International Men’s Day

Every International Men’s Day, men across the world come together in a sacred ritual: forgetting it exists.

It is not entirely their fault.

Today, we raise a lukewarm beverage to us guys, creatures genetically programmed to fix anything from a carburetor to a world crisis, yet utterly bewildered by the simple request, "can we talk?"

We are the masters of the stiff upper lip, which, upon closer inspection, is usually dry and cracked because we forgot to drink water. Or because a lip balm is for pansies. Our stoicism is legendary: we will walk around for three days with a splinter the size of a carrot, rather than admit to another human that something is minorly wrong.

Why suffer in silence? Because talking about feelings is a known gateway drug to... well, feeling things. And nobody has time for that!

Men are curious creatures. We suffer in silence like it is a combat sport, clutching emotional wounds the way we clutch TV remotes: stubbornly, pointlessly, proudly. We carry those heavy burdens, lest we accidentally solve the problem and have nothing left to angst about! Ask a man to express tenderness and he will suddenly develop the vocabulary skills of a turnip. “I, uh… you know… yeah.” Shakespeare would weep.

Tenderness is strictly reserved for dogs and vintage vinyl. Or a new car.

Our spiritual guide is, naturally, James Bond. We assume our women are simply waiting for us to dramatically rappel into the kitchen to make dinner, using only a napkin and a toothpick. Then, when faced with a fully functional adult female who possesses opinions, we scratch our heads and exclaim, "Women! A riddle wrapped in an outfit I don't quite get." Meanwhile, the actual answers to life's profound questions, like where the spare keys are, are usually sitting right next to us, while we search the fridge for inspiration.

The joke is on us, really. We spend so much energy trying to be the movie hero that, we forget the truly heroic acts are the boring ones: booking the dentist, expressing a genuine emotion, and acknowledging that vulnerability won't actually cause an earth quake.

So, this International Men's Day, let’s check in the real hero. A real man isn't defined by his ability to punch through a brick wall; he is defined by his willingness to hug his friends, call his doctor, and apologize when he is wrong. Real men aren't bulletproof; they are the ones who apologize without being prompted, and realize the deepest strength isn't in never being vulnerable, but in choosing to be it anyway. In the raw feelings they unpack.

So, give a shit. Text your buddy. Perhaps schedule that doctor's appointment. Call your love.

Or get out, and live a little.