At the request of my man, I am reading "Wild at Heart" by John Eldridge. I'm only a few pages in and the questions, "Where are all the real men?" and "What is a real man?" are looming.
Here's something to consider:
Society at large can't make up it's mind about men. Having spent the last thirty years redefining masculinity into something more sensitive, safe, manageable and well, feminine, it now berates men for not being men. Boys will be boys, they sigh. As though if a man were to trully grow up he would forsake wilderness and wanderlust and settle down, be at home forever in Aunt Polly's parlor. "Where are all the real men?" is regular fare for talk shows and news books. "You asked them to be women" I want to say. The result is a gender confusion never experienced at such a wide level in the history of the world. How can a man know he is one when his highest aim is minding his manners?