“It’s wire. It’s a spool of wire. And…I’m almost out of it.”
If you haven’t seen this Instagram video, I’ve linked it here and you can watch it. The man is sitting outside holding a spool of wire that he’s had for forty years, and it’s almost finished. It’s a poignant, profound moment. I also got teary-eyed just thinking about what that spool of wire represents, and I don’t even know this gentleman.
His wife (I’m assuming) cracks a comment about how he’s wearing his Jets hat. You can actually see this man’s heart breaking, that tender vulnerability he had opened up slamming shut like an iron grate, and he gets up and leaves.
Another Insta video, a young guy has sparkles in his eyes and the sweetest, joyful grin as he attempts to show his girlfriend his milkshake moustache. She tells him “You’re not 10 years old, babe. That’s so cringey”. The joy dies in his eyes like someone emptied a bucket of water over a campfire. (I know that video was probably made for views and trends and not exploring deep social issues but it makes a good point.)
Or, real life – Rusty finally allows the one woman (coworker at the factory) he trusts, to see the marks on his arm. Just one. The lady that always checks in on him, that to him feels like a close, dear friend. The next day he is accused of showing “everyone” his arm – because she couldn’t wait to run and tell. She took that fragile bit of trust and drop-kicked it across the factory yard.
3 Moments, Shot down in flames
The wire spool man has had that roll of wire for 40 years. Can you imagine the things he’s done with it? All the moments created by his handiwork, all the things built and fixed, and some probably still held together? Forty years of life, and work, and care, symbolized by that spool of wire. There’s probably several more POVs to explore but my word count is limited. He’s nearing the end of the wire. It’s sentimental, it’s poignant, it’s devastatingly beautiful. Here’s a big, strong man tenderly holding a spool of wire with tears in his dark eyes and that sweet hopefulness on his face.
Jets hat. Really??
He’s immediately done and walks away and I can literally feel his heartache in my own chest.
The proud milkshake moustache, the eagerness on his face. He’s a young man, he’s excited and goofy and silly because he’s relaxed and he found it funny and he wanted to share it with the girl he loves because – well, isn’t that what you do?
I can just imagine the eyeroll on the other side of the camera.
I can also imagine the comment section flooded with people defending her, how hard she tried to reach out to him and “fix it” and he remained silent and withdrawn.
I don’t blame him, sorry. And I’m pretty sure that in most cases where this happens in real life, not a scripted Insta reel, the woman rarely, if ever, acknowledges that moment and attempts to address that moment.
The office auntie – same thing. Rusty called her out on it. I mean, it’s not rocket science. He showed 1 person. The next day the entire factory is simmering. Who told? We know who told. And she denied it, vehemently. Instead climbed into him about other things (classic reversal). Refuses to talk to him. All he wanted was a friend. Some support in the darkest moment of his life.
But no, ego, gossip, inconvenience, cringe, “don’t be a baby” is more important.
It’s the same pattern, over and over. A man risks opening up and showing his emotions. A woman shuts it down. And he never speaks again.
Why Are Women So Fast On The Flamethrowers
She feels embarrassed – his tears, his raw emotion makes her look awkward. It goes back to “what will the people say”. It’s embarrassing (here’s a question: why exactly??) so a joke or sarcastic shutdown provides a fast exit.
She wants to be in control. She has to decide what’s cute or funny. She sets the tone – and of course, the tone has to be in keeping with what her subscribers online think is cool, and has to fit the current trend she’s chasing. (There’s so much to unpack there…) His joy outside of that is messy and embarrassing because it detracts from the image she’s trying to uphold. So – shutdown. “Ugh, so cringe”. Eyeroll.
She’s “emotionally full”. To which I say learn better management, love. Work, kids, own stresses – we all have those. It doesn't make her a martyr. But adding one more emotion to the load is an overload, so a deflection or a shutdown is simpler. Sure, short term. But the long term effect is devastating.
And of course, cultural training where women are raised to believe that men are “tough guys” with no feelings or ridiculously superficial feelings, is not helpful either. Women have so little sense actually, of the true depth men are capable of – because men have been taught for centuries to not express it.
The more I talk to men the more I find entire, unexplored worlds of the vastest, most unimaginable beauty – and there’s a female dragon gatekeeping the emotional gentleness and locking it inside.
Frying His Brain
Have you ever held a blowtorch on some jelly?
Dopamine is the reward hormone. You get dopamine from joy. But when you’re shut down when expressing joy, dopamine stops giving you a reward. So after a few tries (and it’s fewer than you think) the brain physically stops trying. The woman has managed to literally fry the reward circuit.
Cortisol spikes with every new barb. Every time she opens her mouth. Stress piles up. Once again, fewer times than you think, repeated hits like that results in : chronic stress. Here we go, expensive doctor’s bills and medication.
The amygdala has learned that to show feelings equals rejection. So future joy is blocked before it’s even begun and he is now actively looking for the next “danger”, i.e. the next criticism, shut down, “cringe”. He is walking on egg shells and defensive. He doesn’t trust. He doesn’t feel safe.
Loss of sleep. Appetite changes. Mood swings. Blood pressure issues. Gut issues. Anhedonia. Sound familiar yet?
Here are some figures: 71% of men say partners kill joy first (mental health studies) and 82% of men never disclose depression after one shutdown.
