The Masculine Balancing Act of Staying and Leaving, By John Steele

In a recent viral tweet, men were asked to name their deepest urges. Responses ranged from conquering challenges to pulling off daring heists, but Paul Skallas, in his Lindy Newsletter essay, The Masculine Urge to Walk Away (September 6, 2025), zeroes in on a primal impulse often left unsaid: the urge to walk away. It's the restless pull to step out of a job, a relationship, a hometown, or even one's entire life, vanishing into the horizon. Skallas argues this urge is universal among men, yet suppressed by societal narratives that frame leaving as cowardice or delusion. He suggests that, when channelled strategically, walking away is a source of power, granting leverage in negotiations, relationships, and creative pursuits. But there's a counterpoint just as vital: the masculine urge to stand one's ground. Both impulses, to leave and to stay, form a dynamic tension at the heart of masculinity, and true strength lies in mastering their interplay.

The Urge to Walk Away

Skallas describes the urge to walk away as "primal, volcanic, and dangerous." It's the fantasy you feel when the plane takes off, a sudden desire to escape the life you've built. It's not about cowardice; it's about autonomy, the need to reclaim control in a world that often feels like a gilded cage. Success doesn't dull this urge; sometimes, it sharpens it. The more you achieve, the more you sense the weight of expectations, making the open road, or the empty horizon, call louder.

Yet, society tames this instinct. Skallas points to two narratives that keep men in place: the cowardice frame ("winners never quit") and the delusion frame ("the grass is always greener"). Religion once reinforced this with threats of excommunication or divine punishment for apostasy. Today, secular culture does the job with sports movies glorifying grit and proverbs dismissing discontent as faulty perception. Admitting you want to leave risks blowing up your life, try telling your spouse or boss you dream of disappearing, and see how that goes. So, men stay silent, learning to suppress the urge for the sake of stability, mortgages, and social order.

But Skallas argues this urge shouldn't be fully tamed. It's a source of power when wielded wisely. In negotiations, the one who can walk away holds the upper hand. In dating, the less desperate partner draws more interest. In creative work, knowing when to stop, leaving the canvas or laptop alone, prevents overworked, bloated results. The Stoics understood this: Seneca wrote of walking away from wealth or status with a calm mind, not out of rejection, but to prove you could thrive without them. Freedom lies in optionality.

The Urge to Stand One's Ground

Yet, there's another masculine urge, equally primal: to stand one's ground. This is the drive to hold fast, to endure, to face the storm head-on. It's Achilles in The Iliad, choosing a short, glorious life over a long, quiet one, or Hector, fighting for Troy despite knowing defeat is near. It's not about stubbornness, but about duty, honour, and resilience. In modern life, it's the man who stays in a tough marriage to rebuild trust, persists through career setbacks for long-term growth, or defends a principle against backlash. This urge builds trust and anchors society; families rely on it, communities depend on it.

Standing one's ground is celebrated as heroism. War memorials honour those who held the line, the ANZACs being an example. Underdog sports stories glorify the team that refuses to quit. This impulse isn't about blind defiance; it's about disciplined commitment to what matters, whether it's family, values, or purpose.

The Ancient Dance: The Iliad and The Odyssey

The tension between these urges is ancient, etched into the Western canon. The Iliad and The Odyssey, as Skallas notes, are paired meditations on masculinity, one about staying, the other about leaving. In The Iliad, Achilles and Hector embody the urge to stand their ground. Achilles knows he'll die young if he stays at Troy, yet he chooses glory over safety. Hector fights for a doomed city, bound by duty to his people. Their heroism lies in their refusal to walk away, even at the cost of their lives.

In contrast, The Odyssey is a masterclass in strategic disengagement. Odysseus survives by walking away, outwitting the Cyclops, leaving Circe's paradise, rejecting Calypso's offer of immortality. His power comes from his ability to evade traps, from the Lotus-Eaters' haze to the Sirens' song. Yet, his withdrawals serve a deeper commitment: returning to Ithaca, to his wife and son. Odysseus stands his ground by choosing to leave, his every escape a step toward home. His masculinity blends both urges, knowing when to fight and when to slip away.

Modern Parables: No Country for Old Men

This duality reappears in modern stories. Skallas highlights Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men as a parable of staying versus leaving. Llewelyn Moss finds a briefcase of drug money and can't walk away, entangled by pride and greed. His choice to stay in the game leads to his death. Anton Chigurh, the psychopathic killer, embodies radical optionality. He kills or spares, takes or leaves, with no attachment to outcomes. His coin tosses symbolise his unbound freedom, he holds power because he can walk away from anything. Yet, his inhumanity reveals the cost of absolute detachment.

Sheriff Bell, the story's moral centre, represents standing one's ground. He grapples with a violent, changing world, but persists in his duty as a lawman. His weariness isn't weakness; it's the weight of commitment. Unlike Chigurh's cold freedom, Bell's grounded resolve reflects a masculinity that endures for the sake of others.

Mastering the Balance

Neither urge, walking away nor standing one's ground, is inherently superior. Their power lies in their balance. Walking away without discernment becomes cowardice or apathy; standing one's ground without wisdom turns into stubbornness or martyrdom. The masculine challenge is knowing when to employ each.

In negotiations, walking away signals strength, but standing firm on key terms earns respect. A man who can do both commands the table.

In relationships, leaving a toxic dynamic preserves self-respect, but staying to rebuild trust can forge deeper bonds. The one who could leave but chooses to stay holds quiet authority.

In creative work, Skallas' point about stopping at the right moment is key, but standing one's ground against self-doubt or criticism often yields breakthroughs. The best artists know when to pause and when to push through.

In life, the freedom to walk away fuels confidence to stay. A man who knows he can leave, a job, a city, a relationship, stays because he wants to, not because he has to. Conversely, the resolve to stay sharpens the wisdom to know when leaving is the only path.

The Masculine Ideal

Society needs both urges to function. The urge to walk away keeps systems honest, preventing men from becoming trapped in unfulfilling roles. It's a check against complacency, a reminder that life is a choice. But the urge to stand one's ground builds the world, families, institutions, and legacies depend on men who stay the course. Together, they form a dynamic equilibrium, a dance of autonomy and duty.

Odysseus is the ultimate model. He walks away from temptations but stands his ground for Ithaca. His journey proves that masculinity isn't about choosing one urge over the other but about wielding both with wisdom. The modern man faces the same challenge: to know when to leave the cubicle and when to fight for the promotion, when to end a relationship and when to stay and rebuild, when to retreat and when to charge.Keeny Rogers' song The Gambler sums this up:

"If you're gonna play the game, boy, you gotta learn to play it right"

[Chorus]
You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away and know when to run
You never count your money when you're sittin' at the table
There'll be time enough for countin' when the dealing's done

[Verse 4]
Every gambler knows that the secret to survivin'
Is knowin' what to throw away and knowing what to keep
'Cause every hand's a winner and every hand's a loser
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.

Conclusion

The masculine urge to walk away is a primal force, a volcanic call for freedom. But the urge to stand one's ground is its equal, a disciplined stand for purpose and duty. Skallas is right that walking away, when strategic, is empowering, but standing one's ground is no less masculine; it's the backbone of heroism, trust, and progress. The art of masculinity lies in navigating this tension, deploying each urge with clarity and intent. Like Odysseus, the complete man is both the wanderer and the warrior, leaving when he must and staying when it matters.

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