Men, Where Have You Gone? Please Come Back.

So many men have retreated from intimacy, hiding behind firewalls, filters and curated personas, dabbling and scrolling. We miss you.

By Rachel Drucker

June 20, 2025

Troy and I were having dinner at Mama Delia, one of the quieter spots. The sidewalk patio held five tables: three two-tops, including ours, and a pair pulled together for a group of eight women. At those tables, Troy was the only man.

The scene was beautiful — low lights, shared plates, shoulders angled in. The kind of evening people wait for all winter. Still, I found myself watching the crowd as it moved past us: women walking in pairs or alone, dressed with care. At table after table at the nearby restaurants, there was a noticeable absence of men — at least of men seated in what looked like dates.

Troy and I have known each other for almost 20 years. We met at Playboy, of all places, back when we were both learning how desire gets packaged, sold and sometimes misunderstood. We stayed close friends, bonded not just by our opinions, but by the effort it takes to stay in someone’s life.

That night, we made the effort. Still, what I saw unfolding around us felt like something else entirely: a collective shift I couldn’t unsee.

It started to become clear the previous April, when a man who had been pursuing me canceled a dinner at the last minute. There was a scheduling mix-up with his son’s game. I understood. I’m a hockey mom; I get it. Still, I went. I wore what I would have worn anyway. I took the table. I ordered well. And I watched the room.

Only two tables nearby seemed to hold actual dates. The rest were groups of women, or women alone, each one occupying her space with quiet confidence. No shrinking. No waiting. No apologizing.

That night marked something. Not a heartbreak, but an unveiling. A sense that what I’d been experiencing wasn’t just personal misalignment. It was something broader. Cultural. A slow vanishing of presence.

I spent over a decade behind the curtain of digital desire. As the custodian of records for Playboy and its affiliated hardcore properties, including sites like Spice TV, I was responsible for some of the most infringed-upon adult content in the world. I worked closely with copyright attorneys and marketing teams to understand exactly what it took to get a man to pay for content he could easily find for free.

We knew what worked. We knew how to frame a face, a gesture, a moment of implication — just enough to ignite fantasy and open a wallet. I came to understand, in exact terms, what cues tempt the average 18-to-36-year-old cis heterosexual man. What drew him in. What kept him coming back. It wasn’t intimacy. It wasn’t mutuality. It was access to simulation — clean, fast and frictionless.

In that world, there’s no need for conversation. No effort. No curiosity. No reciprocity. No one’s feelings to consider, no vulnerability to navigate. Just a closed loop of consumption.

What struck me most wasn’t the extremity of the content; it was the emotional vacancy behind it. The drift. The way many men had quietly withdrawn from intimacy and vulnerability. Not with violence or resistance, but with indifference.

They weren’t sitting across from someone on a Saturday night, trying to connect. They were scrolling. Dabbling. Disappearing behind firewalls, filters and curated personas. And while they disappeared, women continued to gather. To tend. To notice who wasn’t arriving — and to show up anyway.

I’m 54. I’ve been dating since the mid-80s, been married, been a mother, gotten divorced, had many relationships long and short. I remember when part of heterosexual male culture involved showing up with a woman to signal something — status, success, desirability. Women were once signifiers of value, even to other men. It wasn’t always healthy, but it meant that men had to show up and put in some effort.

That dynamic has quietly collapsed. We have moved into an era where many men no longer seek women to impress other men or to connect across difference. They perform elsewhere. Alone. They’ve filtered us out.

I recently experienced a flicker of possibility. With James. We met on Raya, the dating app. There was something mutual from the start — wordplay, emotional precision, a tone that felt attuned. It was brief, but it caught light. I remember saying to him, “Even fleeting connections matter, when they’re mutual and lit from the inside.” I meant it.

There was just enough spark to wonder what might unfold. Enough curiosity to imagine a doorway. But he didn’t step through it. Not with a plan. Not with presence. He hovered — flirting, retreating, offering warmth but no direction.

