The Good Men Project

1.) Who taught you about manhood?

No doubt, my dad did. But because that’s the obvious answer, and there are so many dad-related questions below, I’m going to veer slightly off topic here.

Until a year ago, I didn’t think much about manhood. And to the extent I did, I certainly didn’t think it was something worth defending. The concept seemed rough, blunt”defined by dudes in Bud Light commercials, the way patriotism can feel like the exclusive province of Glenn Beck zealots. Women I knew would complain about their dating life and tell me, Men suck “well, except for you,” and I would be smugly pleased to be singled out, somehow a scrawnier but nobler version of whatever manhood had become.

And then I got a job at Men’s Health. We have a columnist here named Jimmy the Bartender, a sort of Ann Landers type who’s cooler, more sensible, and appreciates a good beer. Men write him with their troubles at work or home, and he advises them on the most thoughtful, respectful solution”and the guys who write him (men and dudes alike), and Jimmy himself, consider these answers to be a roadmap of manhood. Readers love Jimmy. They send him thank-you notes, and many have told me he’s the first thing they read in the magazine. One guy accidentally flipped over Jimmy’s column in an issue, concluded that the column hadn’t run that month, and sent us a deeply bitter, threatening letter, promising to never read us again unless Jimmy was restored. I directed him to that month’s column, and he remained a loyal subscriber.

I’ve learned something by watching all this go down with Jimmy. Manhood is something that every man, no matter his disposition, can consider an honorable ideal”not always achievable, but certainly recognizable and always worth pursuing. And manhood is simple, really: It is to be good and respectful, supportive and fair. That actually is worth defending. Screw the Bud Light guys; they don’t own this.

2.) Has romantic love shaped you as a man?

Of course it has. When you’re close with someone, you see the real-time value of being honest and open, and the real-time harm of being selfish and quiet. And when that relationship is romantic, the rewards for being honest and open are plenty reinforcing.

3.) What two words describe your dad?

Energetic, giving.

4.) How are you most unlike him?

He runs marathons. One time I called him and we spent a few minutes talking before I learned that he was on mile 24, sounding as if he was out shopping for milk. Me, I’m left wheezing after chasing a New York City bus to its next stop. But I’ve inherited his solid calves, which pop out of my legs despite any effort on my part, so yay for me.

5.) From which of your mistakes did you learn the most?

Have you ever tried crossing the Triborough Bridge from Queens without cash? A funny thing happens: They wait out your lame excuse, take your license and registration, tell you to drive through an hour’s worth of traffic down the bridge and into the Bronx, turn around, drive another hour’s worth of traffic back up the bridge, retrieve your license and registration, and then go the hell back where you came from to find an ATM, extract some cash, and do the whole thing over again. I will never make that mistake again.

I mean, listen: Mistakes, I’ve made a few. Many more serious than the toll bridge. This may sound overly simplistic, but learning from mistakes taught me that I can learn from my mistakes”an enormous lesson in itself. When you finally figure that out, you stop feeling bad about an error and start looking for the lesson. It’s the best part of screwing up.

But also: Can’t NYC just put some damn credit card swipers in those toll booths? Is that really so hard?

6.) What word would the women in your life use to describe you, and is it accurate?

Is it possible to find consensus among women who have known me in different ways, over different periods of time? Unlikely. But I suppose they’d all at least agree on poorly dressed, which I accept. But in the past few years I’ve started buying shirts that actually fit me, and I think that’s an improvement.

7.) Who is the best dad you know, and how does he earn that distinction?

I’m answering these questions while visiting my parents over Thanksgiving, and I am sitting here on a chair on the patio, using my dad’s laptop, and my mom is in the chair next to me reading a book. My dad just came out with a bowl of cashews for himself, and asked us if we wanted any. My mom took one. I took one, then another, then another, and so my dad just set the bowl down next to me.

“Take it,” he said.

“No, no, I’m good,” I said.

“Take it. I don’t want it,” he said, even though he probably did. He left it next to my chair, where I promptly ate the entire bowl.

A bowl of nuts isn’t much of a sacrifice, I know, and it isn’t the most important thing a father can give his son. But growing up in an environment in which this repeated itself in endless (and considerably weightier) variations by both parents”in which supportiveness is the norm and I learned, as a matter of course, that selflessness is more satisfying than selfishness”has shaped me in ways that are so ingrained, I’m fortunate to not even identify the moments in which they took hold.

8.) Have you been more successful in your public or private life?

I used to think I wouldn’t be happy in my private life until I was happy in my professional life. That was an imbalance. Now I think I need to build both at the same time, so that’s exactly what I’m doing. (To be fair, that’s a lot easier to say now that I have a job I love.)

9.) When was the last time you cried?

I was watching Up, and then suddenly: Tears! Tears! Man, that was a good movie.

10). What advice would you give teenage boys trying to figure out what it means to be a good man?

Hang on. It’ll start to make sense soon.

For Bonus Points: What is the your most cherished ritual as a guy?

I’m a Miami Heat fan because I grew up down there, and I take every opportunity to see the team play. But these days I live in Manhattan and almost love going to Knicks games more. The team sucks and the seats are cheap, and that means I can go with a pal”sometimes for $10 each!”"and we can sit in the nosebleeds, talk, drink expensive beers, and, on account of not caring who wins, we’re guaranteed to leave with no disappointments. When discounted Knicks tickets go on sale, I always buy two per game. No doubt, someone will go with me.

Here’s hoping the Knicks continue to suck. Sorry, New York.

Jason Feifer is the editor of The Best Life, the front-of-book section at Men’s Health. His work has also appeared in the New York Times, Washington Post, and Salon. He lives in Manhattan, but really hopes Dwyane Wade stays in Miami.