By Chris Willett
I belong to a men’s organization called MenLiving. I’ve been involved with the group for a while and regularly attend their Zoom meetings. They host at least one a day and might even be trying to add more. One of their mottos is something like: “Helping men connect, heal, and thrive.” I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the essence.
In my experience, a lot of these meetings focus on healing—feeling and expressing emotions, talking through what’s going on in our lives, being vulnerable. What I really appreciate about MenLiving is that it offers space for that. Nobody’s trying to fix each other or give unsolicited advice.
That said, sometimes I feel there’s too much focus on healing and not enough on connecting and thriving. Sure, you can connect through Zoom, but for me, I have to take what I learn there and apply it in the real world. I need to take action. Talking’s great, but if it doesn’t lead to doing something, what’s the point?
There’s been a lot of talk lately about how lonely men can be. A surprising number of men don’t have even one real friend. That’s part of the reason MenLiving was created—to help guys connect. And the hope is that by connecting more deeply with men, we can connect better with everyone, including women. That part really rings true for me.
After a recent meeting that left me feeling a little off, I had a chance to put all of this into practice.
Carla and I were visiting my sister over Memorial Day weekend. She lives in a small coastal town in Northern California. It’s a beautiful place. Many of the homes are second homes, but on holiday weekends like this one, the neighborhood fills up.
My sister and a few neighbors planned a casual outdoor get-together—bring your own drinks, a few hors d’oeuvres, and of course, the dogs were welcome. At first, it was supposed to be in front of my sister’s house at the end of the cul-de-sac, but the wind was strong that day, so they moved it to a more sheltered spot down the street.
Carla and I were planning to go, but when the location changed, she decided to stay back and work on some photos. My sister and her husband still went. At first, I felt relieved—like I’d just gotten out of something. I started running all the usual excuses: “These aren’t my neighbors. I’ll never see them again. It’ll be all small talk. I’m an introvert. Why bother?”
But then I thought about MenLiving. About connection. And not just connecting with men—connecting with people. Older, younger, men, women, rich, poor—doesn’t matter. For me, that’s the real juice of life. So I gave myself a little challenge: go anyway.
I ran a quick cost-benefit check in my head. Worst case, I’m mildly uncomfortable for an hour. Best case, I surprise myself and meet someone interesting. It was just a short walk down the street. I could always leave.
So I slipped a beer into my coat pocket and headed out.
When I arrived, there were about 15 people and 10 dogs—well-behaved dogs, mostly looking for some attention and doing the occasional crotch sniff.
The small talk began. I asked one woman which house was hers. She said “the green one,” which they mostly rent out as an Airbnb, but they love visiting when they can. All the houses have great ocean views, each one a little different. She asked where I lived, and I told her the truth: “I’m homeless.”
Talking to someone else later, I said I was just a “gypsy on the road.” Also true. It was actually kind of fun giving different slices of my story, depending on the moment. All honest—just different facets.
After about 30 minutes, I started to feel like I fit in. The group was easygoing and welcoming. I even had a few longer conversations with people I’d only briefly met before.
One thing I noticed was how different the conversations were with men versus women. The women tended to talk about what they like to do—creative stuff, hobbies, how they see the world. One woman talked about jewelry making. Another told me about her neighborhood in the Bay Area.
With the men, the talk was more about what they did—careers, boats, fishing stories, properties. One guy was a retired commercial fisherman, which was fascinating, but the energy was different. It wasn’t bragging—it’s just that men are often wired to talk about what they’ve done, while women seem more comfortable talking about what they love.
I found myself gravitating more toward the women’s conversations—not because I was hitting on anyone (most folks had their partners with them), but just because their way of connecting felt more natural to me.
I also noticed one or two men who seemed socially awkward—mostly quiet, sticking close to their partners. In hindsight, I wish I’d reached out to them. Maybe next time.
The snacks were great, and I stayed until the end—helped pack up chairs and tables. One neighbor even invited me in to check out their ocean view from the deck. It was spectacular.
I’m really glad I went. Not just because it was fun, but because I pushed myself—and it paid off.
The next day, I bumped into a couple of people I’d met. One guy talked about pulling weeds as a form of anger therapy. Another woman was excited because she’d just bought a Dremel drill press. She told me she could now drill a perfectly straight hole, and she was thrilled. Not sure what her project was, but I loved her enthusiasm.
People are amazing. But I only get to see that when I take the risk to connect. And that means more than just talking about it in Zoom meetings. It means showing up, stepping out, and being open. I hope I keep doing more of that.
