I lost a friend half a dozen years back. He didn't die; our friendship did.
M moved to the UK, more than 40 years ago. On the way, he lived in the Middle East; learnt Arabic; also learnt all he could about its peoples.
In the UK, M became a staunch supporter of an independent Palestine. When we visited, he'd talk with authority and passion about his group meetings, letters to media, trips he'd made to help rebuild houses in conflict zones. I'd listen, ask uninformed questions, admire M's commitment as much as his cause.
Then, with no warning, I received a letter (yes, we actually wrote to each other on paper) telling me I hadn't properly acknowledged his activities and motivations. A couple of occasions were mentioned when I'd apparently shown indifference, even antagonism.
I was startled; felt I'd always listened to M with respect. I replied, saying so, saying also how I felt friendship could - should - be able to embrace differences of behaviour and focus. I stressed how much I liked him and valued our relationship.
No response. I wrote and emailed a couple more times, repeating how much our previous mutual affection meant to me. I never heard back.
I still mourn the end of that friendship. It had made me feel valued and understood. Its amputation left me reproached and diminished.
Why am I banging on about male friendships and feelings? Because received, perceived wisdom is that our gender is poor at having the first and fearful of expressing the second. At least once a month, a columnist or talkback host will proclaim that males need to get closer to one another, talk about their emotions more.
Actually, we do both of those things already. It's just that our methods and language are different from those of other tribes.
This story is from the June 11 - 17, 2022 edition of New Zealand Listener.
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This story is from the June 11 - 17, 2022 edition of New Zealand Listener.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 8,500+ magazines and newspapers.
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