I’d been putting it off. For a while, actually. Longer than I’d like to admit.
Jason had been messaging me for weeks. He’d spotted me asking questions in the Andy’s Man Club Facebook groups and kindly offered to take me along. No pressure. Just a genuine offer from a bloke I’d never met.
And still, I kept finding reasons not to go.
Recently, finally, I went.
The anxiety I’d built up beforehand? Completely unnecessary. Embarrassingly so, looking back. The minute I walked in, something just… settled.
Adam, one of the lads there, clocked that I was new. Straight away, before I’d even figured out where to put myself, he told me where to sit in the circle so I’d get a feel for how it works before the ball came to me. That ball is what gets passed around, and whoever holds it gets their time to speak. You don’t have to. But you can.
And that matters more than you’d think.
What got me wasn’t the format. It was the room. Blokes from completely different walks of life, all sat in the same circle. Business owners. Grafters. Lads who are having a genuinely rough time. All of them there for the same reason, even if they couldn’t quite name it.
And when someone spoke, everyone listened. Not politely waiting their turn, not half-listening while they planned what to say next.
Actually listened.
Nobody was ranked. Nobody’s problems were more important than anyone else’s.
When the ball reached me on Question 3, which is the open one, anything you want to get off your chest, I spoke. I hadn’t planned to. I ended up going on about our dogs. They’re getting old, and it’s been sitting heavy on me. I got a bit teary. In a room full of blokes I’d never met before.
And the whole circle just listened.
No advice. No “have you tried…” or “well, at least…” Just a room of people giving me their full attention for a few minutes. That was it. That was enough.
By nine o’clock, when I left, I felt like I’d just spent a couple of hours with mates. Not new acquaintances I’d have to warm up to over months. Mates.
I’m gutted I waited so long. I genuinely am.
If you’ve been hovering around the idea of going, asking questions in the groups, telling yourself you’ll go next week, I get it. The anxiety is real. But so is what’s waiting for you on the other side of that door.
Now I understand why blokes rave about it.
A note, because this stuff matters
I’m writing this, and you’re reading it. That’s something.
If you’ve been carrying things around quietly, if you’ve convinced yourself that talking about it isn’t really for you, that’s okay. A lot of blokes feel that way. I did too. But I sat in that circle, I held that ball, and I said something out loud that I hadn’t said to anyone. And the world didn’t end.
I’m still here. And so are you.
If you want to find your nearest Andy’s Man Club, head to andysmanclub.co.uk. Free. Every Monday, 7pm. (Not bank holidays.)
This is part of an ongoing series of posts where I revisit thoughts, notes, and moments from my past – some difficult, some surprising, a few I’d rather forget. If something here landed for you, have a look at some of the other posts in the nostalgia series.