I’m lonely, and I’m scared to talk about it. I’m worried that people will think something is wrong with me, that I’m extremely shy or have social anxiety.

I know the statistics. Nearly 1 in 4 adult Americans say they feel lonely. But when I’m feeling this way, I assume everyone else isn’t. They have tons of friends and get invited to tons of things. Or they just don’t ever feel lonely.

This society is making all of us lonelier

The American Dream is more like a lonely nightmare. Sure, some of us can achieve material success, but there’s a cost. American workers work more hours than workers in other developed countries. We typically put in 400 more hours on the job every year compared to our counterparts in Germany. That’s 10 weeks more!

And the way we live outside of work is particularly isolated. Nearly three-fourths of Americans describe their neighborhoods as suburban or rural. This would be impossible in many European countries, where people often live in densely packed neighborhoods with tons of shared space.

Sure, American individualism feels nice sometimes. We’re less tied down by tradition compared to someone in, say, Ghana or Peru. But it’s also so cold and empty.

The strip malls, the fenced-in suburban yards, the car-centric transportation, the endless roads with no sidewalks, the focus on the nuclear family, the worship of productivity, the constant sense that more work needs to be done.

This is a strange, backwards, heartless place to live. It makes sense that so many of us are lonely.

It also has to do with being a man

Women and non-binary people can be lonely too, of course. There’s nothing exceptional about male loneliness. But there’s something about having grown up and been socialized as a man that feels like being a magnet that repels other humans. Especially when those other humans get vulnerable or show that they care.

I see it over and over again in things I do, things that just feel natural to me. My partner leaves town for the weekend, and I forget to reach out to friends ahead of time, so I end up spending most of it alone.

I don’t follow-up with friends after hanging out to say I enjoyed it and plan the next time. I don’t spontaneously call anyone, because “I’d be bothering them.” I don’t pick up the phone when someone spontaneously calls me, because “They’re bothering me.” I let texts and emails backup for weeks. I often forget about birthdays and special occasions. I forget that a friend just had a baby, or their dad passed away.

I justify all of this by thinking that I have too much work to do anyway. There’s always another thing I could be doing to market my therapy services or another thing to fix around the house. Or I just need to relax on the couch watching YouTube, because I’ve been working so hard for so long.

Good luck to anyone who wants to get my attention when I’m vegging out. Sometimes, I even cross the street if I see a neighbor coming my way. I say to myself that I’m too busy to talk to anyone right now.

I wish the statistics made me feel less alone. At least 30 percent and possibly up to 75 percent of American men report chronic loneliness in any given year. That makes me hopeless. We’re up against something so big and entrenched that a few shifts and tweaks aren’t going to make a dent.

And it’s getting worse. Over the past 30 years, the number of men who say they have at least six close friends dropped by half, to just 27 percent. Fifteen percent of men report having no close friends at all.

We need to help each other counter and deprogram the ideas this society puts in our heads. We need to reach out and care for each other more, even if it feels like the last thing we want to do. We need to practice being vulnerable together. And we need to do it even if it’s not reciprocated.

So many times I’ve reached out to a friend to plan to get together or at least catch up, and they say “yeah” but don’t put any effort in making it happen. I eventually give up because it requires too much effort, or I feel rejected.

I’m lucky to have been around people (mostly women) who keep trying anyway. I now know it’s important—no, necessary—for me to have men in my life who I can be real with and connect at a deeper level than drinking and watching football together (though I need that too sometimes!).

If you’re lonely right now, you’re not alone. If you’re embarrassed about it, you’re not alone. If you’re struggling to figure out what to do, you’re not alone. The only way to figure this thing out is together.

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