I’m going to be pretty deep and serious in this story about a subject that is meaningful to me. So if you’re looking for my usual snark, this probably isn’t the post for you. You see, I feel like too many men never get the mental health help that they need. Too many men carry around old wounds. Too many men never become the loving people they could be, because they never truly got over old heartbreaks, old traumas because men aren’t supposed to have traumas according to society…. Too many men never get over their mistakes, they’re just supposed to learn from them not get over them…and ultimately they end up not feeling very good, very worthy, like they don’t even deserve love. They may even get so jaded by life they don’t even believe in love.
Take the case of a young 16-17 year old on the verge of becoming a man. His story started the way so many stories did back then in the late 90s / Y2K—through the glowing screen of a bulky Apple Mac Performa computer, the shrill beeps and static pings of a 56K dial-up connection transporting Drew48 (his screen name) into a world far from his own. There, in the crowded, chaotic landscape of AOL chatrooms, he met Britney225.
She wasn’t just another screen name among the dozens that flashed by. Britney225 was funny, smart, and so easy to talk to. Drew48 wasn’t used to opening up to people, but with Britney225, it felt natural. Their conversations flowed in ways he couldn’t quite replicate in real life. He typed fast, fingers tapping away, sharing bits of his world he’d never shared with anyone.
“You ever just feel like… no one really gets you?” Drew48 typed one night after a long day of school where he felt like an outsider as usual.
“All the time,” Britney225 replied instantly. “It’s like, people look at me and think I’ve got everything figured out. But I’m just as lost as anyone.”
They both felt that way—lost in their own corners of the world. Britney225 confided in him about her complicated relationships with her friends, and Drew48 found himself telling her things he hadn’t even told his best friend. She was the only person who understood him, the only one who made him feel like he wasn’t so alone. They’d plan their daily conversations, which eventually turned into occasional phone calls.
That summer, everything changed. The pull to meet Britney225 in person became too strong to ignore. Drew48 saved up what little he had from his job at a local manufacturing company and bought a Greyhound ticket. He told his parents he was visiting a “friend,” leaving out the part about how that friend lived halfway across the country.
The bus ride was grueling. Hours stretched into days as he sat among strangers, stopping at every little town and getting out for breaks amongst a very diverse crowd of people traveling for who knows what reasons. His stomach was feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. As he traveled through the landscape of the midwest, he kept his eyes on the window, counting down the miles. He wondered if seeing her in person would feel as natural as their chats had become.
Finally, he arrived. When he stepped off the bus, his heart pounded as he spotted Britney225 waiting for him. She was smaller than he imagined, with her dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and a shy smile on her face. Drew48 shoved his hands into his pockets as they stood there, both a little awkward.
“Hey,” Britney225 said, breaking the silence.
“Hey,” Drew48 echoed, unable to stop smiling.
It felt weird at first. They’d known each other so well through screens, but standing face to face, it felt like they were still figuring out how to bridge the gap between their online selves and their real ones.
Things loosened up when Britney225’s dad tossed them the keys to his old pickup. “Run to the store, would ya?” he said, his attention already back on the TV. Drew48 grabbed for the keys with shaking hands, the enormity of being alone with Britney225 for the first time crashing over him. The dad held the keys firmly, not letting Drew48 take them yet, and he said “The teeth of the keys go up! Don’t jam them in the wrong way.”
“Ok, sure, teeth up.” Drew48 confirmed.
They drove in silence at first, the engine’s rumble filling the gaps where their words should’ve been. Drew48’s nerves were buzzing, and when they pulled into the grocery store parking lot, he misjudged the turn and came within inches of hitting a pole.
“Whoa!” Britney225 yelped, her hand grabbing the dash as her eyes widened.
Drew48’s heart leapt into his throat, but before he could panic, Britney225 started laughing—big, uncontrollable laughter that made Drew48 laugh too, even though his face burned with embarrassment.
“You almost killed us!” she teased, nudging him playfully.
“Hey, you’re still alive, right?” he shot back, finally feeling the tension ease from his shoulders.
The rest of the week was a blur of fun. They went to theme parks, screamed their heads off on roller coasters, and stayed out late at a local auto race. One afternoon, they ate at a sit-down Pizza Hut (we used to have those back then). He double-dipped a breadstick, and Britney225 scolded him. He’d never heard this double-dipping concept before, but it was duly noted and all these years later he still thinks of it every time he dips a food item. Even though the scolding was kind of silly, considering they had already had a couple of make out sessions. But he couldn’t bring that up, her little brother was tagging along to that lunch.
Drew48 soaked in every moment, feeling like he was living out a dream he’d only known through a computer screen. Britney225 was everything he thought she would be—funny, adventurous, easy to be around, caring, kind, so beautiful with the loveliest smile he’d ever seen, and the girl he had fallen in love with.
But then came that night in her bedroom.
They were lying side by side on her bed, talking quietly, when their words turned into kisses. It felt natural, at first—Drew48’s hand on her waist, her fingers tangled in his hair. But in a haze of adrenaline, he pushed things too far. He moved his hand in a way that made Britney225 stiffen. She pulled back, her eyes wide, and gently pushed him away.
“Drew48,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “I’m not ready for that.”
Drew48’s heart dropped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” she said quickly, her fingers brushing his arm. “Let’s just… not.”
