The WAL

I’m an emotional sap.

Most men are, but we try not to prove it in public or while anyone else might be watching. Society also teaches men that we’re allowed only a limited range of emotional response and feeling. Bullshit, of course, but still more or less part of the code.

A few days ago, I was up a little later than I should have been, lying in bed channel surfing. My biological weapon delivery systems children have given me a cold. When I’m sick, I tend to have an easier time staying asleep but a harder time getting there in the first place. But I digress.

While channel surfing in bed, I came across “Armageddon” as they were about to board the shuttles. I hadn’t planned to watch the rest of the movie, just flash back for a couple of funny bits and Bruce Willis’ death scene. I like Bruce Willis, mostly, but always enjoy it when a big name buys it, even if it’s at the end. I feel the same way about Emilio Estevez – not that he’s a big name any more – biting it in the first couple of minutes of the original Mission Impossible movie. Of course, that’s where I stop watching in that case. Tom Cruise annoys me.

Again, I hadn’t planned to watch the rest of the movie, but I did. Lack of anything else on? Partly. Cold medicine induced laziness? Well, laziness anyway since I hadn’t actually taken any cold medicine. At any rate, near the end of the movie, Liv Tyler and Bruce Willis are saying their final farewells before (spoiler alert) he presses the button and dies a fiery nuclear death saving the world. I start to tear up. Really.

And it went on for a while, right up until the final brilliant explosion. I never actually cried - certainly not allowed unless an object has been driven through part of your body or someone close to you has just died - but I was gripped in the emotions of the moment. And no, there was no eye moisture for the homecoming or the wedding scene, although I distinctly remember a sappy smile at the latter.

I do wonder if it’s something to do with fatherhood. I remember seeing this movie in the theatre way back when and wasn’t particularly moved. It had some entertaining moments and a few fun action sequences, but the movie didn’t stand out for me. My oldest child hadn’t been born yet, although he was at the theatre in utero.

Things didn’t get to me back then, but I react to a lot more now. While the society that built me said that men don’t cry, it was certainly okay to wipe away a manly tear in extreme circumstances. Extreme just isn’t what it used to be. Any time I can suspend my disbelief long enough to put myself in the shoes of a father in an emotional situation, a manly tear or two may result.

And that’s okay.

And I still check my kids each night to see if they’re breathing, too. It’s a dad thing.