That is it. Just a personal post, a personal story, or a useless rant. You decide. Everyone knows men are bad at friendship. I know I am bad at friendship. There seems to be an invisible wall around each man. I had the hurtful experience of learning that some friendships are transactional. They last as long as both parties have something to gain from each other.

Many years ago, certainly more than a decade, I met this young fellow at a production van for a film we were both working on. He was a low-level production assistant; I was a script supervisor. He was an aspiring writer and learned that I was a screenwriter. I offered to teach him what I knew about screenwriting for free. I was a student myself, so it didn’t make sense for me to charge for lessons. He came to my house a few times, and I told him everything I knew. Loglines, storylines, outlines, structure, format. The works. It was awesome.

For many years he sent me his originals (usually short stories), which I reviewed diligently, as others had done for me in the past. One day, after reading one of his stories, I told him something along the lines of "You have surpassed me and I have nothing left to teach you. I will still read your stuff if you want, but now you will read my stuff as well because I want your advice." And I meant it.

Years passed, and we no longer read each other’s originals. I don’t know why; it just happened. He still visited me regularly, especially for lunches and dinners with my family (as Brazilians, the dividing line between family and friendships is either thin or nonexistent).

COVID happened, taking a slice of everyone’s personal history. I moved out of the family home, got married, had a kid. In the meantime, he sent me a message asking for help. He was depressed, paranoid, scared to leave the house. I visited him the next day and gave all the advice I had accumulated from being a psychiatric patient for the last 20 years or so.

After that I occasionally sent him messages asking how he was. Sometimes he answered. When my son was born, I sent him a picture and asked him to come visit. He responded but never came. I kept inviting him, making it clear that it was important for him to be a part of my life in that new phase. I invited him to the first birthday of my son. He answered with an emoji. He didn’t come. The last message I sent him was two weeks ago. Seen. No response.

He has an online presence, and I can see that he takes part in multiple social events related to his career as a writer. Book launches, lectures, online talks, academic events. Surrounded by people, calmly smiling and perfectly content. There are videos for a lot of that stuff.

Although the last time we talked he was emphatic that he was much better and able to work, it is conceivable that he is unwell. But it is hard to reconcile that with the fact that he seems quite capable of socializing with everyone except me.

Everyone, it seems, who is instrumental to his career. Which I no longer am.

That fucking hurts.

Is this just something men do? Is he scared of catching fatherhood from me like it's the flu? Is this an expression of his ideas of masculinity?

I'll never know because he doesn't answer, and if he did, he would never talk about that because men don't talk about anything that matter.

When I won my first grant as a screenwriter 18 years ago, I hired him as an assistant and we traveled together to a remote location where I thought I would be able to concentrate on my writing. He was supposed to help me and he did, even if a lot of what he did was just talk to me all day. That probably helped more than anything he could do in regard to the actual writing. And now I am asking myself, was that wonderful friendship-building experience just a paycheck for him?

I am ending this. I am ending this even if he does not realize. That is incredibly demeaning and I feel tired. Whatever the reason for him drifting apart, it is not for me to resolve. If someday he finds a reason to reach out, even if it is transactional in nature, I will be there for him. For now, I must say, it's goodbye, old friend.

This is a topic that I have been holding to myself for quite some time, mostly because I didn't know how to quite phrase what I wanted to say. I still don't think I am going to do the best job but I wanted to hear what other peoples thoughts.

I'm someone who has always valued my few friendships very highly. My dad drilled into me at a young age that it is better to have fewer, high quality friendships than a plethora of not very meaningful relationships.

As people age and move on to different stages in their life, I completely understand that some people might not have the same amount of time to give you in a day that they previously used to. People get busy, have relationships, get married, etc. Which brings me to my situation and how I feel:

I have a friend who I've known since high school, and we're both 30 now. We've always been pretty good friends and in our later 20's we got even closer. I would say that we both deviate from the 'typical' unemotional guys who don't share how they feel with others. Both him and I would let us know what's going on in our lives and how it made us feel, etc. During this time, he was in a relationship (which he was not super happy with, due to some actions his partner did), but would share some of his more inner thoughts with me rather than her. They weren't the best at communicating with one another.

Fast forward two to three years, I got married, my friend broke up with his then partner. He moved back to his parents place, and the time before my marriage (I lived with my parents and had access to a car) I would try and visit him as often as I can just to hang out at night, or to see how he's doing. I've even driven over at midnight just to hangout with him until 4 AM because he was feeling lonely.

