Colin Berry makes the case for men to drop the surface-level chatter and have real conversations instead.
—
It was a few weeks ago, at a backyard BBQ, with folks standing around with plates of pasta and cold beers in cups, that I ran into Ian. He’s the spouse of one of my wife’s friends, and I hadn’t talked to him for more than a year.
“Hey, great to see you,” he said, when we met. “How’s it going?”
“Good and bad,” I said, which was true. “How about you?”
For the next half hour, it was the last real thing either of us said to each other. The rest of the time Ian did the talking and I just nodded, saying “mmm-hmm” or “Wow!” or “Really?” and taking bigger and bigger bites of my noodles. As I chewed, Ian told me in detail about his work, his health insurance, the bedroom in his house he’s converting to an office, his car, his recent trip to Vegas, and his efforts to track down one of his high school buddies, which, from his description of it, seemed to be going well. At 30 minutes I had to bail; had I stuck it out, Ian likely would have covered his workouts, his iPhone apps, and his latest purchases on eBay.
In other words, the two of us—or Ian, at least—had a typical male conversation.
I don’t begrudge him. It’s not Ian’s fault most men prefer to skim the surface instead of plunging into real dialogue. We were taught it by our dads, who learned it from their dads, all the way back to Cro-Mags, probably, convinced we’re connecting when we’re actually doing nothing of the sort. Sports stats, business data, movie trivia, politics, tech talk, home improvement tips, the Exact Name of That Nick Drake Song From His First Album—it’s a way to talk in detail without actually saying anything. For a certain man, it’s the only way he can feel engaged, and he’s perfectly willing to burrow with another man into this comfortable, data-filled thicket, blissfully free from any depth or emotion.
But it isn’t the only way to converse, and when I encounter it these days, I want to stab my eyes out with a plastic fork.
Instead, I propose this: Let’s talk about actual stuff, guys. Let’s get real. No more surface-level BS. No more missing a chance to authentically connect with another man.
Getting real in conversation allows me the chance to genuinely learn what’s going on for the man (and to offer him support when I do), as well as for him to hear my truth about what’s happening for me (and to give me support around it when he does). It’s an opportunity for in-depth connection between men, not a pissing contest over who knows more about some topic or who’s got the coolest stuff.
I’ve seen firsthand how heartfelt connection can be the glue that bonds men together. In my men’s group, our around-the-circle check-in—the first thing we do when we meet—is an incredibly uncommon moment in my life: the chance to hear, from the source, exactly where each person in the room is, emotionally and physically. It’s not a time to fix him or give him advice, but simply to be present with him in his truth. That’s it. It’s powerful and rare and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. And as I go about my life, more and more I crave this kind of authentic interaction with other men.
Let me give you an example. I met my friend Josh for Indian food the other night. I know Josh and his new wife are going through some tough times lately, and within a minute or two of sitting down, I asked him about it. Josh was honest—his emotions were fearful and hopeful—and he offered some details. They’re trying a new therapist, he said; things feel like they’re unraveling, but he also has a hunch it’s getting them somewhere. He explained that he’d had some insights about his mom and about his first wife. Between bites of dal, Josh talked about his experience and I supported him with what I knew about my own marriage. It wasn’t super complicated, but it was real. We genuinely connected, and by the time the check came, we could both feel our friendship deepening.
Did we dip into trivial matters? Hell, yes. Personal finances, his job, his daughter’s choice of colleges, a music video we both knew from the 1990’s—we’re guys, after all. But each time we came back to the heartfelt stuff, the stuff that lay at the center of ourselves, the real stuff. Two men, emotionally present for each other, who actually care about what’s happening in each other’s lives.
Conversing like this isn’t easy—not at first. The other man may not be comfortable “going there,” and he shouldn’t be judged for it. (That may have been the case with Ian.) The first man’s ‘getting real’—telling some truth about himself he wouldn’t normally reveal in another conversation—might give the first man permission to do the same. I suggest giving it a try. Or not; he might not be in the mood to go there. It’s his choice.
The key is listening, a skill the world is in desperate need of these days. If both parties do it 80 percent of the time, it’s more likely they’ll discover things that really matter about each other. (I know that math is wrong, but you get the idea.)
All of which comes back to my non-conversation with Ian. I definitely listened—and yet maybe I should have spoken up. Why didn’t I take a risk with him? Instead of standing there, chewing my food, why didn’t I reveal something deeper to him that might have given us an opportunity to genuinely connect? In my case, other old patterns were at work: my people-pleaser, my don’t-rock-the-boat guy, my tendency to let others’ needs outweigh my own. As a man, I have my own issues. But I am evolving, and the next time I meet Ian or a man like him at a BBQ, I’m going to take a risk—and the payoff might be a singular and powerful connection between two conversing men.
