So, I do not have a lot of male friends.
Well, I don’t really have a lot of friends in general, but a lot of my closer friends tend to be female.
I don’t think I have any problems bonding with men one-on-one. I can always find enough common ground to build a foundation for a viable relationship.
The problems arise with the prospect of “hanging out” with groups of male friends. As a kid, I never quite realised why being in groups brought out the worst in each member. Thinking about it now, the answer seems quite obvious. Groups of guys are based on the one thing a majority of men have in common: toxic masculinity.
While I did not quite realise this at the time, it did repel me from all such groups, and, by extension, from all such male acquaintances who could have otherwise become close friends.
This occasionally made me wonder if they were the normal ones and I was the weirdo. Most other times, though, I was convinced I was too great to bond with those mere mortals, anyway.
Recently, having had time to meet a lot of people and decide whom I like best, I have ended up with a colourful group of weirdos, and am beginning to realise that the male bonding experience, though often highly glorified in movies, does have value in one’s life.
Specifically, it has already added value in my life, and I am better for it.
“In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things, does the heart find its morning and is refreshed.”