To be honest, men don’t spend a lot of time talking about their mother’s love. Truth is, the first things we learn about love come from our mothers and although men don’t want to admit it, their present-day approach to love was definitely learned from their moms. To prove this theory right, we talked to a few men.
Here’s what they say about what they learned about love from their mothers:
Material Things Don’t Matter
“My mom’s wedding ring is a tiny thing, cloudy and tarnished, and not exactly what anyone would call bling these days. But at the time, when my parents were both just starting out life in their early 20s, it was the only thing that my dad could afford. So he bought it, and she said yes before he could even finish asking her to marry him.
Years later, after working multiple jobs, enlisting in the reserves, and raising a growing family on a farm in the middle of rural West Virginia, Dad had done well for himself. He had a great government job and made quite a bit more money than he did all those years ago when he was working as a janitor and sleeping on a cot to put himself through college. Now successful, Dad asked Mom if he could buy her a new, more impressive ring. She balked. As modest as it was, this was the ring he bought her, and this is the ring she will die wearing.”
“What this symbolized far superseded in importance any amount of carats or sparkle a new ring might have. In three years, they’ll celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. So that’s what my mom taught me about love—that material things don’t mean a damn thing in the end.”—Andrew D.
Mutual Appreciation Makes All the Difference
“What I learned from my mom was much less something I can put on paper; I learned from her by watching her reactions to the cute, romantic (often nauseatingly so) gestures my dad would do. She’ll roll her eyes and get embarrassed, but she loves him for it.
From the small things (like frequent-yet-still-meaningful flowers) to the big things (like surprise parties), my dad truly enjoys the things that delight her. Seeing her happy and appreciative made me realize that’s the kind of man/boyfriend/husband I wanted to be. It made me want to be the guy all the other women compared theirs to and made me realize the kind of woman I would want to find.”—Kevin A.
Love Is Selfless
“My mom was an elementary school nurse. She died suddenly of an aneurysm when I was 18, and for months afterward, I remember one thing that helped me cope was reading the emails that poured in from former classmates who remembered all the time they had spent in her office.
What most people don’t realize about elementary school nurses is that half the kids who say they need to see the nurse aren’t really sick. They’re just scared, or lonely, or bored, or confused about this new place where bald gym teachers in knee socks force you to play Red Rover. It took a tremendous amount of intuition on her part to tell which kids actually needed Advil and Robitussin. The rest got a saltine cracker, a spoonful of Coca Cola-flavored syrup—the placebo effect is strong—and a hug.”
“Other details were just as telling: She kept trunks full of old clothes for the kids who’d had ‘accidents.’ When a kid lost a tooth, she gave him a small plastic treasure chest to store it in and leave for the tooth fairy. I could go on.”
“Dozens and dozens of people wrote to me with stories like those—how she was always there to hear their problems, find a way to solve them, and leave them feeling better. This had been a rare thing for them, and I realized then how lucky I’d been to soak it up every single day of my childhood. My mom went to bed every night knowing that she’d made life better for a lot of people—her family, her friends, and her students. And the whole time, she expected nothing in return. That’s about as pure an expression of love as I know. “ —Mike D.
Always Give It a Second Shot
“My mom’s story of how she met my dad reminds me that opposites attract. It was a sweltering summer night, and they were at an Israeli folk dance at Columbia University. There was no air-conditioning and my mom was hogging the fan. My dad approached her and politely asked for a turn, and she offered some side eye and refused to give it up. She was waiting forever for that fan, she said. A docile person, my dad said okay. But he was attracted to her ‘stand my ground’ attitude. He returned sometime later and asked her to dance, and she thought his politeness was endearing. Years later, here I am.”—Danny S.