And do not come with “oh he should just get over it”.
Culture Puts The Flamethrower In Her Hands
Our society is reading from a very outdated “strong man” script. If I find it, I will set fire to it. This script insists that men are providers. They’re strong, stoic, stern stone statues.
They’re not allowed to be playful, that doesn’t fit the image. Tears or being goofy is “weak”. It doesn’t go with the vibe.
Women are taught to be emotional police. They have to “keep things together”. And I’m not saying women don’t have issues. But women have a higher capacity of dealing with the issues so his emotions feeling like “extra work” is a bullshit excuse made up by a toxic culture and women refusing to face themselves.
Add to this stew social media culture, mocking “cringe” moments and attacking anything that’s real, raw or vulnerable, and it becomes a cesspit. And I’m sorry girls but y’all know you do it – you repeat this nonsense to fit in and be cool so that you don’t have to deal with your self-esteem issues.
So what do we get? Men – strong, beautiful, intelligent individuals, learn to hide not only their pain, but their joy, their pride, their excitement, their hopes and fears. Because silence is safer.
The Fire Is Expensive
There is a cost, and a very real one, to this vicious and perpetuating cycle.
The man loses joy, his mood becomes low, and that eventually develops into Major Depressive Disorder (or any of the other depressive disorders). His suicide risk goes up. We’re currently at 80% male risk globally.
The woman loses the playful partner she once had.
The kids – the boys learn to hide their feelings, and the girls make fun of them. Nice – the cycle’s started up again, a fresh generation to destroy.
The friendships stay shallow. No deep talks, no fun stories.
Odin will never share a single piece of emotional vulnerability with his sister, ever again. His ex-wife is an ex-wife for the same reason.
Irish learned as a child his emotions are inconvenient and shouldn’t be shared. He has a huge personality, but this tall, broad-shouldered man has a way of making himself oddly small in a room. He’ll ask “too much?”, and I want to cry because no, baby, it’s never too much.
Rusty will never trust the auntie, or any of his coworkers again. He also no longer trusts his parents. His ex-wife doesn’t even know what he’s going through right now. Because she taught him a long, long time ago that his emotions aren’t important.
A Tool Better Than A Flamethrower
Here’s an idea, ladies. Set the flamethrower down for a bit. Over there is a field full of dandelions. Go pick some and blow the seeds into the wind. It’s fun, it’s pretty, and you can still use the photos for your Instas.
Here’s what should have been said:
- That wire meant the world to you. Tell me a story that it was a part of?
- Oh my goodness let me take a picture – that moustache is epic. (Or: oh, oh, let me do one too then we’re twinsies!)
- I’m sorry that you’re feeling this pain. Thank you for trusting me with it. I’ll keep it safe. (And then you bloody well do.)
See, it’s not too late. You can turn it around. It’s going to take time, you’ll have to earn the trust again and you’ll to be consistent, and prove that it’s safe for that part of him to emerge again. And you have to lose the “cringe”, “man up” vibe completely. Stop making sarcastic jokes and rolling your eyes.
I Set The Flamethrower Down
Personal story: I once shut down a man’s feelings like that. I realized it. I deeply, deeply regretted. No amounts of “I’m sorry” would fix it. Instead I committed to myself, without telling him, that for 1 whole year I would show up, consistently, every day, for him. He’s one of my absolute best friends now, to the point where I am allowed into his flat for coffee after previously being blocked from any visits.
I did it. One year. Every day – I didn’t tell him, or anyone, that I was doing it. I just texted him daily. Even if it was just “Happy Tuesday”. If he didn’t wanna talk, I didn’t push. If he wanted to talk only about himself, I let him, I listened, I laughed at his jokes. If he wanted to know how I was doing, I kept it light and entertaining. When I did crack and let emotions slip, I didn’t get angry when he withdrew.
And I got invited back into his life, into his workshop even, to see the projects and I was even allowed to help with the woodworking. I have regular coffee dates with him and we text each other daily. After 9 years of silence.
Here's my advice:
- When a man dares open up, I set down what I’m busy with. I listen. If I physically can’t (like I’m busy typing a super important email) I will physically reach out, put my hand on his arm and tell him, gently, “give me a second, I have to finish this” – that single move keeps him standing waiting, without making him feel shunned or less important.
- When a man goofs, I goof with. If I’m not up for goofing, I will still laugh, or make a joke, or acknowledge his silliness without detracting from it.
- When a man needs support, I give it. No questions. No judgement. No unsolicited advice. Just presence.
I call them my boys. And I love them, all of them, in whatever capacity they are to me – friends, coworkers, my fiancé, my (adopted) brother. Because more than one has said to me, “You make me feel seen”; “You’re the first woman who didn’t laugh at me”; “You’re the first woman who listened”.
I cannot describe how honoured I feel.
Dandelions, Not Fire
One dismissal about a hat. One “cringe”. One betrayal of trust.
Forty years of pride – wiped out.
One happy grin – obliterated.
One small step to recovery – annihilated.
When a man shows you one of his treasures, don’t slap it from his hands. Keep that sparkling crystal where you can see the sunlight dance across it.
His feelings aren’t childish.
They’re oxygen. They’re entire meadows of dandelions swaying in the golden light of sunset. They are freedom, beauty, joy.
Don’t set fire to them. Enjoy them.
@ironicnotion
Comments ()