Male friendships are admittedly hard to come by. While us men have no shortage of male acquaintances, coworkers and the generic ‘I-got-a-guy’ for that job in our circle, few are truly ones we’d classify as real and genuine friends. We’re all social animals and it’s not weird to seek platonic friendships and it’s probably on the other guy’s mind anyway. Modern men are still socialized to be the provider but decreasingly so, asking for help still feels like an expression of neediness and inadequacy. Couple this with our general impatient proclivity to tinker and fix things for immediate effect on our own versus the drawn-out approach of incremental collaboration and that’s probably why more of us don’t reach out to one another. So why is there such inertia to overcome? It’s probably because the way men define friendship: friendship isn’t made my men, it happens to men.

Deep friendships for men tend to be created through intense common experiences rather than situational circumstances. Borrowing a chainsaw from a neighbor may require investments in idle chitchat, but real camaraderie was a bond made years ago. Like outbiking the cop wanting to chase you off private property or in more modern times, fighting in military service. The more exhilarating or even near-death-experience (NDE) the situation, the tighter the bond. In short, for all our blacksmithing knowhow, our friendships aren’t made, they are forged.

For most of us who have known little hardship, the modern day NDE is the lack of sleep from childrearing. Quite remarkably, dad-clubs were formed out of necessity of making sense of raising miniature humans and in my case, divorced and raising a girl. I found common bonds with other men over this life changing event. This entire blog was born out of that experience.

 

Why such inertia to overcome? It’s probably because the way men define friendship. For all our blacksmithing knowhow, our friendships aren’t made, they are forged.

 

While I am fortunate enough to have just a handful of friends from my childhood, high school and university days, I make time for them as much as my own father’s drinking club. And while we are all adults and now have real responsibilities, we must be patient and understanding that not everyone can align their calendars all the time. Dads are little battleships; we can do a lot, but we need time to change directions.

Here are some things to consider. Make time and show up. I have a dad-friend who has failed to show up nine times out of ten. He’s not reliable and his words does get ignored. He doesn’t realize that while he’s missing us, we also miss him. He has much to share and we are all poorer for not having his company. For those of us who gather, we commiserate and quickly rediscover common ground to build a stronger support system for ourselves. In short, we don’t just do the time, we do the work. Albeit, our dad group was founded on the premise of our new role, there are many things I still don’t know about these men. The opportunity to go deeper may not present itself in the group setting and it may not be relevant to the situation that brought us men together in the first place. But I am richer for knowing increasingly revealing aspects of their personality when we tell old stories from our past. For some of these dad friends, we’ve already grown apart. For others, I’m still surprised that a decade later as our children are in middle and high schools, I’m still sharing sudsy brews with them. Or maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Fatherhood has definitely changed me and I’m sure these men’s children have changed them, also. I’m not the same person I was a decade ago. I probably won’t be the same man a decade hence. But it’s nice to know that as I make new friends in new circumstances, I can still lean on my childhood, high school, uni and now my dad friends.