Why “Life Got in the Way” Is the Worst Excuse for Losing Friends

My dad is well-liked. Growing up, whenever I went anywhere with him — a room, a bar, a store — they’d light up. I loved going places with him because people would smile when he walked in. He was the opposite of anti-social. He had four kids, a complicated marriage, and a high-pressure job on Wall Street. He had childhood friends who’d show up for holidays and such, but one day, I thought about it and asked: Where are all your friends now?

Thinking about that question now, it probably hurt his feelings. He replied, Well, Matty, life got in the way.

What a messed-up sentence that is. I was too young to understand what he meant at the time, but I certainly do now — because I’ve heard a lot of adults use this phrase. If life gets in the way of you living an essential part of your life, well, that’s just downright counterproductive.

It was peculiar to me. He was well-liked, kind, funny, and generous. Yet, aside from his children, his wife, and the men he shared a desk with in Lower Manhattan, he was essentially justifying not having close male friends as a middle-aged man. Why? Because he’d settled down and focused on family. Valiant? Yes. Responsible? Sure.

But I think the responsibility starts with taking care of your needs so you can show up peacefully in the lives of others.

His answer about life getting in the way stuck with me as a boy. Why? Because close friendships are the most important thing to me. Aside from my child — but I count that in the same sentiment. He’s my best mate. He can be an asshole, but so can I — and that’s what makes us unconditional.

I guess I was just wired a little differently. As other guys were hitting the bars in their 20s to pick people up, I just wanted to slam brewskis, laugh, and eat wings with my crew. I mean, there’s nothing better. Going to the beach, listening to classic rock, talking about existence — a core group of good friends is a philosophical hotbed of awesomeness.

Even today, if I had the means to do anything, I’d travel around the country, visit each of my boys, find the crappiest dive bar nearby, and uncover some truths with them. There’s magic in those moments — raw, unfiltered connection.

I decided long ago not to let life get in the way. Instead, I chose to incorporate life into my living. And I think that’s the primary distinction between adolescence and adulthood — we separate those things. But why should we? Why not blur the line?

So, what’s the point, Matty? You’re asking.

The point is this: If this is my life’s ethos, how do I share it?

I’m glad you asked. It’s this deck. The Journey Deck. This isn’t a sales pitch — it’s the materialization of that ethos. Created with my boys, it’s a tool to help men everywhere reconnect life and living. All it takes is a card, a conversation, and a moment.

Real friendship never dies, and new friends are everywhere. Let’s chat, dude. There’s a bar, a fire, a backyard with our names on it. I’ll warm up the grill. You stop at 7-Eleven. Don’t forget the kettle chips.

Best,
Matty McManus