Sexual tension and a spark aren’t reason enough to sit still and hope there’s substance behind the shimmer. So I named what I felt. I texted him clearly, with care, not simply to declare attraction but to extend a real invitation to explore what was possible. I didn’t chase. I invited, leaving the door open. If he ever wanted to cross the threshold — not just to take, but to meet — I was willing. I wanted. I still do.

He never replied. He still follows my Instagram stories — one of those small gestures of passive engagement that so many of us now mistake for closeness. It looks like interest. It feels like silence.

There are thousands of Jameses. I have known dozens. The arc varies, but the undertow is familiar.

What I won’t entertain is directionless orbiting. That thing so many men now seem to mistake for connection: the perpetual maybe. The emoji check-ins. The casual “seeing where it goes” without ever going anywhere. We call it a situationship. But mostly, it’s avoidance. An abdication of ownership — of feeling, of behavior, of sex that isn’t a means to an end, but is communion.

There was a time, not so long ago, when even a one-night stand might end with tangled limbs and a shared breakfast. When the act of staying the night didn’t announce a relationship, just a willingness to be human for a few more hours. Now, even that kind of unscripted contact feels rare. We’ve built so many boundaries that we’ve walled off the very moments that make connection memorable. And frankly, morning sex is often the best sex. Sometimes you even get a side of eggs before you disappear from their bed and their life forever.

This idea that vulnerability is a threat instead of an invitation has created a culture of hesitation, of men circling intimacy but never entering it. And the result is thousands of tiny silos. Everyone performing closeness, but no one making a move that binds. Isolation. Loneliness. A hunger for contact that has nowhere to land.

Maybe we’re between paradigms, mourning what’s fallen, not yet fluent in what comes next. The infrastructures of intimacy — slowness, curiosity, accountability — have been eroded by haste, convenience and a kind of sanctioned emotional retreat.

It’s not about blaming men. It’s about noticing the imbalance. About grieving what’s not meeting us. And about refusing to dress it up as personal failure when it’s actually a collective reality.

So here’s what I’ll say: You are missed. Not just by me, but by the world you once helped shape.

We remember you. The version of you that lingered at the table. That laughed from the chest. That asked questions and waited for the answers. That touched without taking. That listened — really listened — when a woman spoke.

You are not gone, but your presence is thinning. In restaurants, in friendships, in the slow rituals of romantic emergence.

You’ve retreated — not into malice, but into something softer and harder all at once: Avoidance. Exhaustion. Disrepair.

Maybe no one taught you how to stay. Maybe you tried once, and it hurt. Maybe the world told you your role was to provide, to perform, to protect — and never to feel.

But here’s what’s real: We never needed you to be perfect. We needed you to be with us. Not above. Not muted. Not masked. Just with.

And you can still come back. Not by becoming someone else, but by remembering what connection feels like when it’s honest and slow. When it’s earned and messy and sacred.

We’re still here, those of us who are willing to cocreate something true. We are not impossible to please. We’re not asking for performances.

We are asking for presence. For courage. For breath and eye contact and the ability to say, “I’m here. I don’t know how to do this perfectly, but I want to try.”

Come back. Not with flowers or fireworks, but with willingness. With your whole, beautiful, imperfect heart.

We’re still here. And we haven’t stopped hoping.

As for me, I’ll keep showing up. Not because I’m waiting. Because I know what it feels like when someone finally arrives.

Rachel Drucker is an intellectual property professional in Chicago.

Modern Love can be reached at modernlove@nytimes.com.

To find previous Modern Love essays, Tiny Love Stories and podcast episodes, visit our archive.

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A version of this article appears in print on June 22, 2025, Section ST, Page 6 of the New York edition with the headline: Men, Where Have You Gone? Please Come Back.. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

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(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49036883)

EVERY SINGLE TIME

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037004)

https://www.arthritis.org/news/covid-19-vaccine-journey-rachel-drucker

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037120)

And you can still come back. Not by becoming someone else, but by remembering what connection feels like when it’s honest and slow. When it’s earned and messy and sacred."

====

men, she says you're allowed to come back, phew. but on her terms, obviously. only on her terms.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037011)

maybe she should invest in a time machine?

