The Fictional Man

“These dramas are creating unrealistic expectations.” “Men like that don't exist. “Those characters are fictional.” And every time I hear this, I genuinely wonder—Why do we assume they are fictional? And why do they have to be? What exactly are these men doing that makes them so unrealistic? They are emotionally mature. They are deeply loving and loyal. They are protective without being controlling. They are masculine without constantly trying to prove that they are masculine.

They listen. They notice. They remember. They take responsibility. They work hard. They know what they want. And most importantly, they know how to create emotional intimacy with the woman they love. They don't just desire her body, They know how to reach her heart. And somehow, we have reached a point where this is called fiction. But isn't this what a relationship is supposed to be? When did love become unrealistic? Let's leave Asian dramas aside for a moment.

What about The Fault in Our Stars? Titanic? The Notebook? What about romantic films in every language that have existed for decades? We keep watching stories where a man loves deeply, chooses someone, takes a risk, protects her, notices her, desires her and allows himself to be vulnerable. Nobody seems to be running around saying, “These movies are creating unrealistic expectations of women.” But the moment a man is emotionally available, attentive, devoted and intentional,

fictional. Why? And then there is music. How many songs have described women beautifully? Her eyes. Her smile. Her voice. Her hair. Her walk. Her tenderness. Her strength. Her presence. Telugu is my mother tongue. I grew up watching Telugu cinema, listening to Telugu music and hearing men express their love through poetry. And honestly, I have rarely heard anything more beautiful. There is a very particular way in which a man in love is portrayed in some Telugu and South Indian films—not just as someone who wants a woman, but as someone completely moved by her existence.

Her eyes become poetry. Her presence becomes music. Her voice becomes something he remembers. Her beauty becomes something he wants to describe rather than simply possess. And when a man genuinely expresses his love through a poem or a song, there is something incredibly tender about it. The words don't merely say “I want you.” They say, “I see you.” “I am moved by you.” “Your existence has changed something inside me.”

That kind of expression is one of the most beautiful things our cinema and music have given us. Of course, our own stories have also carried deeply patriarchal ideas and sometimes very problematic forms of male dominance. I am not romanticising all of it. But look at the other side. In some of the most beautiful love stories, the same culture has shown men who are intensely drawn to women, who admire them, who surrender to love, who write poetry about them, who sing about them and who are completely transformed by their presence.

And tell me—how is that fundamentally different from what people call “fictional men” in Korean or Chinese dramas? It isn't. We have been creating these men in our own language, our own music and our own cinema for generations. We just don't seem to notice the contradiction. We accept the poetry. We accept the songs. We accept the romantic hero. We accept a man describing a woman as if she is the most beautiful thing he has ever encountered.

But when another culture gives us a man who expresses that love through emotional intimacy, loyalty, attentiveness and tenderness, suddenly we say: “That's unrealistic.” Maybe we should ask ourselves why. So why is it suddenly a problem when a story describes a man who knows how to love a woman beautifully? The strange double standard of fiction A man can watch a violent movie and imagine himself as the hero. He can admire the aggression, the dominance, the fearlessness, the power.

He can walk out of the theatre feeling like he is going to protect the entire world. He can imitate the attitude, the walk, the language, the confidence. He also would want to build his body and change his attire like the hero... Nobody says, “This is creating unrealistic expectations of men.” Apparently fictional aggression can inspire us, Fictional courage can inspire us, Fictional power can inspire us. But fictional tenderness? Emotional intelligence? Devotion? Responsibility?

Suddenly— “That's not realistic.” Why? If a fictional character can make someone want to become more courageous, ambitious or powerful, why can't another character make someone want to become more loving, mature and responsible?

Maybe the problem is the work required to become the person that character represents. So what should a man actually work on? This is where I think the conversation should go. Instead of arguing about whether these men are fictional, ask: What would it actually take for a man to become this kind of man? And honestly, it isn't complicated. But it isn't easy either. 1. Take responsibility for yourself. Understand your childhood. Understand your past. Understand why you behave the way you do.

Your childhood may explain some of your patterns. Your past relationships may explain some of your fears. But at some point you have to say, “Okay. This is mine now. I have to work on it.” Look at where you blame others. Where you avoid difficult conversations. Where you don't keep your word. Where you expect someone else to manage your emotions, your life or your problems. Your wounds may explain you. They don't have to govern you.

2. Learn your own emotions. Not just “I'm angry.” Ask yourself what is underneath it. Am I hurt? Rejected? Insecure? Jealous Embarrassed? Afraid? Can I sit with what I'm feeling without immediately making someone else suffer because I am feeling it? Can I communicate it without shouting, disappearing, manipulating or becoming cold? This is work. And yes, sometimes you may need therapy. Sometimes you may need meditation, journaling, honest conversations, or simply the courage to sit alone with yourself long enough to actually see what is going on inside you.

What did you learn about love when you were young? Did you learn that love has to be earned? That vulnerability is weakness? That affection comes with conditions? That you have to control people to keep them?

You don't have to spend the rest of your life blaming your parents for everything. Understand what happened. Take what is useful. And decide what ends with you. Take care of your body. Exercise. Sleep properly. Eat properly. Take care of yourself. 3. Build strength. Not because looking good will make you worthy of love. But because there is something very powerful about being able to tell yourself: “I said I would do this, and I did it.”

