what do men talk about?

This isn’t a critique — it’s a quiet curiosity. Trying to understand the invisible shape of male friendship, and why so many emotions seem to live in silence.

"I know how deeply they feel. That’s why I can’t help but wonder — why don’t they share it with each other?"

When I’m out in the city walking, I see so many men. Not in any special way, I don’t count them, I don’t study their faces. Most of the time, I don’t pay that much attention. But occasionally, I catch a glimpse of two or three of them sitting at a table outside a coffee spot, sipping coffee, deep in conversation, and I can’t help but wonder: What are they talking about?

It’s not a judgmental thought. I know men have friendships that are just as real, layered, and loyal as women’s. I know they show up for each other, have shared jokes and histories, and support one another in ways I probably don’t fully see.

But still, this question floats around in my head: What fills the silence between them?

This curiosity popped up again just today. I was ordering an iced Americano at the little coffee place downstairs from my apartment. Right after me, two guys walked in — one ordered an iced latte, the other a mocha. Not your stereotypical choices. But what struck me wasn’t the drinks themselves, but the fact that they ordered them “for here”. They were planning to stay. Sit down. Talk.

And I couldn’t help but think: What now? What follows the first sip? What’s the first topic that comes up, and how far does it go?

I think about my brother a lot when this question comes up. I ask him all the time what he and his friends actually do together. He usually says they go to the gym, and mostly just spot each other and listen to music. Minimal conversation. Then maybe they grab a drink or play a game online. Still, nothing deep. No real talk about feelings or relationships. Even when he was going through a breakup, the only person he opened up to was me. Not one of the friends he spends most of his time with.

I talk to him often. I’ve seen how complex his emotions are, how rich his inner world is. He feels things deeply, even if he doesn’t always have the words for it right away. The same goes for my guy friends — I know how deeply they think, how tenderly they feel, how thoughtful they can be. That’s exactly why I can’t help but wonder: Why don’t most of them share all of this with their friends, too? Why does emotional intimacy seem to live in quiet corners?

Same with my guy best friend from childhood. We’ve been through it all — breakups, parties, quiet weekends of hanging out, talking for hours. But when I’d ask about his other friends, how they were doing, what was going on in their relationships, he rarely knew. Not because he didn’t care, but because, for him, the fact that they showed up to hang out or hit the gym meant they were fine. That’s it. No deeper confirmation needed.

This isn’t to say men don’t feel deeply or care. It’s more that many of them seem to reserve their emotional processing for the women in their lives — moms, sisters, long-time girl friends. It’s us they turn to when something’s heavy. It’s us they feel safer with when they need to cry or question, or overthink. But what happens when we’re not there?

It makes me wonder how they process the deeper emotions. Do they sit alone with it until it passes? Do they ever feel the urge to dissect a moment, to overanalyse a sentence someone said to them in a text, to spiral and then un-spiral it all with someone by their side? Or have they just been trained not to?

Because when women sit down to “catch up,” something else entirely happens. We start light, maybe a quick overview of life. Such as how work’s going, how we’re feeling. Then, without even noticing, we’re waist-deep in emotions.

One minute we’re talking about a colleague, and the next we’re digging into why we stayed in that one toxic friendship too long. Someone brings up an old situationship, and suddenly we’re psychoanalysing the guy from five years ago who ghosted after three intense dates. Then, out of nowhere, the topic shifts to sex, in graphic detail, before looping back to childhood trauma. And it’s not even 9:00 in the morning yet.

We cover everything. Sometimes with laughter, sometimes with tears, always trying to understand ourselves and each other.

By the end of the hangout, we’ve processed at least three emotions, made peace with two past versions of ourselves, gathered and debriefed gossip, and scheduled the next time to do it all again.

So when I see two guys sitting with a mocha and an iced latte, I can’t help but feel curious. Do they talk about their crushes? Do they admit when they’re scared? Do they analyse each other’s behavior, even just a little? Do they bring up their insecurities or relive awkward moments from a date? Or is the depth kept out of reach, locked behind jokes and “it’s all good, man”?

Maybe it’s not even about what’s said. Maybe it’s about what’s allowed to be said. Who gets to break the emotional surface without it becoming uncomfortable? Or maybe the comfort is there, but the language just hasn’t been taught. The language of reflection, of vulnerability, of admitting that something small has stuck with you for days and you don’t know why.

Of course, not every hangout has to be some deep soul-baring exchange. Sometimes, just spending time together, laughing, and doing something fun is enough. It should be enough. But I still wonder: What happens after?

What stays unspoken? What gets carried home quietly, never fully unpacked?

I’d genuinely love to know. Not to compare, not to criticise, but to understand. I think we’d all benefit from hearing more about how men experience friendships. The shared hobbies, the emotional support, the quiet moments, the breakthroughs. I want to hear about them. And maybe, in some small way, open the door for more of those conversations to happen.

If you’re a man reading this, I’d love to hear your take. What do you and your friends talk about when no one’s listening?

With love,
Nia