He congratulated me online (my wedding took place in another country, and I know none of my friends could afford to, or would not want to, travel just for a ceremony, so I didn't really invite anyone) but also indirectly told me he was jealous that I was married and stuff and he wasn't. For him, getting married is a much bigger deal than it is for me, I never really minded being single or alone. Please don't misconstrue this as me not being appreciative of my wife. She is very dear to me and I always to provide the best for her.

Fast forward another 2 years, and my friend got married to someone he met online. Since then our friendship has been mostly one sided almost. I had to initiate almost every conversation, and it's like messaging a blank wall, there's no reciprocation, and if there is it is very shallow. On top of that, we hang out much less as well (which I get, you do have to give a certain amount of commitment and attention to your spouse) so messaging is the main way to keep in touch.

Don't get me wrong, I've had this happen to me plenty of times. Mostly in university, had a couple of really good friends (or so I thought), as soon as they get a girlfriend, most of them forget I even exist. Maybe I expected more because I've known him for so long, or maybe I should expect less and accept that in the way our current society is shaped people start forming a bubble around themselves past a certain point in their life and you're no longer included in it.

Maybe this post came off as me being really entitled, I don't know. I just wanted to vent my frustrations somewhere. What does everyone on here think about relationships with their friends when you're married? Are you okay with seeing them less often? Is this just an expected outcome of being married?

For context, this was neither in the US nor Europe. This is not my first language and some terms are direct translations since I am not aware of actual usage.

I'm coming from an intense experience: my first son is born. In the days before that, I cared for my pregnant wife during the passing of her mother, who spent 3 months in the hospital fighting multiple conditions, chiefly neurological.

Two days after the burial, we went to the hospital for several exams. My wife was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia, a potentially dangerous pregnancy complication characterized by high blood pressure.

We spent almost a week in the hospital. My wife did not want a c-section, so our doctor employed multiple methods to induce labor over the course of several days.

There are no men in the maternity ward. Men do not sweep floors, do not take calls, or take any position of care.

I did not see any men in the hallway, although I assumed there were some hidden in the bedrooms.

When the nurses entered the room, they did not look at me. I was not a father, but rather a "companion" whatever you would use in English for someone who is just kind of there. When they had instructions pertaining to the care of my wife and son, they never addressed me. They only addressed me in matters lacking importance, like "Get me a towel", or "Is there any cotton left?".

The tone and body language were of contempt and distrust.

When my wife was soon to go into labor, I decided to go to the bathroom, since I expected to be locked in a room for many hours. When I left the bathroom (which was in the same room where she was), my wife was not there. She was gone. I looked for information and realized she was in the delivery room.

When I was in the bathroom, someone asked me to get something for the doula (a woman), but didn't tell me why. I did. You see, they had time to request me to get something for the doula, but couldn't use the same time to warn me that my wife was being taken to another floor.

That was incredibly traumatizing.

At every step, the message was very clear: "You are not welcome here". "You are not qualified to care for your wife and son". "You are man, and, therefore, a menace to this environment".

Well, fuck them. I was there for my wife since day one. In every contraction, every second she needed me, I was there.

I was the first person to touch my son when he left the womb.

We had to revolt to leave that place as soon as we could. Our personal pediatrician had to intervene because apparently, the maternity ward didn't really trust my wife either -- they just pretended. The kid was slightly underweight. I was convinced that the long stay at the hospital was the main factor impacting breastfeeding. My wife needed to mourn the loss of her mother and required some sense of normality and routine (we are so incredibly happy in our day-to-day, I was confident she would improve!). Turns out that I (and our doctor) were right. We're home now, and the kid's gaining weight again.

At every step of this process, I was invited not to care. "Get out, father, you are not needed here." "That is not a job for men, let the women do it for you".

Earlier today, a neighbor came asking "Are the girls helping you out?". I gotta be honest, I snapped. "No", I said. "This kid has a father". "Oh, but the feminine touch is special!". "It is not", I answered.

Well, fuck them, because I do care for my son, and I will continue to do so. I fully acknowledge and respect the special connection a mother has with their kids. I cannot bear a child, and I lack the ability to produce milk. Other than that, there are no tasks my wife can do that I cannot do as well.

I am not an angry person. Thinking about this makes me very angry and I hate that feeling. I feel a long-lasting trauma is forming. I'm pretty shook-up.

I love my son, I guess that ultimately that is all that matters.

I'm just glad I'm now home, and that I am no longer the only man in a place that considered me a foreign body, trying to eject me at every chance.