That slowly changes the relationship you have with yourself. Become financially responsible. A man doesn't have to be rich to deserve love. But he should be responsible for his life. Work, Develop skills, Earn, Save, Understand money. Build something.

And there is another part of this that I think we don't talk about enough. Women earn today. Women build careers. Women build businesses. Women create things. And that's wonderful. But I don't think a woman's earning should ever become a compulsory condition for her survival in a relationship. If she wants to work, beautiful. If she wants to build a business, beautiful. If she wants to study, create art, explore something she loves, raise children, take care of a home, or spend a period of her life nurturing another part of herself—beautiful.

And a man should aspire to enough financial stability that if one day she wants to choose something other than earning an income, she doesn't have to be afraid of what will happen to her. Not because she must depend on him. But because she can, if that is what she genuinely chooses. And if she wants to work and be financially independent, he shouldn't feel threatened by that either. Financial stability should create freedom. Not control.

You don't have to win every argument. You don't have to control a woman to feel like a man. You don't have to constantly prove that you are powerful. Learn to be decisive without becoming controlling. Protect without possessing. Stand up for yourself without becoming arrogant. Be strong without becoming threatening. Because when you are actually secure within yourself, you don't have to keep performing your masculinity for everyone around you.

Have a life. Please. Don't make a woman your entire reason for existing. Have something you care about. Like a goal. Your work. Your craft. Your spiritual practice or business, Your learning. Your life.

A woman should be able to enter your life. She shouldn't have to become the thing that gives your life meaning. 4. Learn to notice. This is one of the simplest things and yet one of the most beautiful forms of intimacy. Notice when she's unusually quiet. Remember what excites her. Remember what she said three months ago.

Notice when she's pretending she's okay. Not because you are collecting points. Because you are actually paying attention to the person you love. How can you deeply love someone you barely observe? Become dependable. If you say you'll call, call. If you say you'll do something, do it. If you cannot, say so.

I think there is something deeply attractive about knowing that someone will simply show up. Not because you had to ask ten times, Not because there was a fight, Not because they are trying to impress you! Just because they said they would. 5. Learn how to handle conflict. Don't disappear every time something becomes uncomfortable. Don't threaten to leave every time you are challenged. Don't weaponise silence. Don't use someone's deepest vulnerability against them just because you know exactly where it hurts.

“I don't know how to handle this right now. Give me some time. But I'm not abandoning this conversation.” That is very different from running away. 6. Learn tenderness. This is where I think the whole conversation about these “fictional men” becomes interesting. Don't learn romance as a performance. Develop enough sensitivity to actually know how to hold another person. Know when she needs space, when she needs an embrace, when she needs you to speak.

A woman can be incredibly strong in the world and still become soft in the presence of a man she deeply trusts. Not because she is weak. Because she finally feels safe enough not to be strong all the time. And if you are strong, truly strong, you should know how to hold that softness.

A dog can carry an egg in its mouth without breaking it. It can hold something delicate without destroying it. That is the kind of strength I understand. Not just the ability to hold something tightly. The ability to hold something without hurting it. That isn't weakness. That is strength with consciousness. 6. And develop some depth beyond yourself. Have some relationship with existence itself. Meditation. Yoga. Nature. Reading. Silence. Spiritual practice.

Whatever takes you a little beyond your compulsive identity. Because eventually you have to ask yourself: Who am I when nobody is watching? Who am I when nobody is applauding? Who am I when there is nothing to prove? That question can change a person. And don't do any of this just to get a woman. This is important. Don't exercise because you want women to find you attractive. Don't earn money just to impress someone. Don't learn emotional intelligence as a technique to get into a relationship.

Don't become “nice” because you are secretly expecting something in return. Work on yourself because you want to become better. Build your life. Build your centre. Build your spine. Build your heart. Become someone who has something beautiful to offer another human being. Then when love comes, you aren't arriving empty and asking someone else to complete you. You are arriving with something of your own. And perhaps that is when the “fictional man” becomes real.

Not because he learned how to behave like a character in a drama. But because those qualities have become part of who he is. So, are these men fictional? Of course the characters are fictional. A writer created them. An actor portrayed them. A director shaped their story. But the qualities they represent aren't fictional. Love isn't fictional. Loyalty isn't fictional. Emotional intimacy isn't fictional. Responsibility isn't fictional. Tenderness isn't fictional. Maturity isn't fictional.

A man choosing to become better isn't fictional. These things exist. They simply require human beings who are willing to cultivate them. And maybe that is the uncomfortable part. The problem isn't that these men are impossible. The problem is that becoming that kind of person requires work. So when a man says, “Men aren't like that.” Men you see exist only in those series". Maybe he's right about himself. But he doesn't get to decide that for every man.

Because somewhere between the fictional hero and the man standing in front of us is a choice. He can remain exactly as he is Or he can work on himself until the qualities he once called fictional begin to exist through him. And perhaps that's what a good love story is actually supposed to do. Not give us an impossible man to dream about. But remind us of the kind of human being we could become. So no, I don't want to lower my standards because someone tells me the man I see on screen is fictional.

I would rather ask why we have decided that the qualities he represents should remain fictional. If you want to be deeply loved, desired, respected and cherished— don't ask someone to lower their standards. Rise to them. And maybe then, the story doesn't need a script anymore.