The air in the room felt thick and heavy after that. They tried to go back to how things were, but something had shifted. The rest of the trip was fun—on the surface, anyway—but Drew48 couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d messed up, that he had crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.
It didn’t stop Drew48 from still planning out the rest of his life with Britney225. He applied to a college in her city and got accepted, and was set on going there and building on a life with this awesome person that he deeply loved and cared for.
When he got home, things were different. Their AOL chats felt stilted, like they were trying too hard to get back to what they had before. Then Britney225 mentioned her new “friend,” a guy she’d been hanging out with.
“He’s just a friend,” she insisted, but Drew48 couldn’t help the jealousy that twisted in his gut.
It wasn’t long before she admitted she liked this guy, and Drew48 felt like his world was collapsing. She didn’t think he should come out to college near her, after all. “I’m worried we won’t like each other anymore,” she told him.
Drew48’s heart clenched. “Do we not like each other anymore? Do you not like me?” he asked, his fingers trembling over the keyboard.
There was a long pause before she responded, and her silence said everything.
The next few weeks were a blur. Drew48 tried to drown out the pain with alcohol and late-night drives with his brother and friends, blasting music that did nothing to soothe the ache. One morning, in a fog of despair, he left a note on the kitchen counter and drove off, convinced that his life was over. But he didn’t go far—just circled the neighboring city, thinking, lost in the spiraling mess of his mind.
When he came back, his mom was waiting, her eyes red from crying. She sent him to the pastor, hoping he would help. But the pastor wasn’t what Drew48 needed. “You need to forget all of this and serve God,” the pastor said sternly. “Come do some work at the church. That’ll straighten you out.”
Drew48 nodded, but his heart wasn’t in it. The advice felt hollow, like it didn’t touch the deep hurt inside him. He needed something different.
In a moment of desperation, Drew48 applied to a different college—one far from Britney225, far from their broken plans. It was a decision made in a haze of confusion, but it saved him. He found new friends, new adventures, and, eventually, new loves.
Years later, Drew48 would look back and realize it wasn’t the end—it was just a chapter. That heartbreak, as intense as it was, had shaped him. It left scars, sure, but it also made him stronger. He met his future wife at that new school, someone who fit into his life in ways he never thought possible during those AOL days.
But sometimes, on quiet nights, Drew48 still felt like he was running. Maybe he always would be—running from something that would take more than time to heal. He hoped, one day, he’d finally stop running and feel at home, truly at peace with himself. But it’s been a struggle. The experience led to years of coping through alcoholism and other means. The experience made him lose his faith in his Church for many years after that hollow exchange with the Pastor in a moment when he needed real help. The experience made him afraid to express his love so openly again, even with those who really deserved it. The experience made him feel a guilt that might have made him feel unworthy of love, which made it so hard to even say “I love you” to anyone, even though he wanted to.
They say time heals all wounds, but for Drew48, it never really felt that way. Instead of facing the pain head-on, he ran from it. He left his hometown, distancing himself from the friends, family, and future he had once envisioned, all of which had been abruptly torn away. In the whirlwind of change, he never gave himself the space to truly heal—not from the dysfunction of his childhood, nor from the heartbreak of losing his first love. And while the pain of losing Britney225 gnawed at him, something even deeper lingered, something that haunted him far longer than the breakup.
It was the guilt. The guilt of that one night when he crossed a line with Britney225, a line that he worried might have left a mark far worse than the breakup itself. As time passed, and discussions of consent and sexual abuse became more prevalent in the media, Drew48’s mind kept drifting back to that moment. He wondered if, in Britney225’s mind, that one night overshadowed all the good they had shared. Did she see him as someone who hurt her? It gnawed at him, because Drew48 had been hurt too. When he was younger, he had been sexually abused by his stepmother’s niece, and the wounds from that were deep, never fully healed, something he never even told anyone. “Boys can’t be sexually abused” society seems to say, it only ever works the other way around. Who could he ever tell? Would they just laugh? And who was he to ask for help with that, when he, someone who had suffered from the trauma of abuse, might have inflicted something similar on Britney225, even unintentionally.
The memory haunted him, particularly because of his own experience. It didn’t seem fair. He had lived with the pain of what happened to him, never quite shaking the feeling of injustice. But now he wondered if Britney225 had to carry a burden because of him, because of that night. Over the years, as “Drew48” and “Britney225” drifted into nothing more than memories, Drew48 felt the weight of not knowing how she truly remembered it. Had that moment shaped her, scarred her? Or was it just an awkward, uncomfortable experience, a part of growing up and figuring out boundaries?
Drew48 didn’t seek her consent that night, but he respected her “no” immediately. There was no malice, no force, but that didn’t erase the fact that the line had been crossed, however briefly. It was a gray area that never sat comfortably with him, and the uncertainty of how it had affected both of them lingered like a shadow he could never quite escape.
For over 20 years, they had been estranged, with no chance for closure or understanding. Drew48 never found a way to reconcile that night in his mind—whether it was as harmful as he feared or just a youthful mistake. He was left with questions that would likely never be answered, doubts that would never fully be resolved, and a guilt that would never fully disappear. There was so much he never truly got over.
Many men feel like they have to be strong and put these kinds of things behind them. Too many men never completely heal. Too many men never find a way to be completely ok.
