Repetition feels safe because nothing pushes back, but safety often comes at the cost of growth.

Real experience requires risk—something that can respond, reject, or change you.

Avoidance often looks like routine, but routine can quietly limit a man’s life.

Growth begins the moment you choose engagement over control, even when it feels uncertain.

Dog meets fire hydrant vs dog meets another dog’s butt. It’s a strange way to start, I know. If that line made you uncomfortable, we’re already getting somewhere. Because in that image, you’re looking at two completely different ways of moving through life, and most people already know which one they are. They just don’t like the answer. But stay with me. You’ve seen the first one your entire life. A dog walks down the street, stops at the hydrant, it sniffs and circles, then marks the spot before it moves on. Nothing really happens, there’s no exchange, no risk, and definitely no surprises. Just the same behavior, repeated in different places.

Now, picture the other dog. This one meets another dog, and this time they stop, circle, and sniff. Something is happening; they engage with each other. There’s curiosity, there’s tension, and there’s a moment where either dog could move close or pull away. But it’s not controlled, nor is it predictable, but it’s alive. So, here’s my question: Which one are you? Most people don’t think they’re the hydrant dog. They think they’re engaged, busy, and handling things.

That’s why most people don’t like that question. Because if we’re honest, a lot of us live like the first dog. We move through our days marking the same emotional territory, having the same conversations, the same reactions, the same routines, with the same safe patterns. We show up, we perform, and we get through it. But nothing really touches us, and we don’t really touch anything either.

Why? Because the fire hydrant doesn’t respond. It doesn’t challenge or reject you. It also doesn’t require anything from you. But another dog? That’s a different story. Another dog might: push back, engage, walk away, or meet you fully. There’s uncertainty, and there’s risk. And because of that, there’s also possibility. The possibility that something can actually happen.

Real life works the same way. We can move through it like the fire hydrant dog, predictable, controlled, and untouched. We say the right things. We keep it light and stay in control. So, nothing gets messy, and nothing really happens. Or, we can meet and engage with something or someone. We can say what you’ve been holding back, and stay in the conversation when it gets uncomfortable. We let ourselves be seen, without immediately covering it up with a joke or some distraction. (Which, by the way, most people are skilled at Olympic levels.)

Avoidance doesn’t look dramatic. No one wakes up and says, “Today I will live a small, careful, emotionally risk-free life.” It’s quieter than that. It’s things like checking your phone mid-conversation, nodding when you don’t agree, making a joke right when things get real, or suddenly becoming very interested in “the game,” or “the weather,” or “anything but this.” It’s amazing how creative we get when honesty is about to cost us something. Or you can actually meet someone: Say what you’ve been holding back. Stay in the conversation when it gets uncomfortable. Let yourself be seen. Let something affect you.

Most people don’t avoid life in dramatic ways. It’s not some big moment where they decide to hide. It’s the checking your phone instead of finishing the conversation. Nodding when you don’t agree. Changing the subject just when something real starts to show up. Making a joke at the same moment, you could have said something honest. It’s amazing how creative we get when something might actually matter. We’ll talk about the weather, sports, politics, or anything, just not the things that might cost us something. Because the moment you step away from the hydrant and into the encounter, you lose control of how it goes. And most people would rather feel in control than feel something real.

Most men I work with aren’t broken. They’re just living at the level of the hydrant relationship. Either safe, contained or unchanged, while quietly wondering why life feels flat. Because here’s the truth: Nothing meaningful happens at the hydrant. Everything meaningful happens in the encounter. So, I’ll ask you again, Dog meets fire hydrant… or dog meets another dog’s butt? Not as a joke. Not as a metaphor. But as a real question about how you’re living.

Which one are you? Because that answer is already shaping your life. That answer will tell you more about your life than you might expect. If you’re not sure, check your last five conversations. That’s your hydrant.

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