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037012)

but her premise is that the normal, sane people -- the women -- are patiently waiting for the return of men (who deserted normalcy). women had nothing to do with the estrangement, mind you. that's 100% on the men. the women are normal, we're not.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037020)

Sexual tension and a spark aren’t reason enough to sit still and hope there’s substance behind the shimmer. So I named what I felt. I texted him clearly, with care, not simply to declare attraction but to extend a real invitation to explore what was possible. I didn’t chase. I invited, leaving the door open. If he ever wanted to cross the threshold — not just to take, but to meet — I was willing. I wanted. I still do.

He never replied.

***

Imagine getting a "BUT WHAT ARE WE AND WHERE IS THIS GOING?" text from a 54 year old woman. James dodged a bullet.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037026)

haha yeah, anyways gotta go.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037037)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037084)

"how desire gets packaged, sold and sometimes misunderstood" tp

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037237)

[...]

What struck me most wasn’t the extremity of the content; it was the emotional vacancy behind it.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037241)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037242)

Health Sciences Campus (Stritch School of Medicine; Marcella Niehoff School of Nursing):

Please email Rachel Drucker, Tech Transfer and MTA Paralegal, rbeyler@luc.edu, 708-216-9391.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037287)

-

I’m 54. I’ve been dating since the mid-80s, been married, been a mother, gotten divorced, had many relationships long and short. I remember when part of heterosexual male culture involved showing up with a woman to signal something — status, success, desirability. Women were once signifiers of value, even to other men.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037243)

women oscillate between 0% agency and 100% agency, depending on the topic that women are discussing.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037290)

I also think that in the age of Tinder older dudes with money can date chicks in their 20s almost forever. And move on to chicks in their 30s once they hit 70 in most cases. So there are 50 year old guys showing up and delivering belly laughs, but just not to you. I used to hang out with Nathan Fillion and he went out with a different chick every night of the week. He was a machine. You really think a good looking rich single guy with stratospheric social status would be swiping on women his own age? Are you crazy?

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037261)

You should have found a dude a long time ago and not be 'dating.' It's not rocket science.

The math IS mathing. You'd think these Jewesses with advanced degrees would be smart enough to look at the data.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037414)

this is hard for men to accept because we assume any sufficiently smart person would correct their thinking when its provably flawed. note that women have a hard time accepting when a man believes something outside their perceived consensus, thus every intelligent trump supporter *must* be a bigot of some sort.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037487)

your reluctance to accept this only because it "feels" wrong and conflicts with your consensus is a window into the female mind. amplify that by 100 and you can get a window into how objectively smart women succumb to longhouse thinking.

also im not shitting on women. this type of thinking is necessary for social cohesion and the consensus usually is correct in a healthy society. masculine stubborn independent thinking is exactly why almost only men become nsam/consuela types that disregard consensus entirely and trust *only* they internal rational framework.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037556)

I am drawn to masculine brained women imo. Just be feminine in the bedroom and the kitchen rest of the time I'd rather have a brainy, logical first mate on the journey of life.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037564)

different strokes for different folks, im not saying your preference is wrong. only that most men want a woman that will rub their head and comfort them rather than being a man focused entirely on the practical. while the drawbacks of female emotion-based thinking are frustrating and sometimes incomprehensible, most of us dont actually want a man with a pussy.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037580)

But yeah in general I don't care for an overly doting ho. More of a cat person than a golden retriever.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037585)

Then when a man hits his 40’s and is a millionaire, women will settle for 6’2-6’4 guys who were always boxed out of the dating market because of their height. These men were caged up and they’re not going to settle for some 40 year old woman because he’s bitter and wants his 20 year old now.

This is the market women created. And below that height? Lmao you can’t even pay women anymore. You used to be able to be some 5’11 good looking guy and go to a strip club and make an outside arrangement with a 7. Now you can’t even do that bc strippers and pros realize they can make more on onlyfans selling their shit to some dude in India for $100 a photo.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5741162&forum_id=2#49037372)