Say it, DamMit

I’m 60, and I just started telling a couple of my closest guy friends that I love them.

Not in some awkward, Hallmark-movie, cue-the-violins kind of way. Just simple. Real. Usually at the end of a phone call:
“Hey man… I love you.”

And here’s the thing:
It felt like cracking open a safe that had been welded shut for decades.

Not because I didn’t feel it before. Of course I did.
We’ve been through the shit together—divorces, near-deaths, bad bosses, big wins, and all the quiet little moments no one writes about.

But something in me always held back.
Old programming. Tough guy crap. That subtle, silent rule we all absorbed: Don’t be too much. Don’t be too soft. Don’t say it unless it’s to your wife, your dog, or after three bourbons.

Screw that.

What I’ve learned — painfully, slowly — is this:
If you love someone, and they’ve shown up for you, and they make your world better just by existing in it… say it.
Say it while you still can.

Because we’re not promised another check-in call. Or another laugh. Or another night around the fire talking about nothing and everything.

And when I finally said it, here’s what surprised me: it didn’t feel weak. It felt strong as hell.
It felt like walking around without armor for the first time in my life — and realizing I didn’t need it anymore.

Deep connection isn’t built on being impressive.
It’s built on being honest.

And that little phrase — “I love you, brother” — that used to feel like a mountain to climb…
Now it rolls out easy. And every time I say it, something in me settles. Like a puzzle piece falling into place.

So if you’re waiting for the right moment — don’t.
The moment is now.
Pick up the phone. Crack open the safe.

Say it, dammit.