This may turn into a rant. No offense is intended.

I have a serious problem with our culture—with how it limits certain word’s meanings, and with its obsession with sexuality. I mean our current, 21^st century United States culture. There are some good things about it—its openness, for instance, and its related focus on tolerance and not being prejudiced—but there are also some bad things.

Here is what I mean: the other day some students (me included) were discussing a story which featured two female friends. One person said, “It said ‘intimate,’ so I thought they were lesbian.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. Okay. I can understand how, in our culture, someone could come up with that interpretation. Because our culture is so obsessed with sex. And sexual love. Erotic love. Romantic love. Call it what you will.

And apparently we have trained ourselves to so closely emotionally guard ourselves that we never get quite that intimate unless we are in a romantic relationship. We only do certain things in these relationships.

True, there have always been some things exclusive to romance, like kissing. But so many things are actually okay for platonic relationships, too. Like intimacy—concretely revealed as physical touch, emotional openness. Intimacy does not just apply to romantic relationships.

The Issue

Here is another example of what I mean: Cardinal John Newman and Ambrose St. John, two Anglican-turned-Roman-Catholic priests, lived together in the mid-1800s. Neither married; they lived a bit of a monastic lifestyle. Search for these two on Google, and more than half the results on the first page will be about how they were gay or might have been.

Same thing with the wonderful 1927 film Wings: in the film, two men, soldiers during World War I, kiss, when one man is dying. Many claim that this is the first “gay” kiss on film. As such, they assume the characters are homosexual.

Why do we assume this? First of all, why do attempt to interpret the actions of historical figures? They’re dead! We don’t know who they were, or what they thought.

Second, why do we assume intimacy equals romantic love? Why does anyone assume—why do I assume—that, when I see two men with their arms around each other, or even walking down the street together, they might be gay? Why is this the first thought that runs through my mind? Why isn’t the first thought something like, “They must be really good friends”?

Here it is: a century or more ago, that indeed would most likely not have been the first thought.

A Little History . . .

This will focus mostly on intimacy between men, because in my opinion that is the thing that has been most distorted over the last 100 years or so. 100 years ago, men could go around with their arms around each other, walking together, hugging, lying next to each other, without anyone questioning their sexuality. Touch was touch; touch was both friendly and romantic.

As homosexuality became a high-profile topic of interest and research in the early- to mid-20^th century, men began to fear being labeled “homosexual,” so they avoided any behavior that made them look the least bit feminine. This explains why men are so hesitant to display physical contact, or emotional intimacy, today.

It does seem that the recent generation of males—millennials and those younger—are much more open in displaying affection. Some say this is because these generations are more open to homosexuality.

Even if this is true, these generations are still hyper-aware of homosexuality. I daresay we’re even more aware of homosexuality, because accepting homosexuals and being homosexual are so elevated in our culture. We see it everywhere. “We do not discriminate based on race, religion, culture, creed, gender, or sexual orientation . . .”

Rainbows mean homosexuality. And intimacy means romance.

Intimacy = Romance. Not.

This is a slightly different, but related, issue. Somehow, just as men have lost emotional and physical intimacy, our culture has so elevated romantic love that we assume “intimacy” means “romance.” If you are intimate with someone, you are being romantic with someone. And so if I were to say about a girl friend and me, “We shared an intimate moment,” I’m sure everyone would look at me like I was—well—possibly homosexual. “We never knew you were attracted to her that way!” their looks might say.

Really? Is that what people are going to think? Sadly, it is. I know because I do the same thing, as much as I try not to. Of course there’s always a chance that being hyper-aware of this stuff only makes me more prone to see the misinterpretation—to think, “Oh geez, here comes the romance assumption again”—but I also think that as I have become more aware of this stuff I’ve gained a greater appreciation for what intimacy really is.

Male Intimacy

How our culture defines masculinity today is interesting. Men have to be strong, tough, etc., as they (almost) always have had to have been. It’s not cool for male friends to honestly and openly admit they love each other. Sure, they can say it when drunk, or as a joke. But to say it seriously, even if in private . . . that brings up some questions. Just how manly are you?

I know men are different from women. But everyone needs affirmation of love. While our culture may be more open and tolerant now, men are still as stuck as ever in the unemotional zone. Don’t reveal your true feelings; that’s feminine. Don’t look sensitive; you’re a man. Be a man.

But what is a man? A human being. Who ever said men had to be purely strong, stoic and outwardly unemotional? (Answer: our U.S. culture)

And while we may be more accepting of male affection now as compared to thirty or forty years ago (and I think we are), there is still a stigma that goes along with that affection. When two male friends hug each other, what do we—the media, and the general public—do? “Ahh, that’s so cute,” (say almost entirely a bunch of sappy females). “How sweet. They love each other.”

We sensationalize it. We make it “cute.” We ruin it.

Paradoxically, in seeking to value a moment of friendly affection (“How sweet!”) we make light of it. We trivialize it. We make it just something else to fawn over, like we fawn over celebrities on the cover of People or fawn over reality TV shows.

We diminish its value—what it really means. What we do is take away the seriousness of it. We take away the awe by feeling that we have to comment on it.

Perhaps this commenting is also a way of reassuring ourselves that these people are just friends—and again, our minds are back on the distinction between friendship and romance. We can’t get romance out of the picture.

More people are addressing this lack of affection in men today, which is a good thing. But again, perhaps by writing about male affection and using such terms as “bromance,” we are only doing what we are seeking to not: trivializing the sacred. Still, this recognition is mostly a good start, I think, at making male affection once again “okay.”

The Long and Short of It

All of this in our culture—lack of real male affection, obsession with romance—drives me crazy. It infuriates me. Let friends be friends! Friendship is a beautiful thing. It’s something you can’t describe in words. So don’t try.

I need to let intimacy be; I need to take it for what it is.

And if at all possible, I need to reorganize my mental pathways to think, “Intimacy—love,” and not, “Intimacy—romance.”

Because love covers all things.