From Boys to Men to Friends
There are friendships like circuses, waterfalls, libraries; there are others comparable to old dressing gowns. —Vladimir Nabokov
There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship. —Thomas Aquinas
Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood. —George Orwell
Above: Life is more poker than chess, except with friends no one goes bust.
It’s become somewhat of a cliché to say that we exist in simultaneously the most connected—though loneliest—time in history.
And yet, clichés become clichés because they contain some fundamental truth; frequent repetition does not mitigate or undermine a claim’s validity.
Though unsparing in its reach, the hell that is seclusion seems to weigh more heavily on men than it does women.
The simple, sad fact is that men the world over are terribly lonely and are suffering because of it.
Some have gone so far as to label this phenomenon an epidemic.
No matter what you call it, it is alarming. Per Equimundo’s 2023 State of American Men Report:
Two-thirds of men aged 18 to 23 said they felt that “no one really knows me.”
A whopping 44% of men reported having had thoughts of suicide over the past two weeks.
15% percent of men today say they have no close friendships, a fivefold increase since 1990.
Friendship is the oxygen of joy—without it life is just existence; all death and taxes, no wonder, merriment, joy.
Something’s got to give.
Friendship is a quirky, idiosyncratic thing.
Though understood by all, it is hard to describe, pin down, neatly bucket—you just know it when you see it.
It contains multitudes: it is fun, fickle, funny, fundamental.
It seems simple, but a lot of work goes into it.
Like the ocean, it is both shallow and deep, smooth and tempestuous, pure and polluted, refreshing and salty, at times placid and dangerous.
Like a career, it often follows a long, meandering path—looking backwards, it all makes sense, but seldom does in the moment or just up ahead.
Like Hemingway’s description of bankruptcy, it happens “gradually and then suddenly.”
Quotes from C.S. Lewis and C. Raymond Beran, respectively, describe it masterfully:
Friendship arises out of mere Companionship when two or more of the companions discover that they have in common some insight or interest or even taste which the others do not share and which, till that moment, each believed to be his own unique treasure (or burden). The typical expression of opening Friendship would be something like, "What? You too? I thought I was the only one."
It is when two such persons discover one another, when, whether with immense difficulties and semi-articulate fumblings or with what would seem to us amazing and elliptical speed, they share their vision - it is then that Friendship is born. And instantly they stand together in an immense solitude.
What is a friend? I will tell you.
It is a person with whom you dare to be yourself. Your soul can be naked with him. He seems to ask of you to put on nothing, only to be what you are. He does not want you to be better, or worse. When you are with him, you feel as a prisoner feels who has been declared innocent. You do not have to be on your guard. You can say what you think, so long as it is genuinely you. He understands those contradictions in your nature that lead others to misjudge you.
With him you breathe freely. You can avow your little vanities and envies and hates and vicious sparks, your meannesses and absurdities and, in opening them up to him, they are lost, dissolved on the white ocean of his loyalty. He understands. You do not have to be careful. You can abuse him, neglect him, tolerate him. Best of all, you can keep still with him. It makes no matter. He likes you. He is like fire that purges to the bone. He understands. He understands. You can weep with him, sin with him, laugh with him, pray with him. Through it all—and underneath—he sees, knows and loves you.
A friend? What is a friend? Just one, I repeat, with whom you dare to be yourself.
If friendship is addition, male friendship is linear algebra: much less intuitive and orders of magnitude more complicated. It is a strange equation made up of aggression, degradation, hostility, loyalty, competition, and love.
This graph from thinker-cum-tinkerer-cum-writer Tim Urban of Wait But Why got me thinking: We oftentimes take for granted that that we have friends, not how we got them.
We fail to reflect on the inchoate journey that ferried us towards the nirvana that is Q1; how our friendship evolved from nascent uncertainty to secure, hearty goodness.
Like many things, I think there are phases to it.
What follows is a rudimentary framework hashed out over many cold drinks with two men I am proud to call friends: David and Karl.
