Boys Don’t Cry, But Men Do

by Jessica Thompson on October 31, 2012

in Featured, Relationships

Post image for Boys Don’t Cry, But Men Do
Jessica Thompson needs her man to cry.

Not too long ago, a friend confided in me that she has never seen her significant other cry, and that if he did cry in front of her, she thinks she’d feel uncomfortable and hope he would stop.

I was shocked. My perspective is the polar opposite. Until I’ve seen a man I’m dating cry, I don’t feel as if I truly know him or could fully love him. It’s not that seeing a man cry will make me fall in love with him, but not seeing a man cry could definitely prevent it.

Seeing someone cry is a very intimate experience. Sometimes moreso than crying in front of someone yourself. Crying usually only occurs at times of peak emotion. People cry when dealing with intense grief, frustration, empathy, and even joy.

Crying together with another human being might be one of the most intimate experiences in existence. It’s much rarer and more private than laughing together, arguing together, and in many cases, even orgasming together. I personally only have two people in the world who can say they’ve laid in bed with me as we both cried openly for as long as we needed. Those are the only two people I’ve ever been in love with. That is not a coincidence.

Sure, during times of illness, death, or great tragedy, friends or family members might cry together. Although still cathartic, from my experience there is still an effort to keep oneself composed in those situations. It is people crying because the situation is so intense they can’t not cry no matter how hard they try to hold it in rather than people crying because they’ve removed the barriers between themselves and those around them completely.

I view seeing a man cry as the highest possible display of his manliness.

I view seeing a man cry as the highest possible display of his manliness. Traditionally, crying was for women or children. As the saying goes, “Boys don’t cry.” People who cry too much are “cry babies,” or “girls.” Because of this, a man crying is an even more beautiful thing for me to behold. Not only is he authentically displaying raw emotion, he is simultaneously rejecting society’s gender expectations placed upon him. By doing the least manly or “weakest” thing possible, he displays his strength, honesty, and self-confidence.

If I dated a man for a lengthy period of time without seeing him cry, I’d probably suspect he was closing off major parts of himself from me. I’d feel as if he was refusing to make himself vulnerable and was holding back from the relationship. I enjoy allowing myself to cry when I’m feeling strong emotions, but I’d feel self-conscious if it were always one-sided.

That said, everyone communicates and relates differently. While having a crying-free relationship would feel shallow and worrisome to me, it is comfortable for my friend. To her, being with a man who cried at all let alone regularly would indicate a problem, not the absence of one. Perhaps she (and her man) would find the title of this piece silly, or even insulting. I have only discussed this with a few people and it doesn’t appear to be a thoroughly researched topic. I have no clue what is “normal” when it comes to crying within romantic relationships.

What are your thoughts? Will you cry openly in front of the person you love, or would you rather save that for when you’re alone? Does crying feel good, or are you embarrassed by it? Women, how do you feel about seeing your man cry? Men, how do you feel about seeing your woman cry? Is crying in front of your significant other more or less common in homosexual relationships? How often is too often, and how often is not often enough?

[Photo: Anders Ljungberg]

About the author

Jessica Thompson is a writer living in Chicago. Her website is yesjessicathompson.com.

  • Chocolate City

    I think it really does come down to the type of person you connect with. I pride myself on keeping an even emotional keel. I’m mortified if I cry when upset. I feel the same way if I have to yell to get my way. If I’m with someone who is the same way as I am, I don’t feel quite as awkward about the whole thing (but I still hate crying).

    I cried once with a girl and we both tried to collect ourselves as quickly as possible because neither of us is comforted in sharing that level of emotion. However, it was that moment when we realized we loved each other. We later talked about how awkward and pointless our crying fit was, and how nice it was that we had similar emotions and ways of expressing them.

    If I see someone I love cry it doesn’t make me feel close to them. It makes me feel terrible that I didn’t prevent it in the first place. It makes me realize there’s a problem that I must try to fix. Crying to me pretty much sucks. Not to say people shouldn’t do it, but I don’t think I my head goes to the right place when I see it or do it.

