I am continually reminded that I must work toward better relationships with my sons than the one I had with my dad. Much criticism is levelled at ‘traditional’ men in modern culture – Men are from Mars, men don’t show affection, men are a nice-to-have accessory and not a necessity. You have to ask, what’s wrong with men? I am not talking about your average Neanderthal, just the bloke that gets up and goes to work every day – working hard to support his family. When did we become superfluous, painted more like a stain on society. What is the consequence of the oft repeated implication that male behaviour is somehow flawed? We may appear to be almost ritualistic in the apparent simplicity with which we approach relationships (which some may find frustrating) but we have feelings. Are we really so dysfunctional?

Whenever I used to ring home from university (in the days before mobile phones) and my dad answered the phone we would awkwardly chat for a minute before he would say “I will get your mum.” We rarely talked and the phone was certainly not a means of facilitating any real communication. Was this the consequence on my dad’s poor parenting skills, an example of a broken relationship? Although we had our differences, dad was a firm disciplinarian and hard taskmaster, he was unstintingly fair and I don’t ever remember feeling unloved or unwanted. Of course, this could be used as evidence that I had already been somehow ‘damaged,’ spoiled goods.

In attempting to foster a ‘healthy’ relationship I make every effort never to miss an opportunity to give my three sons hugs. This included kisses as they were growing up but that became less welcomed as they grew – a decision all three made for themselves. Now they are their own independent men and I still give them hugs and tell them that I love them. Like any dad, I find it hard to celebrate mediocrity but I cheer loudly with pride when they succeed in their endeavours.

Am I normal? Look closely at family groups and you will observe that men who can clearly show affection to wives, daughters and mothers may only shake hands with sons and/or fathers. You may feel these activities are poor substitutes for genuine affection (I agree), but to many fathers and sons they are every bit as meaningful as words, kisses and hugs. The handshake is embedded in our history and culture, it may even be written in our DNA. Between fathers and sons, ‘the handshake’ enacts an essential rite-of-passage – on one side the pride of welcoming an equal adult (that they created) and on the other, recognition for young male adults eager to be accepted as more than just a boy.

A different kind of affection

Attempting to project male-female/female-female interactions on male relationships is not just unscientific, it risks demonising what is (perhaps) normal and healthy father-son interactions. Look a little closer at male friendships and you will notice a subtly different type of bond. Men often share their affection in things they do together rather than what they say; for example, going to a football match, playing poker or simply going down the pub.

I believe I had a ‘typical’ relationship with my dad (for the 1970s). I barely remember the hero-worshiping toddler years, but I can still remember the feeling of security when I snuggled into his coat. Once I reached teenage years, we would end up annoying each other whenever we did talk. Despite our shared irritation, when I started my own family, he would spring into action whenever a household repair was needed. If you watched us working together you would notice that we barely exchanged more than a few words over several hours. I suppose if you were from another planet or didn’t know better you might consider our interactions as odd or distant. And yet, some of my fondest memories are of ‘doing jobs’ with dad. We would often laugh about how he tied cables to my ankle and would have me crawl under the floorboards when we went on re-wiring jobs (not acceptable practice since the Victorian era). The week before he died, he drove 200+ miles to help me with a project that was far too big to complete on my own. Thanks dad.

I believe, men are more likely to communicate affection by doing something supportive rather than by verbal expressions, or writing “I love you.” With (male) friends, when I was younger I found that I was more likely to show my affection by organizing a road trip or helping with a car repair. I behave the same way with women. I am more inclined to help my mum with a task – mow the lawn or change a light bulb – than spend time talking at the kitchen table. That said, we will discuss different members of the family. Is it anything to do with a primeval need to demonstrate our worth? And is that something that society demands?

Lesser love

Pundits seem to have devalued male relationships as substitutes for ‘real’ affection. And yet, if he was alive today, I am sure my dad would agree that our most meaningful times together were spent mending stuff. To us, that was our expression of love and our shared stories reinforced how we felt about each other. In these enlightened times it is perhaps too easy to judge male relationships as being somehow flawed rather than natural. And yet, would we question the way young male lions leave the pride when they enter adolescence?

In insisting that there is something missing or wrong, with father-son relationships perhaps we are overlooking their complexity. By necessity, traditional masculinity has tended to focus on qualities like competition, competance and self-sufficiency. Such qualities often come at the expense of outward expressions of intimacy, which can convey vulnerability. Equally, the time that sons get with their fathers is so brief that the skills that benefit to our ability to survive need to be transferred quickly and meaningfully.

Navigating modern cultural requirements sees fathers performing a balancing act of providing a suitable example of both masculinity AND intimacy – we want our sons to be independent and we also want them to be able to express love. It is a complex negotiation the continues throughout life. In some ways you could say that the old-fashioned and (then) unquestioned version of manliness of previous generations was much less complicated and had fewer confounding ‘opinions.’ Admittedly, we should always be working to improve society. But are we so arrogant that we can be certain we know what we are meddling with? History is filled with examples where a well-meaning scientist has interfered with the natural order only to reap the rewards of misery. Have we learned nothing from the Jurassic Park movies?

Many men do successfully become more verbally affectionate with their fathers/sons. Sadly, my dad died before I could achieve this. He did leave me one legacy. When I was about 18 he wrote me a letter. I still have it somewhere. Several pages long, I have never managed to read beyond the first page without having to stop, overcome with emotion. Perhaps I should dig it out and try finishing it again. Until then, I will always have the story of the superglue and the drawing pin on my wedding day to make me smile affectionately. I miss you dad!

By some coincidence of fate today is Father’s Day and I have all three boys at home (currently sleeping soundly in their beds). When they finally get up, I am looking forward to cleaning out the garden shed together (and maybe a barbeque). So, before you start repeating some catchy hypothesis that you read on Insta-Face, please take a moment to consider that our male-male relationships are already richer and more meaningful than they may appear to you. And the unique way we (men) relate to one another deserves to be recognised. At the risk of being controversial I might suggest that they are already normal.