For decades it has been ingrained in men that they are to be held to a very specific standard. Men don’t cry, men are strong, men have to take care of everyone else, stop your whining, I’ll give you something to cry about, be the alpha male, that’s “gay”, strength, weakness, and so on.

My father, and grandfather, both grew up with a code of silence. Feelings weren’t talked about, but relayed through their wives; except anger. That was given directly through corporal punishment (hand or belt).

I was always “emotional” growing up. I cried “like a baby” over “nothing”. No one ever came to check on me, or console me, during any of my “fits”. In fact, there were times I was ridiculed for it (sometimes by family members).

When I was 19 my grandmother died. I was really close with her; she was the only one who ever came to my aid and defended me. It tore me up so bad I could barely talk without breaking down. I was told multiple times that I shouldn’t be so upset, and that I was overreacting (by my family). Everything came to a head when all at once my cousins, aunts, uncles, and even brother yelled at me because I was being selfish and unreasonable, and insensitive to my grandfather because “he just lost his wife”.

Oh, and apologies are for “pussies”.

Anyway, it’s not really about me. I wanted to paint a picture for you as to why I’m lonely. Do with that what you will.