It is not a linear progression, indeed the time spent in each phase may vary (hours, days, months, even years). More, one can double back and slide from phase to phase.
The Four Phases of Male Friendship
Strangers
Interactions here are marked by a thin layer of civility, akin to boxers feeling one another out. Men, like bats with echolocation, send out signals to gauge the other's reactions, treading carefully on a fragile skin of civility. The caution here is not to break through into unmasked hostility, to maintain a respectful distance and angle of dialogue.
Acquaintances
This is the inflection point, where the transition from acquaintance to companion to friend really begins. It involves the gamble of jest, joke, and tease. It's an intermediate, narrow stage – not quite real, both hesitant and confident. Men test each other’s tolerance for light-hearted insults as a measure of safety, allowing them to be more themselves. The goal is to permeate the membrane of mere acquaintance with light-hearted, benevolent degradation, feeling out the other's response to humor and banter.
Companions
Here, initial civility gives way to more genuine exchange that is both light and solid. Men oscillate between strength and vulnerability, where teasing and fun become much more prominent. It’s a routine to understand each other better, marked by give-and-take, where masks and gloves come off, allowing for true camaraderie and deep conversation. It’s about poking fun without poking the bear and resembles a delicate dance that relies upon the right move at the right time in the right order.
Friends
As friends, civility is no longer necessary and true honesty enters the forefront. Aggression, a natural part of masculinity, disperses evenly, no longer trapped under a facade. Natural hostility, once a danger, now reveals its shallowness in the face of true brotherhood. Men can express themselves freely at this perfect, homeostatic intersection between deep trust and kind understanding frustration. Here, sincere camaraderie kindles sustainable, honest, sometimes lifelong connection.
American novelist Louis L'Amour once remarked that “Sometimes the most important things in a man's life are the ones he talks about least.”
To me, this includes friendship.
We ought talk about it in order to understand it.
By understanding it, we begin to appreciate it and learn not to take it for granted.
The above notwithstanding, at the end of the day, what matters is not how, but that it happened. Hold you friends close and tell them you love them.
As modern poets Counting Crows croon, “You don’t know what you got till it’s gone.”
I leave you with the wise words of author Bianca Sparacino:
When you’re young, you believe that there will be many people with whom you’ll connect with deeply. Later in life, you come to realize that it only happens a few times. A few moments, frozen in genuine beauty, where you look at someone and you know, from a place deep within yourself, that they are going to mean something to you, that they are rare.
When it comes to this kind of connection, it’s important to understand that energy cannot be created or destroyed — that is a scientific fact. If the depth is there, it cannot be denied, cannot slip through your fingers, cannot be something you successfully run away from due to fear of exposure or battle wounds. You can try to dismiss it, can try to stay protected and hidden from the warmth, but your hiding spot is never watertight — it always catches up to you.
And if it’s not meant to fit within the soul of you, if it’s simply not your love to hold, no amount of bargaining with your heart will anchor it. That is the beauty of discovering the things that stay, the things that fall into place. In a world of billions, in a world where we are all seeking connection but avoiding eye contact, there are remarkable points of impact where you manage to crash yourself into someone who ends up breaking through the exterior. Someone who makes contact with your heart, who grows roots within it. Together, you beat the odds.
If you have found human beings like this, I hope you protect them. I hope you risk your heart for what you feel. I hope you believe that you are worthy of something full, and pointed and real. I hope you never settle for less, because certain people are truly just rare, beautiful drops of borrowed light that find their way to you. You don't feel alien with them. The otherness never arrives. There isn't a version of yourself you have to shed in order to feel connected to them. They see you clearly. You are held there. You are chosen there. Love becomes a safe place to rest your head. A place without artifice, or armour. There are no hiding spots. Everything is unguarded, and unvarnished, and there is freedom in that kind of openness, in that kind of vulnerability.
I promise it’s worth fighting for.