Loving Like a Man

It’s 10 pm on a Wednesday night, and I was scrolling on Instagram when a post came up that said:

“Do you love your man for who they are, or for what they do?”

Do you? Do we?

I can’t speak from a woman’s point of view on how they love their men, that’s their truth to tell.

But as a man, I think it’s time to share how we love, and what that love costs us.

Men today aren’t having it easy. That’s not a complaint, it’s a fact. Most of us are still wired to operate like the men who raised us: shut up, show up, don’t break. That might’ve worked in a world that rewarded silent strength. But now? We’re expected to stay stoic while being emotionally available, lead without dominating, provide without being defined by it, and somehow figure all that out on our own.

There’s a disconnect, and most of us don’t even realize it. We’re playing a game where the rules have changed, but no one gave us the new playbook. Schools don’t teach this. Society doesn’t talk about it. And let’s be honest, our buddies have no idea too. When was the last time you saw a strong, honest male role model who wasn’t either mocked, villainized, or selling a podcast? Exactly.

That’s why men end up following voices like Andrew Tate. Not because they’re idiots, but because he speaks to something most people ignore: the raw loneliness, the quiet rage, the desperation to feel seen, respected, and in control again.

You don’t have to agree with his message to understand why it lands, because when no one gives men better answers, the loudest one in the room wins, even if it’s poison dressed as power.

Ever since I was a child, my father told me that a man's worth is measured by how much he can give and how much he can endure. It wasn’t just about family. He pointed to the workers in his company, the way they showed up to work every day, no matter what. I’m certain his father told him the same thing, something passed down quietly, like a secret code of honor, and not just in Asian households, but across cultures. I find that deeply fascinating.

Do I believe what my father believes? Yes, I do. Do I think a man’s worth is only based on what he does? That... is more complicated.

The truth I’ve come to understand is this:

"to love like a man often means putting yourself last."

It shows up in quiet ways. From the classic man who gets up before sunrise, provides without complaint, swallows his pain so no one else has to feel it. In this context, to love like a man means to love through doing. Not with grand words or flowery gestures, but with presence, with protection, with provision.

But the modern world demands even more. Today, a man must not only be reliable, financially and emotionally, he must sacrifice wisely, express just enough to be “in touch,” but never so much that it makes anyone uncomfortable. He must be strong, but sensitive. Stoic, but soft. And somehow, perfectly good at those.

That’s the paradox.

In modern day Indonesia, men are expected to be everything. Yet when we are hurt, betrayed, neglected, taken for granted, we are offered very little space to express it.

No pause, no grace. Just a quiet expectation to toughen up and keep going.

This kind of love, loyal, enduring, selfless, is often praised by not just women, but men as well. It is romanticized, even poetic, but because it’s quiet, because it doesn’t announce itself, it’s easy to overlook. This is often why many men feel taken for granted by the very people they love.

Of course, there is honor in loving this way, the masculine way. I believe in it.

There’s a certain beauty in giving without asking, but even so, men deserve to be seen beyond our utility. We need to be valued not just for what we do, but for who we are when we’re not performing.

To love like a man should not mean to be loved less in return.

And if there is one thing I’ve come to believe, it’s this: The number one killer in relationships isn’t drama, nor is it infidelity. Those are results from the symptoms gone unnoticed.

It’s the slow death that comes from being taken for granted which leads to indifference in emotions.

At first, it’s small. But slowly, just like male pattern baldness, it’s too late. One day, you don’t even recognize the love that once lived there.

And that, more often than not, is when resentment sets in.

Resentment is worse than hatred.

Hatred is obvious. It’s loud, even violent. When someone hates you, at least you know. There’s clarity in that. Hatred burns, but it also ends things clean.

Resentment? Resentment simmers. It doesn’t declare itself, it waits patiently. It doesn’t burn, it erodes, creeps in like fog, dulling the light until everything feels heavy and unclear.

Resentment wears love’s face and mimics patience.

It sounds like, “I’m fine.” It looks like smiles, shared beds, and dinners eaten in silence.

It’s the love that still shows up, but no longer feels alive.

And this is exactly how many men feel.

I’m not saying this is exclusive to men, I know women feel this too. But men... we resonate with resentment because we’ve been trained to endure quietly: to hold in what hurts and to appear well.

The funny story in this is that we’re praised for being strong, but punished for showing pain.

We’re expected to love fully, but forbidden from breaking when we’re betrayed.

The world wants our devotion, our protection, our resilience, but rarely does it offer us a place for grief.

Am I complaining as a man? God no, I wouldn’t dare. But here’s what I can say: loving like a man is brave. It's generous. It’s patient. But it should never mean putting oneself last to the point of erasure, trust me, I learned that the hard way.

Yet, despite this harsh reality, I refuse to abandon the belief my father instilled in me, that genuine love and sacrifice matter. I’ve learned that loving fully as a man means risking deep pain, but it also means embracing a powerful truth: genuine love, even when it hurts, is still the bravest and most authentic thing a man can offer.

Words without action ring hollow. It’s the deeds, not merely claims, that truly represent character. By this logic, defining identity through action isn't restrictive, it is liberating. It empowers a man to tangibly shape who he is and prove his values authentically.

So perhaps the answer isn't to stop doing, but to start being.

The traditional role of a man, grounded in faith, strength, responsibility, and quiet service, should still serve as the backbone of modern relationships, but it must evolve to stay relevant. That means embracing emotional presence, being smart with your choices (not everyone is worth your time, even the prettiest), prioritizing yourself. All these, without abandoning our core traditional values.

Our fathers weren’t wrong, in fact, they were right for their time. Just not fully prepared for this era.

It’s time to update your software, gents.