Are There Really Any Good Men?

Being a good man means practicing steady ethical conduct, showing compassion, and working toward self-improvement. Real goodness isn't determined by recognition or authority, but by your treatment of others—particularly those unable to return your kindness. A good man exhibits bravery, modesty, and dedication to serving others while preserving his own integrity.

Growing up as a teenage girl in the 1980s meant accepting that 'boys will be boys' excused virtually any misbehavior without accountability. We tolerated it silently because no one would stand up for us—not even our own parents.

I was 17 when I went to see a movie with a group of friends and acquaintances. Several of us had left our cars at work, so we carpooled to enjoy music and conversation during the drive. When we returned to collect our vehicles, people lingered—exchanging goodbyes, finishing conversations, and gradually dispersing. I didn't realize everyone had gone except for one guy from our group and me.

I'm uncertain exactly when or how he positioned himself so close, but I vividly remember being shoved into my car as he attempted to force himself on top of me. This wasn't my first experience with unwanted advances, but it was the first time it came from someone I barely knew. Terror flooded through me, triggering my instinctive fight response. Four decades later, those feelings still surface whenever I recall or discuss what happened. He only managed to get close enough for me to drive my heel into his chest and push him away with all my strength. When he fell backward, I scrambled into my car, locked the doors, and drove away.

Most of my friends and family have never heard this account. Not because I carried shame or guilt, but because such incidents were common.

I'm sharing this story to acknowledge my good man—or in my case, good men, big shout-out to them. My attacker wasn't satisfied with his failed attempt, so he kept coming back. I was a high school senior working evening shifts, and I usually left around 11 p.m. One night, I spotted a van parked beside mine and asked a couple of coworkers to walk me out. (These guys weren't just my coworkers; they were also seniors at my high school.) As we approached my car, they noticed this man staring intensely at me, and he drove off as we got closer. When they asked what was going on, I explained. They promised that whether they were working or not, they'd escort me to my car after every shift if no one else was available.

The man returned for several shifts—not consistently, probably hoping to catch me off guard. Honestly, there was nothing I could do about it. Stalking laws didn't exist back then, and there were no charges to file because, as I'd learned at thirteen, if someone doesn't complete an assault, the law considers it harmless.

After a few weeks, he stopped coming. But I was still scared, worried it was a setup to lower my guard before he'd return. I shared this fear with Darryl, and he told me straight up: he knows better than to show his face here again. When I asked how he could be sure, he said, "Me and Reggie had a conversation with him."

Turns out my two coworkers, fellow students, and football player friends confronted him during their break. They found his vehicle, pulled him out, and threatened him that if he ever looked at me again, they'd beat him senseless and dump him in the swamps for the alligators. I never saw him again. Darryl and Reggie made it their mission to walk me to my car whenever they worked, and they made sure all the other guys there understood that the other female co-workers needed to be escorted out, threat or no threat.

So in answer to the question, "Are there really any good men?", the answer is a definitive YES. Not the kind that simply don't do bad things, but the ones that don't allow bad things to happen.