MetaPhysique Weekly #017: Competitiveness and Masculinity

The Irony of Competitiveness

In Western culture, competitiveness is often tied directly to masculinity. Men have always had to compete—first for resources and survival, and later in sports, business, and for social status.

On the surface, being competitive looks like strength. But here’s the irony: hyper-competitiveness is one of the loudest signs of insecurity.

When a man has to prove he’s “the best” at everything, all anyone else can see is his clear lack of confidence.

Why Competitiveness Still Matters

That doesn’t mean competitiveness is bad. Our survival has always depended on it. Drive and ambition are desirable traits in a man because they signal he can provide, protect, and push forward.

But, like most things, the cultural pendulum swings too far. Many men take their competitive nature past the point of serving them.

Instead of being a source of growth, it becomes performative. Instead of building them up, it keeps them small.

The Trap of Winning at All Costs

If you only compete in arenas where you’re already strong—if you never put yourself in a position to lose, to be new, to suck at something—you cut yourself off from growth.

Worse, you drain your confidence.

Confidence doesn’t come from winning.

If you’ve created a plan, executed that plan, and stuck with the process, you can be at peace letting the chips fall where they may.

Because here’s the truth: most of the time, things won’t go your way. 

You’ll lose more often than you win.

And so, many men shrink. 

They play small in business. 

They avoid new skills or hobbies. 

They never surround themselves with men who challenge them to grow. 

Because deep down, they fear what happens if they’re out of their depth.

Jiu Jitsu Story

I see this all the time when the dad group starts talking about jiu jitsu.

The guys who train know how humbling it is. They know you’re going to show up and lose—a lot—for years. And every one of them who sticks with it is glad they went through it. Not because they never get submitted anymore, but because they realize that getting tapped out isn’t a big deal at all.

Then there are the guys on the other side of the conversation. They want to get on the mats, but their ego won’t let them. The thought of putting on a white belt and being the new guy feels like too much of a status drop.

The irony is this: the status you think you’ll lose is already gone if you’re too scared to play.

Growth only happens on the mat.

The sidelines offer nothing.

And look, I know not everyone cares about jiu jitsu—but the point is the same.

If your ego keeps you from being a beginner, you’ll never grow at anything.

The sidelines are always a lower status position than actually being in the game.

Losing Is the Path to Winning

Here’s the paradox: losing is actually the path to winning.

In order to be good at anything, you have to first suck at it. If you can allow yourself to be bad without harsh judgment, you give yourself the chance to get reps in—and eventually get good.

Whose Scoreboard Are You Playing On?

Whose scoreboard are you really playing on?

Getting good at anything requires growth—and growth means pain, effort, and awkwardness. If you’re stuck, it’s usually because that pain isn’t connected to a scoreboard that matters to you.

Most men get trapped in competitive purgatory. They cling to what they already know, avoid the discomfort of starting fresh, and accept someone else’s definition of winning.

Define your own scoreboard and everything changes. The fear of losing fades. The awkwardness of growth becomes the price of admission.

The Bigger Picture: Defining Your Vision

That’s why I start all of my clients with vision work. If you’re clear on WHO you want to grow into, and WHAT your idealized life looks like, you stop chasing someone else’s scoreboard.

Getting in shape, for example, can feel like a pain in the ass—learning new skills, carving time in your schedule, feeling uncomfortable. But if those actions are tied to a bigger vision, they stop being roadblocks. They become the building blocks of the life you actually want.

And when you’re playing your own game, your confidence soars—not because you’re always winning, but because you’re always growing.

The real game isn’t proving you’re the best—it’s becoming the man capable of living your vision.

And that’s the only scoreboard that matters.

Much Love,