Men Who Brunch

Behold the life-changing power of dudes with mimosas

Photo by Briona Baker on Unsplash

Therapist Blake Roberts recently wrote about the epidemic of loneliness among men. It’s a thought-provoking essay, the gist of which is that he has clients who are men who are surrounded by people yet are still lonely. “There is a crucial difference between being alone and being lonely. Loneliness is an emotion that, like all others, tries to communicate something to us. It is neither inherently good nor bad; instead, it indicates that we lack connection and intimacy—two fundamental human needs,” he says.

I had a comment all teed up in response.

Then I realized the comment was becoming more than a comment.

It started turning into an entire post.

Here we are.

I’ll start by saying I’m not a therapist. I don’t claim to have an answer to the epidemic of loneliness among men. I do have some theories. I suspect that inasmuch as there is an epidemic of loneliness among men, some of it has to do with how we live – spread out in suburbs, siloed off in workplaces, and connected/disconnected by tech. We’re physically separated in a way that’s unusual for humans throughout history. Sprawl is not how we are meant to live. I touched on this a bit when I wrote about the insanely undying love of Ohio University among alumni. One of my conclusions: OU represents the all-too-rare joy of living within walking distance of many friends. Among other things.

But that’s not the world that most of us live in. Most of us live spread out from our friends and family – 15 minutes away by car or in another city or state. How do you combat loneliness in that world? It takes effort. Which is why, as I was reading Roberts’ newsletter about male loneliness, I kept thinking about Men Who Brunch.

Los Angeles Chapter

When I lived in LA, I performed improv regularly with a group called Pangea. (I can’t remember why we picked this name – it probably had something to do with the ability to take one idea and drift into many different directions, like the continents. I don’t know. No improv team name is defensible.) Pangea regularly opened for two other groups – The Great Adventure, and Knife Fight. (See what I mean?) We performed at a couple different venues in Santa Monica and Hollywood. The shows were fun, but the post-show hang with all the guys (and the sainted women who performed along with us) was just as much fun as the shows themselves. Some nights, we’d stand in a circle in an alley behind the club for an hour or two talking and cracking each other up. The most I’ve ever laughed was at these shows and then hanging out afterwards.

After a couple years, the performances became fewer and fewer, and except for the occasional night out at the movies we hung out less and less. We all had jobs or were starting families or had had our fill. The part of our lives where we could give up time to rehearse and perform passed. There was no built-in reason to see these guys every week. If we were going to keep this friend group going, an effort would have to be made. We found a solution: brunch.

Now, you have to realize, this was a while ago. Brunch was something they did on “Sex and the City.” Even in L.A., it had a largely feminine aspect to it. Brunch was not what 10-12 dudes who regularly discuss playoff implications did together, which is probably why it was so much fun to become the Men Who Brunch.

Every month or so, we’d gather at a restaurant on the westside of Los Angeles at someplace with bottomless bloodies or mimosas, and we’d hang out for – well, sometimes like half the day. I’d come home from the gatherings, and my wife would ask, “What did you guys talk about for six hours?” And I’d say, “I don’t know, but I laughed the whole time.” Basically, the brunches were part banter, part improv, part roast and part celebrating life wins (new jobs, new relationships, etc.) We didn’t often get deep, but if someone was going through something, the tone shifted to support. Good guys, all.

We were reconnected by this ritual, rotating who chose the restaurant by age in the group – oldest to youngest, and then repeat. We’d take a photo to commemorate who had attended. We shared the photos in the friend chat. There may have been some light comedic Photoshopping.

You might be asking yourself – were women allowed? It’s a fair question. I think we felt less inhibited. It felt special. Like Men Who Hunt or Men Who Fish or men who do manlier things than Brunch. To their credit, the women in our lives encouraged us to spend more time with our friends because they knew how much these gatherings meant. The dude-ness of it all was never an issue.

When my wife and I left L.A. and moved back home to Cleveland in 2017 with our young kids, one of the things I knew I’d miss was brunch with those guys.

Years later, the group still gathers.

And it lives on daily in a friend chat where we share good news, bad news, jokes, you name it.

The brunch never ends.

Cleveland Chapter

So, we moved back to Cleveland, and I’m excited to reconnect with some of the guys I grew up with – only, we hardly ever see each other. I don’t have to tell you why – jobs, kids, their practices and games, all the usual life stuff. This is when I established the Cleveland chapter of Men Who Brunch.

This one is different from the LA chapter. It’s potluck. (Some of the guys can really cook.) We rotate who hosts at their house. There is much less alcohol. The guys don’t have decades of improv skills, which means the dynamic is different than the LA chapter, but there is something about living in Cleveland your whole life that turns one into a comedian whether you like it or not. We bust on each other, but we also talk about some real stuff. It is nice to be able to unburden yourself in a group setting of people who have known you for decades who will either support you to the max or tell you that you are full of it.

This group also has a friend chat.

The brunch never ends.

Back to male loneliness

I don’t have an answer. I don’t necessarily think brunch is the answer. But I do wonder if the answers lie within brunch. (There’s a sentence I never thought I’d write, but man it felt good.) Maintaining some number of good friendships requires effort. It isn’t the result of happenstance. Technology alone cannot get us there. The whole endeavor requires intention and follow-through and some creativity. And then it can potentially go beyond the group gathering and beyond the group chat.

At the end of his piece on loneliness, Roberts writes, “I invite you to reflect on your own journey with loneliness and the desire for connection. Think about who in your life could benefit from a deeper conversation, a shared moment of vulnerability, or even just a simple check-in. There is profound strength in opening up, both for you and for those in your circle, as it fosters a sense of belonging that we all crave.”

For a sense of belonging among men, I recommend brunch.

If you enjoyed this piece, you can read more of my work here.