    • http://matadornetwork.com/ Carlo Alcos

      I think it’s a very healthy emotional outlet and to suppress it because of your own judgments (learned through culture/environment) about it is not good. If it’s happening naturally let it go.

    • http://www.facebook.com/yesjessicathompson Jessica Thompson

      Chocolate City man! Thanks for commenting. I guess my response would be that there are different types of crying. Seeing you compare it to yelling helps me understand why you might not want to do it. I also do not like yelling and if I get to the point where I yell, unless there’s an emergency or something, it means I’ve lost control and I’m not in my right mind. I’ve definitely had some crying like that (suffice it to say that the birth control pill made me crazy) and later felt ashamed and embarrassed. That’s because it didn’t feel like it was “me” crying though, if that makes sense. I’ve had many what I guess you could call “conscious cries” where I’m more aware rather than less aware, and those are the ones I enjoy.

  • Charles

    I’m a 47 year old male.  While I cried as a child, my tears originated from an injury to either my body, or my ego if things weren’t going my way.  That behavior was, literally, pounded out of me as I advanced through elementary school. While I didn’t like the abuse, I don’t mind the point my “friends” were trying to make.  Unlike the emotional release an adult may get from crying, the tears from my childhood did little to affect the situation. There was no point to the tears except to express my frustration — frustration that still needed to be mitigated after the tears ran out. So I “matured”, proudly.

    Now, I’m sure as I struggled through adolescence, a good cry would have done me some good because they would have allowed me to release a different kind of frustration that probably had more to do with hormones than reality.  But at that stage, insecurities dictated my behavior. 

    As I aged, and my insecurities faded, I started to grow more comfortable with my emotions.  I was open to crying without even knowing it; but unless I suffered a tragedy such as the death of a loved one, my early adult emotions didn’t quite carry enough punch to warrant a good cry.

    Then my first child was born.  I didn’t cry that day, or the days or weeks after.  While I felt the emotional connection, I don’t quite think my rationale mind was on the same page.  But as the weeks progressed to months, and my little girl grew into my friend, a friend I would die for, my logical mind took a back seat to my emotions.

    I connected not only with my daughter, but with my daughter’s friends.  I connected with their families, and the friends of their families.  I began to feel more connected with everyone, not just through empathy, but sympathy. 

    As Bill Clinton famously said, “I feel your pain.”  The pain hurts much differently than when I was a child.  And the crying I now do helps me tremendously. 

    I cannot help that I now cry at funerals.  Or at movies.  Or graduations.  And since crying eases my pain, and likely the pain of those with whom I share tears, I see no reason to prevent it.

    That all being said, I’m not sure if anyone should judge another on that person’s ability to shed tears.  I’m fortunate to feel comfortable that I could cry, but I don’t think it means I’m more emotional, or even more secure, then other men.  In fact, one of my best friends is one of the kindest, most giving people I’ve ever met, and he doesn’t cry in front of others, including his wife.  I know he feels the same emotions I do.  He just releases them in different ways that I’m sure satisfy him every bit as much as my tears satisfy me.  If his wife judged his ability to be a great partner by his tears, she would have been making a very big mistake.

    • http://matadornetwork.com/ Carlo Alcos

      Good points…you’re right, judging people on their ability to cry is probably not helpful…if it’s not there it’s not there. I still think fighting them back or holding it in because you’re scared how you will be perceived (or, worse, how you perceive yourself) is unhealthy. That said, there are times when I fight the tears because of where I am. 

    • http://www.facebook.com/yesjessicathompson Jessica Thompson

      Thanks for sharing, Charles. I enjoyed reading this. Although I wasn’t bullied as a child, I went through a similar period. I think from about age seven or so–whenever I realized my peers thought crying showed weakness–until about age sixteen I didn’t cry at all.

      I agree on not judging people for not crying. We don’t want to break through the old stereotypes only to development new ones.

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