I love being a guy. Just ask my wife, because I proclaim it all the time. Quick showers, urinals, girthy sandwiches. It’s a great way to live. But the flock of ladies in my house don’t seem dissatisfied with their lot in life either. Quite the contrary. And they share many a giggle at my stinky, hairy, and oafish expense.

One difference I’m regularly singled out for is being wholly deficient when it comes to feelings. Not for lack of trying. I’ve read multiple Brené Brown books, enjoyed a pedicure, and tried every confusingly labeled bottle my wife keeps in the shower. Still, my only improvement seems to be in the area of realizing when to shut it. Instead of digging further holes, I save my sound logic and perspective for a debrief much, much later.

As our lives together have changed with the seasons, one thing my ladies have been consistently better at is friends. They are way more adept at maintaining long-lasting relationships and finding new buddies. But I’ve been wondering a lot lately if, as usual, I’m the weird one, or if this is a widespread dude challenge.

So I started talking to guys. Once we had thrown back a few craft brews, compared smoked meat recipes, and established who could do the most push-ups, I’d casually ask about their circle of homies. I’d share my view on how connecting with other dudes, for me, had been a moving target since having kids. Heads nodded. Suspicions were confirmed, over and over again.

Simply put, we’re missing our bro time in a meaningful way. It’s not that we no longer like these people. The problem is that our grunts, farts, and physical comedy simply do not translate via a digital world. We’ve struggled to do much more than send text messages or holler at a friend on WhatsApp. The asynchronous ping pong of interacting with each other’s social media posts is far afield from looking a man in the eye and hearing how that Disney trip really went.

My buddy Fritz is the definition of an old soul. He wears analog watches, takes long walks with his dog, and slips casually into any setting. You will not find him staring into his phone. For years, Fritz has regularly called myself and others on the phone. It didn’t matter if you had another preferred medium. He wanted to hear your actual voice and catch up. If you attempted to move the conversation to text, he once again called you in response. Genius move now that I think about it.

I remember gatherings where all of us tech-enlightened bros would corner him and try to talk some sense into the guy. Embrace the future, for crying out loud! This would only spur him on with more calls, along with occasional voicemails to lovingly poke the bear. After being on the other side for many years, my idiot self finally connected the dots between having regular, meaningful conversations and having a better outlook on life.

Because of Fritz, I’ve started prioritizing longer catch-ups. I’m also getting those lunches on the calendar that were never followed through with. Whatever we want to call this trend of asynchronous chatter, I pledge to put it in its place. If a bot could do it, then what’s the point?

There’s also room for more dudes. Oh, I’ve definitely joked that I don’t need any more friends, but that’s frankly asinine. Macho fabrication. If the Chapman girls have taught me anything, it’s that having a myriad of acquaintances you can share hobbies, and interests, or just an occasional back porch with can be cathartic.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I can do better. You probably can too. Call your dudes and your lady dudes. Quit settling for emoji responses and holler at your peeps.