Leading the Way From He-Man’s Land : Relationships: Strong, silent types would have far more satisfying relationships if they could allow their soft side to show, says Laguna Beach therapist Steven Farmer, who has been there.

Bill Clinton’s election has put a lot of pressure on macho men . With a man in the White House who gives hugs as often as handshakes, gets teary-eyed at patriotic ceremonies and shares his power with his wife, there’s more demand than ever for men who are not only tough, but tender.

Clinton’s willingness to show his “strong feminine side” in the political arena has made male sensitivity a hot commodity in the world of romance, according to Laguna Beach therapist Steven Farmer, who recently led a workshop on “Men, Sex and Intimacy.”

It isn’t easy for men who’ve worshiped such warrior role models as John Wayne and Rambo to adopt Clinton’s brand of male magnetism, but strong, silent types would have far more satisfying relationships if they could allow their soft side to show, Farmer contends, adding that those who take the risk of shedding their emotional armor aren’t likely to miss it once they’ve experienced real intimacy.

One of the biggest hurdles facing men who are afraid to be open and vulnerable is their early conditioning.

Most men were raised with the idea that any sign of weakness would be used against them.

Farmer, who is 45, recalled a football practice in his high school days when his coach paired him off against a lineman--the biggest player on the team--and said, “Look him in the eye and hit him when the whistle blows.”

Farmer did as he was told, but the lineman didn’t even blink. Then the coach said to the lineman, “Show Steven how you want to be hit.”

“He hit me pretty damned hard, but I took it,” Farmer recalled. “It would have been a humiliation to show any pain at all.”

Men also learn stoicism from emotionally distant fathers, Farmer noted. In his book, “The Father Wound,” he pointed out that his own father’s remoteness taught him “that this was how to be a man.”

What Farmer learned about manhood in his youth became a barrier to fulfillment in his adult relationships, he said.

He explained in his book: “I’ve been through two marriages and several relationships and have found myself trapped in each one by my fear of getting too close and by my inability to let go of my rigid controls over my emotions.”

Farmer, who said his relationships have improved dramatically as he has opened up emotionally, told his workshop audience in Irvine that the business world’s emphasis on competing and winning rather than sharing and relating reinforces the idea that success depends on a man’s ability to be “numb, needless and isolated.”

“The very behaviors that are necessary for intimacy--openness, vulnerability, self-disclosure--would get us destroyed if regularly displayed in the corporate environment,” he said.

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One workshop participant pointed out that many of the men he’s met through work have been able to let down their guard only under the influence of alcohol.

Recalling a group with whom he used to socialize after work, he said, “They’d talk about their feelings when they were anesthetized. And the next morning, when they had sobered up, they’d apologize.”

Men who have become detached from their emotions are liable to use sex as a means of finding closeness, Farmer cautioned.

“We are taught not to feel, not to need ... but sex is fun. It’s a place where you can really let go. So we end up sexualizing a lot of our feelings and needs.”

In many cases, that means men are unable to make any distinction between sex and intimacy, Farmer said. If they feel a desire to be close to a woman, they interpret that as a signal to initiate sex. But sex doesn’t necessarily lead to intimacy, and the men who assume it will often end up feeling a “gnawing emptiness,” Farmer said.

Sex turned out to be a disappointing substitute for intimacy on many occasions for one workshop participant who said he went through a “promiscuous period” in his early 20s. “It was an attempt at getting a sense of closeness and belonging. But it never worked. I could never get past the sex,” he said.

Now nearing 50 and going through a divorce that he attributes partly to his inability to be “emotionally available,” the Orange County resident said he grew up in an unstable, sometimes violent home and learned to defend himself by cutting off his feelings. That became such a deeply ingrained habit that he carried it into his adult relationships.

“To avoid the pain of loss, it’s safer to not become attached or vulnerable,” he explained. “I’ve been called a robot in several significant relationships. Women say I seem distant, remote. I’ve been living out of my brain, and I’ve just recently started opening up more about my feelings. I’ve rediscovered the risk of that, but I feel more alive.”

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Bruce Belman agreed. The 50-year-old Buena Park resident, who attended Farmer’s workshop, defined intimacy as “a sense of real openness and trust with another person.”

When a woman says she wants more intimacy, she’s not asking for sex, he has learned. “She wants me to spend more time listening to her in a non-judgmental way, sharing my own feelings, both happy and sad, and being physically close without it having any sexual outcome.”

Belman, who teaches biology at Cal State Long Beach, said he wishes he’d figured that out a long time ago. He said his first marriage failed largely because he was unable to share his feelings. “I couldn’t hear what she was saying. She might as well have been speaking Swahili.”

Now that he has a better understanding of the nature of intimacy, he said he’s discovering with his second wife that it’s a great relief to be able to stop trying to live up to the “Marlboro man” stereotype. “It has relieved a lot of the pressure I felt to be sexually enough--to always be available and interested. Now I can be close to my wife, and it doesn’t have to have any sexual connotations at all.”

Belman said he really had to push himself to share his deepest feelings with his wife. He was afraid that any sign of weakness would drive her away. “It was hard to admit to being human,” he said.

Belman said that as he has become more intimate with his wife, he has also begun to seek a deeper level of sharing in his male friendships. Unfortunately, he said, he hasn’t found many men who are interested in talking about such matters as “what it’s like to be a human being in our culture and what really hurts us.” He said he thinks they’re afraid their manhood would somehow be threatened if they revealed their feelings, especially in the company of other men.

Farmer told his workshop audience that if men don’t separate sex from intimacy in their minds, the fear of homosexuality is liable to keep them from experiencing real closeness with other men. When male camaraderie gets below the surface, many men make the mistake of interpreting the warm feelings they have for each other as sexual stirrings, and “that’s very, very threatening,” Farmer said.

He says fewer men would be disturbed by the idea of having gays in the military if they could experience closeness without sexual overtones.

Belman said his ability to do that has enabled him to develop close friendships with gay men. “I was terrified before because I was afraid they’d make a pass at me,” he admitted. “Now I’m developing intimate relationships (with gay men), and it has nothing to do with sex.”

These friendships have broadened and enriched his life, he added. “My universe keeps getting bigger. That’s the greatest gift of being willing to be more open.”