It’s safe to say that everyone living on our entire planet has had a bad day.
Some more than others.
All the chaos in our world, our modern lives, political divisions and constant stress begs a question: Are we already infected monsters living in a dystopia today?
Some go further to describe society as hell on wheels.
We don’t necessarily need another global catastrophe to see the kind of masculinity that manifests itself when everything falls apart. We don’t even need some sort of physical wasteland.
You only have to look at the men around us who have been hardened by loss, shaped by survival and taught that vulnerability is a liability. There is a certain kind of masculinity that only reveals itself when everything falls apart – not the outside world, but a man’s inner world.
Even the stories of the post-fall world make these facts impossible to ignore. They strip away the polite layers of society and expose the raw, unrefined versions of men — those who believe that to protect is to stop, and to love is to suffer.
This includes “Joel”.
And all the people living in this kind of dystopian world Joel lives in are societies that have collapsed, are built on fascist governments, and only the most rudimentary versions of humanity remain.
Joel, an alpha male, went through a very traumatic event.
It made him 20 years later the man he is basically living today.
Anyway, I mentioned our endHit series based on video games. (spoilers ahead)
When it first came out, I watched it all.
The show was just so good.
Enduring a brutal life in post-epidemic America, infectious fungal viruses, cordyceps and all.
You don’t need to know the video game or the plot to understand the characters; Yet they are perfectly designed to reflect the different types of masculinity that we see every day in real life.
Post-apocalyptic
Joel Miller (played by Pedro Pascal), one of the central figures, a fictional character, goes through a very traumatic event as a father in the opening scene of the disaster – a sudden tragedy that kills his daughter “Sarah”, who is shot and dies in his arms.
It became his entire blueprint for his masculinity.
Calcified alpha
Instead of healing, it calcifies. His grief becomes armor. His silence becomes a trick. His jealousy turns to devotion. He convinces himself that morality is optional if he does it for someone he loves. But underneath all the killing and brutality is a man who is afraid to feel anything, because feeling means remembering everything he has lost.
You don’t need to know Joel to know him.
It exists in real life too.
He is a man who loves fiercely but expresses it through control. The man who closes and protects. That people believe in tenderness is a threat.
He is not cruel. He is injured. But the world rewards his stubbornness and punishes his tenderness, so he doubles down. He becomes emotionally bulletproof, even if it means losing himself completely.
Psychological wasteland of men
So here’s the uncomfortable question again: Are men already living in dystopias themselves?
Not with monsters or ruined cities, but a quiet decline — a decline of connection and emotional literacy. Navigating a world where loneliness is epidemic, friendships are wearing thin, purpose is unstable, and emotional expression is still governed by outdated expectations.
Many men think they are living, not living. They are not fighting infected animals, but they are fighting isolation, shame and the pressure to appear invincible. In that sense, dystopia isn’t fictional—it’s psychological. And men bear the brunt of it in silence.
Lone Wolf, the hyper-independent tough guy
Then, of course, there’s “Bill.”
Another character (Nick Offerman) in the same dystopian world, but a completely different expression of masculinity. Bill is the hyper-independent survivalist, a man who believes he needs absolutely no one. What he can do is amazing. On top of that, he is also cultured.
Bill fortifies an entire neighborhood, builds traps, stocks weapons and supplies, and prides himself on never needing anyone’s help. His masculinity is built on brutal competence, self-reliance and emotional distance. He doesn’t trust anyone. He doesn’t depend on anyone.
His outstanding bunker is not just physical; It’s psychological. Bill continues to hoard while quietly harboring a love of the finer things that he refuses to share with a world he distrusts.
He believes that relying on another person is the ultimate weakness.
But hyper-independence is trauma in disguise.
Men like Bill aren’t often strong—they’re scared. Fear of being hurt, abandoned or seen. Fear of needing someone who can’t be there. So they build walls, much like bunkers of bills instead of relationships, routines instead of intimacy, and castles instead of homes.
And then something unexpected happens: “Frank.”
Frank — A man who wanders into Bill’s life and slowly, gently, relentlessly breaks down the emotional concrete. Frank cooks for her, takes care of her, softens her. She shows Bill that connection is not dependence, weakness is not weakness, and love is not a liability.
Bill’s transformation is subtle but profound.
He goes from merely living to actually living.
Devotion from detachment.
“I don’t need anyone” to “I finally have something to protect.”
Piano Break
In one of the best scenes, when Frank starts humming Linda Ronstadt’s “Long, Long Time” on the piano, Bill, a very rugged-looking man, breaks down in tears. After they kiss, she finally becomes her weakest and most shy. It was an incredible emotional depth that he displayed.
Kinetics of power shift
His masculinity does not disappear – it develops significantly.
Evolution is actually very significant. A shift from stoicism to emotional courage. Connection from isolation. From self-defense to mutual protection. From survival to survival.
The strongest masculinity stories—fictional or real—find men discovering that strength isn’t measured by how much they can stand alone, but by who they’re willing to let go.
companion and lover
Frank and Bill are partners who live together in an abandoned, booby-trapped town.
Unfortunately, fate got the best of them. Frank later developed a degenerative neurological disease, choosing to end his life on his own terms rather than suffering. After Bill gives her one last perfect day, they honor their marriage and both men move in peacefully together.
Psychological hellscape
Dystopia is not a fictional wasteland filled with infected monsters; This is the current, real-world epidemic of male alienation. Modern men already struggle with a psychological apocalypse of loneliness, shame, and outdated expectations while trying to accomplish impotence.
The truth is, the world doesn’t need more tough male antiheroes or bunker-builders.
Our world does not need more men who confuse silence with strength or freedom with invulnerability. It needs men who can feel without alienating, men who can protect without destroying themselves, men who can love without fear.
The real apocalypse isn’t the collapse of society—it’s the collapse of connectivity.
And those who rebuild themselves learn that vulnerability is a form of courage, that love is a form of strength, and that letting someone in is the bravest act.
Modern men are already living the last lives among us
Joel had to lose his daughter to learn that he couldn’t lose anymore. Bill had to find Frank to learn that he didn’t want to die alone. Men don’t need an apocalypse. They just need to ask: What am I protecting and what is it costing me? The victims are not out. They are in the mirror. Kill the Calcified Alpha. Bury the survivalist. Let Frank in. Before your bunker becomes your tomb.
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