Read more from Men’s Work
Image Credit: Ben Atmer/Flickr
Collin, Thanks for your article. It speaks to my experience as well. I grew up in a working class family surrounded by mostly men. While I am very close with my cousins, brothers, and uncles I never really felt like we dealt with issues I know were occurring. About 6 years ago I started a “men’s group” in response to being told “so what” when I tried to express how limiting men’s gender socialization is in one of my phd classes in counseling psychology. When I began to talk with my friends and classmates I began to realize a much… Read more »
But Ian was keeping it real, talking about things that matter to him. Don’t get me wrong, the way men avoid the emotional side of life is limiting, but you could have shifted the conversation towards your preferred area at any time if you’d been willing to risk it. Was it Ian that failed to go deeper or was it you? The person with the greater capacity is the person with the greater responsibility. You could have offered him an opportunity and maybe discovered that he was waiting for someone to lead the way. Friendships are formed by small offers… Read more »
>>The person with the greater capacity is the person with the greater responsibility. That was the smartest thing I read all day. Sorry that the piece came off as berating men — I think men are awesome. I also believe I learned a lot from writing it, which is that it’s up to me to ask for what I want and in Ian’s case, I didn’t. My loss. But I to believe men can connect more deeply with only a small amount of effort. And I don’t want to weigh in about the gender differences in conversational styles; that’s a… Read more »
Hi Jen, Part of this might be generational: my dad and his buddies *always* talk on the surface, whereas most of the younger men I interact with are more likely to go deep. I think it’s changing. (The younger men are also more likely to support gay rights, hug each other in public, and recycle their Starbucks cups.) I also think for most people, a confidante is a confidante: gender doesn’t really matter if it’s someone I feel comfortable being real with. The one thing I will say, from my experience, is that sometimes men with an agenda — i.e.,… Read more »
Colin – This was very interesting to me as a female; I think some would say women get more personal in their friendships, but I am not positive that is the truth. I believe, in general, all people need this greater depth that you are suggesting, because all people have the need for real “contact.” I find these days my closest relationships are with men, in fact 2 former relationships that grew into deep friendships as the time went on. One is married, the other a fairly reclusive loner. The guy who is marrieds can’t reveal our friendship to his… Read more »
Hi Jen,
Thanks for sharing your compassionate and positive story of the men in your life. you sound like a good friend, and we need more women who are willing to tell the story of how men are human beings too.
“Ian told me in detail about his work, his health insurance, the bedroom in his house he’s converting to an office, his car, his recent trip to Vegas, and his efforts to track down one of his high school buddies, which, from his description of it, seemed to be going well”. “Did we dip into trivial matters? Hell, yes. Personal finances, his job, his daughter’s choice of colleges” Why do you assume the above is trivial? Those sorts of things certainly aren’t to me. You may not want to hear about my gym workouts, but for me, those workouts make… Read more »
Thanks, Pete. I hear you. I think in this case I was either worn down by that point or prejudiced because I knew the man and (pre)judged he would talk about stuff that bored me. This is my experience; I am SO much less interested in what’s on a man’s to-do list than what’s in a man’s heart. That’s what fuels my connection. AND I understand YMMV.
Thanks for weighing in.
Colin
So why do you think Ian was so superficial in his conversation? “He’s the spouse of one of my wife’s friends” .. there you have it. Not exactly the venue for any in depth conversation. I’ve attended events where I hardly knew the people, I dread spending any lengthy period of time with my daughters in-laws. We have absolutely nothing in common so any conversation I have with them will be very superficial. In fact we’ve been invited to their lake house for a long weekend and I’m trying to figure out how I can get out of it. He’s… Read more »
Tom, I appreciate the comment. That’s been my experience, too. But I’m actively pushing against [being siloed], with my wife in our social scene. I watched my dad play the mousy husband, a generation ago, and I am determined to enter into social situations to connect with people — the women are easier than the men, in my experience, but I’m determined to try to (lovingly) crack men open. I think what I learned from attending the party (and from writing this piece) is that taking risks for me pays off. When I sit back and judge, as I did… Read more »
I just read the other comments, you are really copping it over this one and I appreciate your willingness to admit that you might have responded better. I wrote my other comment before I’d seen this one, so I apologise if it comes over as too harsh.