out my wife was cheating on me with guys half her age:(
    5. Finally learning to live my life on my terms and values, never looking back except to learn from things.

  8. Watching my dad die over 6 weeks, then watching my brother try to resuscitate him whilst I call the ambulance and then having to help make the decision to turn off his life support due to being brain dead. The song at his funeral always makes me cry.

    For quite a while I went totally numb, blocked it out, I would get so sad at times yet unable to produce tears and the frustration of crying without crying really got to me. Then a few years later I get the dreams every night of him and bam the ability to cry comes back and with a vengeance.

    Heartbreak was one of the toughest things to go through as well, quite a few days of crying with that. But mostly these days movie scores (Dragonheart = instant tears), sad or powerful scenes in movies (Life as a house, cried heaps in that) are usually the only things that make me cry. I cry pretty often in movies actually, sometimes because the scene/act is so sad and sometimes because it’s beyond happy, beautiful, the mix of music and the restoration of my empathy means I can feel what the characters are meant to feel at times. Quite frankly some of the most beautiful moments in my life brought me to tears, even great movies can bring those tears of joy and they really are spectacular.

    It took a while but to finally get in “touch” with my feelings properly made me appreciate crying, men should not fear it but embrace it because it’s a very much needed emotion.

  9. I was 20, my life long bestfriend’s drug habit had gotten out of control. There was an intervention, his mom, dad, older brother, grandfather were also there.

    We awaited in the living room, while his mother woke him up.

    The man who shambled out of that bedroom was not my best friend. But a hollow shell of the friend I once had. He looked malnourished, his face gaunt, and his eyes were mean.

    We all took our time, and spoke our piece. In the end he chose to reject treatment, and to embrace homelessness, and hard-drugs. I sat on the porch, while his mother cried her eyes into my shoulder, and his brother placed his hand on her, he was also crying.

    I went home. I had a tiny pinch of weed left from my stash. I didn’t buy often, and smoked only casually. But I told myself that it was over – I took that last pinch, loaded one last bowl, smoked it, and cried my fucking eyes out.

  10. Thank you for posting about this difficult topic….my ex cried for the first time when he finally opened up about his past…he cried when he told me about his teenage (17 yo) sister who had died in a car accident (which had happened when he was about 19 yo and riding in a car behind hers)….he said he never cried at her funeral (which occurred 2 decades previously)…he came from a chilly, rigid Catholic family and no one ever really talked about her afterwards….he held that in and never talked about her with anyone else until he became close with me…

    He was wrapped in a blanket and started tearing up and and his lower lip trembled when he talked about her…at first he tried to tell me that he had forgotten her name…I guess he had tried to blot her out of his memory…but how can you really? I was really shocked and unprepared for what he was telling me (I was just in college at the time)….I tried to just be quiet and just listen…and how terrible and lonesome it is to listen to a grown man cry….I was so way in over my head…his grief was like a tidal wave….I stayed in that relationship hoping to make him feel better about his loss…but you can never make up for someone’s past losses, can you?

  11. My mom told me recently that there are two things that make my dad cry when he’s reading the newspaper – stories about soldiers and their sacrifices, and stories about dogs. He’s always been a dog lover, but the soldier thing surprised me. I’ve never thought of my father as being particularly patriotic. He was never in the service and he’s always been very private about his political opinions and how he votes; he flies an American flag in the front yard, but that’s pretty much the only outward expression of nationalism I can think of.

    I made it through my wedding ceremony without shedding a tear, until I was in the receiving line and saw my younger brother’s face crumpled in tears (but smiling). That did me in, instantly.

    A memory of my husband crying – the summer before we got married after a long engagement, we had “the fight that wasn’t a fight,” a breakdown, questioning all the reasons we were getting married and if we were really sure it was the right thing to do, airing out our doubts and fears. Never attacking or criticizing each other, no voices raised. Just very intensely emotional on both sides. It lasted for the better part of the day. Usually I am the one crying uncontrollably when we get into a disagreement or fight; I remember my surprise at seeing him cry in that instance.

  12. It seems hollow to mention movies making one emotional (because I fear people might assume that this is the only time I have creid; which it isn’t) BUT

    Lonesome Dove. The book is great but the series/movie was excellent, such great performances. The score is killer: music that embodies the great american west and all the hope, triumph, tragedy, and sacrifice therein. As a rodeo cowboy and a rancher this film tugs at me in so many ways. You can watch the whole thing on youtube starting with Part one episode one:

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtdMKEh_2vk

  13. I cried watching the Cronicles of Narnia, when Aslam appeared to the kids, speaking with that deep, powerfull yet nurturing voice.

  14. Last time I cried was probably a few days ago at a song or movie (they have a way of opening me up).

    However the last time I REALLY cried for a real world event that just broke me was the death to cancer of my 9 year old cousin a just before Christmas 2010.

    It took till a few days later at work for me to feel anything other than numb and just break down.

  15. frankie says:

    The last time I cried was when I found my mother unconscious on the sofa after taking an overdose. I sobbed while on the phone to emergency services, but as soon as the paramedics arrived and I had to call my family I stopped. That was over two years ago. I resented the fact I couldn’t cry when my dog died. Sometimes I have intense dreams or nightmares where all I do in inexhaustibly cry, but that’s as close as I’ve got and might ever get.

  16. I get tears all of the time (like as recently as a half hour ago), but I feel real crying drains me, and I don’t seem to feel better for it.

  17. lemonsucker says:

    I cry when I’m sleep deprived. For some reason, lack of sleep causes me to think about everything, and I mean EVERYTHING negative in my life, and in the world, that I cant change. It falls on me like an avalanche and I get this overwhelming sense of utter helplessness. I wouldn’t call it a good cry either, as I don’t feel like anything’s released. More like just an emotional breakdown. A friend of mine says it’s because i don’t cry otherwise, and because i generally don’t show emotion. I’ve been told by past girlfriends that I keep things bottled in too much…

    Marijuana helps a lot, and sex. Unfortunately I’m running dangerously low on the latter right now.

  18. The last time I cried was last night. I have many reasons to cry actually. My father got murdered this summer, my mom’s addicted to pot which up upsets me to, no one really wants to be my friend, I am on my freshman year of high school and like 5’3, the law is trying to take me away and put me in a foster home or if my grandma wants me (she doesn’t) I will live with her. My father didn’t want me even before he died. I never talk to anyone about it or I will lose it. The only person that saw me cry besides my parents when I was a kid and the police officers and doctors and stuff like of friends was this one girl named Jennifer. I met her right after my dad died. I love her but she moved. My mom doesn’t make money cause she’s always high so we are barely making it in a mobile home and I am failing school because I don’t have time to do my homework and projects because I work after school so I could support my mom and I and I do all the house work and bills. I do good on test and stuff though. I try to cry at night in bed as quite as I can.

  19. NoNamerVet says:

    A couple days ago. This month was supposed to be the month I became a father for the first time, sadly my ex decided to abort. Before being put in those shoes I never expected something like this to happen to me let alone bother me. I’ve probably thought about it everyday since it happened, I’ll probably never forgive her.

  20. i think men are so hard on themselves that one will never actually get to see them crying…

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