When I think of my good friends, I see them in cinematic terms. The camerawork is entirely different for men and women. The “movie” memories I have of female friends are open and intimate. We are talking, interested in each other in a magnetic sort of way. They look straight into my eyes, sensitive to my feelings, listening to me with deliberate attention. In comparison, memories of male friends are in an entirely different film altogether. An action or adventure movie! Not much in the way of dialogue. The ritual of motion, or the sequence of action, makes up for the deficiency of dialogue and honest narrative.
My mind retreats back to my earliest childhood friend, Donald. I was still living in Europe at the time, and near my house was an abandoned old truck. No wheels. No windshield. No doors. But the steering wheel was intact. Donald and I continuously “flew” to America in that truck, our “airplane”. Even now, I remember our daily ritual as we flew along, across Europe, across the Atlantic, on a mission of mercy. We were innocent and inseparable, enjoying the deep security that comes between best friends. Naturally, not one word of our evident feelings for one another was ever uttered; it was all done in actions.
Each day, as we were flying over the Atlantic, there inevitably came that wonderful moment: “Engine failure!” I’d shout into the microphone, “We’ll have to jump out.” “A-a-a-a-a-!” Donald made sounds like a failing engine. Glancing at me, he’d say, “I can’t swim!” “Fear not! I’ll drag you to shore,” I’d bravely reply. And, with that, we’d both spill out of the truck onto the dusty street. I swam through the dust. Donald drowned in the dust, coughing. “Sharks!” he cried. But I always saved him. The next day, changing roles, the elaborate drama would repeat. “I can’t swim!” I’d say and Donald would save me. We saved each other from certain death hundreds of times, until finally a day came when my family really did leave for America. Donald and I stood rigid at the train station ready to say farewell. We didn’t know what to say; we couldn’t save each other this time. So, we just cried silently as the train pulled away.
These days, Jessica is one of my best friends. A recent occurrence made me reexamine and interpret my behavior in a new light. We were swimming at a beach in the Atlantic. The very Atlantic I had “flown” over in that old truck with Donald. We were far from shore when we abruptly turned back. We both thought we had detected a shark! Water is not only a good conductor of electricity but of panic as well. We began splashing like crazy people toward the shore. In my panic, I suddenly realized how much I loved my friend Jessica, and what an irreplaceable friend she was. Although I was the faster swimmer, I fell back to protect her. In the end, the “shark” proved to be imaginary. But not my deep emotional feelings for my friend. We felt great back on the beach, a little scared and laughing with the excitement of being alive. We looked into each other’s eyes and Jessica spontaneously said, “I love you!” “Love you, too!” I replied.
As I spoke, I realized just how gender-based my communication style was. With women, I could be open, emotionally honest, and transparent. With male friends, it seemed impossible to express caring feelings no matter how deep the friendship was. I could easily utter “I love you” to my mother, my sisters, and my close female friends; yet not once in my life had I been able to look a male friend in the eye and say the same thing. Quite impossible! Was this just me or was every male in the world similarly cursed? Was I emotionally backward or just a “guy”? I was determined to find out!
Much to my relief, research shows that I am, indeed, a “normal guy”. It seems that men and women have very different emotional and rational processes. Part of it is “nature” and part is “nurture”. We are born with different genetic tendencies which society encourages as either “masculine” or “feminine”. These differences in behavior and communication style were made famous by John Gray in his book Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. This book and other articles helped me realize it’s OK to be the way I am. Men do tend to be more restrained with emotional expressions. I learned that I did love all my friends – only the means of expression differs from one gender to the other. What a relief!