Manchild

Pop culture has a way of holding up a mirror to society, reflecting back truths we'd rather not face. This week, it's Sabrina Carpenter doing the reflecting with her summer anthem about men's incompetence, “Manchild”. The song is brutal in its honesty:

"Never heard of self care / Half your brain isn't there."

Ouch.

But here's the thing about mirrors—they don't lie. And what this particular mirror is showing us is a generation of men who've been sold a bill of goods about what it means to be masculine, only to discover that the very traits they've been taught to cultivate are the ones driving away the people they want to connect with most.

The old playbook is broken. The strong, silent type? The provider who doesn't need to express emotions? The leader who always knows best? These archetypes worked in a world where marriage was more transaction than transformation, where companionship was enough, where the bar for emotional intimacy was set somewhere around remembering anniversaries and not leaving the toilet seat up.

That world is gone.

The New Rules of Connection

Today's relationships operate on entirely different terms. The women in your life—partners, friends, colleagues—aren't looking for a walking, talking ATM or a stoic statue. They're looking for a human being who can show up fully, vulnerably, and authentically.

This isn't about political correctness or cultural trends. This is about basic human psychology. Connection requires two people who are willing to be seen, to be known, to be present. You can't connect with someone who's hiding behind a mask of perpetual strength, who's too proud to admit when they're wrong, or who treats emotional labor like it's beneath them.

The tragedy is that most men weren't taught this. We were taught to compete, to win, to never show weakness. We were taught that our value comes from what we provide, not who we are. We were taught that emotions are optional, that self-care is selfish, that asking for help is failure.

All of these lessons were wrong.

The Cost of Getting It Wrong

Here's what happens when you cling to the old playbook: You become the manchild. Not because you're immature in the traditional sense, but because you're emotionally underdeveloped. You're a grown person who never learned the basic skills of emotional intelligence, self-awareness, and genuine intimacy.

You become the person who expects your partner to manage your emotions for you while simultaneously criticizing them for being "too emotional." You become the person who takes pride in never needing therapy or self-help while wondering why your relationships keep failing. You become the person who mistakes control for leadership and stubbornness for strength.

And then you wonder why you're alone.

The market has spoken, and it's speaking clearly: Emotional unavailability is no longer a selling point. The strong, silent type is no longer strong—he's just silent. And silence, in a world that values communication and connection, is a liability.

The Three Shifts That Matter

If you want to avoid the manchild trap, you need to make three fundamental shifts in how you approach relationships:

First, recognize that society's definition of a "good man" is often a recipe for being a terrible partner. The traits that might make you successful in business—emotional detachment, single-minded focus, the need to always be right—are relationship killers. What works in the boardroom doesn't work in the bedroom. What wins in competition loses in connection.

This doesn't mean you need to become someone you're not. It means you need to develop the parts of yourself that have been neglected. Emotional intelligence isn't weakness—it's a skill set. Self-care isn't selfish—it's maintenance. Vulnerability isn't surrender—it's courage.

Second, understand that making your partner happy isn't capitulation—it's collaboration. This isn't about becoming a doormat or losing yourself in the relationship. It's about recognizing that relationships are team sports, not individual competitions. When your partner wins, you win. When they're happy, you're more likely to be happy too.

This means paying attention to what they actually need, not what you think they should need. It means asking questions instead of making assumptions. It means being curious about their inner world instead of trying to fix their problems or dismiss their concerns.

Third, come down off your high horse. The need to be right, the need to fix everything, the need to lead every conversation—these aren't leadership qualities. They're insecurity masquerading as confidence. Real confidence allows for uncertainty. Real strength allows for weakness. Real leadership sometimes means following.

The Better Path Forward

The alternative to being a manchild isn't being a pushover. It's being a fully realized human being who can navigate the full spectrum of human experience—emotions, vulnerability, connection, and yes, even uncertainty.

It's being someone who can have a difficult conversation without shutting down or getting defensive. Someone who can apologize when they're wrong and mean it. Someone who can be present for another person's pain without trying to fix it or minimize it.

It's being someone who understands that self-care isn't a luxury—it's a responsibility. That emotional intelligence isn't optional—it's essential. That asking for help isn't weakness—it's wisdom.

The Choice Is Yours

The women in your life aren't asking for perfection. They're asking for presence. They're not asking you to have all the answers. They're asking you to be willing to sit with the questions. They're not asking you to fix their problems. They're asking you to witness their humanity and share your own.

The choice is simple: You can cling to outdated models of masculinity that leave you isolated and alone, or you can do the work of becoming someone worth connecting with.

The song will fade from the charts, but the message will remain. The world has changed, and the old ways of being a man are no longer enough. The question isn't whether you'll adapt—it's whether you'll adapt willingly or be dragged kicking and screaming into a new understanding of what it means to be human.

Your move.