Why is Lincoln lonely?
The quiet desperation of a single gay man.
This is a time of year when writers write reflective pieces - columns and essays about the joy of spending time with others and the festive memories that have shaped who we have become today. You know the drill.
One of the Christmas reflections that caught my attention was written by Lincoln Richards - published by Instinct Magazine.
I don't know anything about Lincoln Richards - there's no author bio included with the piece and there doesn't seem to be any digital or social footprint. I'm guessing it's a pen-name. The only information available is what's presented in the article.
With the references to Grindr dates, being a single gay, and that images of guys were used to illustrate the article, we can assume that Lincoln identifies as a gay man.
Lincoln writes that he is unhappy.
"I’m depressed this holiday season, and I’m tired of pretending that a festive playlist, a stiff drink, or a forced smile is going to fix it."
Lincoln pinpoints two key factors at play in his unhappiness - he's single and he's immersed in a family Christmas.
Lincoln describes Christmas as:
"...a time of year that seems designed to spotlight exactly what I don’t have. The holidays have a way of turning every dinner table into a quiet scoreboard: who partnered up, who reproduced, who followed the expected script."
Whatever your relationship status, we can all relate to the frustrations that often accompany family-time. Sure, it's great to see the people you love, but families are complicated and there's lots of emotional baggage and behavioural patterns that we all have to navigate.
In a way, it's what adds to the frisson of the festive season - who's going to have a few too many Bailey's and really let everyone have it?
But Lincoln's singledom seems to weighing heavily on him. It's not only that he's not in a relationship of some kind but also that he's not actively dating.
"I haven’t had a date in years. Years. Not a bad date, not a “we didn’t click,” not even a story worth telling—just nothing."
It takes a minute to process that. Sure, there's various encounters we can define as "a date" but Lincoln seems to be anchoring his definition in the classic - "let's meet for a drink and get to know each other" kind of vibe. If that's the kind of date that you're looking for - and you're actively wanting to make that happen - it seems fairly significant that it's been "years" since you've been on a date.
Lincoln talks about his experience with dating apps - he references his frustration with the guys that message him on Grindr, how it feels transactional and joyless.
"If this is modern romance, I seem to have been quietly excluded from it."
Perhaps confusingly, Lincoln has friends - he describes how he listens to his friends who:
"...complain about being single while juggling two or three guys at once, recounting dates they’ve gone on."
On the face of it, the maths isn't mathing. Lincoln has family and friends but he feels depressed and lonely - he wants to be in a relationship but isn't going on any dates, he's not meeting anyone new. Where is everything going wrong for Lincoln?
The "male loneliness epidemic" is a buzzy term that everyone likes to throw around but it's possible that Lincoln is expressing what that feels like to the men who are the ostensible victims of that phenomenom. It's a lack of meaningful or authentic connection, it's a sense of being unseen and unheard, it's an absence of physical and emotional intimacy.
Why are men lonely? It's not as simple as pointing to toxic masculinity, misogyny, porn addiction, or online influencers - they're consequences, not causes. What we're seeing in men such as Lincoln are the outcomes of fundamental shifts in the way that we live - the rise of individualism, the dissolution of extended families, and the breakdown of communities. The male loneliness epidemic is an unintended consequence of capitalism.
How those consequences manifest is that needing others is seen as a weakness. Asking for help is seen as a weakness. We avoid interpersonal conflicts and in-person contact, we retreat into "safe" online spaces, and our anxieties shape our view of the world. We live by ourselves - we don't learn from the people who know us and care for us, we learn from online role-models that we've never met and who monetise our trauma.
How do we fix this? How do we make different choices? There's no easy solution.
My advice to Lincoln would be to get through Christmas and then make 2026 a year of self-discovery.
You need to reframe what intimacy means to you. Stop thinking about dating and relationships and start thinking about how you can connect authentically with other men. You've got to find your community - you've got to put the work in to create community around what matters to you.
What that could look like in practice is finding ways to step out of your comfort-zone, to meet new people, to try new things.
Be open to the world around you. Listen to podcasts. Join small group events. Approach everything with the intention to enjoy what you're doing. Be empathetic to others.
You may find therapy a useful starting point, or some life coaching - an objective voice can sometimes help us see ourselves from a different perspective.
Look for ways to add some intimate touch into your life - join a cuddle workshop, book a sensual massage, hire a sex-worker.
Breathe. Meditate. Join a yoga class. Sign up with a personal trainer. Find ways to connect with your body - to get comfortable with yourself.
The way that we live our lives may be the unintended consequence of forces much bigger than any of us, but we are not without agency. Life is too short to be feeling depressed and lonely - let's make 2026 the year where we put our energy into making authentic connections so that we can experience the physical and emotional intimacy that we're craving.
