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A guy revealed the 12 simple things that make men happy and it's 100% accurate

If it's not a dog, a buddy, a beer, and a cool stick, we don't want it.

Nolan Reid / TikTok
A guy definitively listed the 12 things that make men happy and it's 100% accurate

Minimalism is on the rise, not just in design and architecture, but in the way people live their lives. Having fewer things, sporting simpler styles, and enjoying the fundamental good things in life is cool now. Regular people who aren't influencers post fewer updates to social media. The world is just so loud and chaotic, more people are getting satisfaction out of just... chilling out and existing.

There's an old joke/meme that goes something like this: "Guys literally only want one thing and it's disgusting." Its used to imply, obviously, that men are shallow and crude creatures. TikTok creator and simple-life advocate Nolan Reid, however, has a different idea of what men really want.

Nolan recently made a video about "Little things in life that make men happy."

The hilarious list includes:

  • A fridge full of beer.
  • Drinking said beer in the garage. With your dog. And a good buddy.
  • Finding a cool stick.
  • Kicking a rock.
  • Staring at water.
  • Dropping rocks into said water.

As a fellow man, I would say: Yeah. That pretty much covers it.

It really doesn't take much! Watch Nolan's full video to see the rest, and just appreciate how much joy and satisfaction he gets from these simple things.


@nolanreid7

It’s that simple #beer #mustache #muzzymade



People loved Nolan's list—so much so that they began adding their own ideas of "simple things men love." The video racked up hundreds of thousands of views across TikTok and Instagram.

One commenter wrote, "He just described my whole personality." Another added, "This guy gets it."

Others chimed in with their own additions to the list, like staring at a fire for hours or just peace and quiet.

But most of the nearly 200 comments were just people chiming in to say one thing:

"Hell yeah."

Finally, someone who understands us! The video was such a hit that Reid put out two sequels where he added things like skipping rocks, throwing a thumbs up in a photo, or making something from scratch. "A dog" seems to make an appearance in every single video, and for good reason: Dogs make guys happy!

Nolan's ultra-relaxed vision of "masculinity" is honestly so refreshing.

@nolanreid7

And many more #littlethings #muzzymade

Men on social media are usually bombarded with the Andrew Tates and Jordan Petersons of the world—influencers who constantly berate us to make more money, lose weight and add muscle, sleep with more women, take charge, and relentlessly self-improve.

I like Nolan's much chiller idea of masculinity. It reminds me of being a kid: taking pleasure in the simple things, not racing to be anywhere, not trying to impress anyone or prove anything. And I love that all the things listed are timeless. They were enjoyed by men, and all people, in the 50s, in the 90s, and they'll be enjoyed by people 50 years from now, too.

Nolan's entire account is a breath of fresh air, an antidote to hustle culture. His videos find joy in:

  • Breaking down cardboard boxes
  • Driving at sunset
  • Going fishing
  • Throwing a frisbee
  • Wearing t-shirts

A daily visit to his page is almost like a meditation. I highly recommend giving him a follow to add a little counterprogramming to your social media feed.

Nolan says in another recent video that he started making TikToks and Instagram reels just for fun, but discovered along the way that he was really passionate about the message.

@nolanreid7

And many more #littlethings #men #happy #muzzymade

"I never thought that my simple living and love for little things would resonate with so many of you."

He said he hopes to inspire people to "take a step back and enjoy the good simple things in life." And now, I suddenly have the urge to go chuck a rock into a river, so I would say: Mission Accomplished!

This article originally appeared last year. It has been updated.

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Empty nesters share their genius—and surprisingly touching—secret to downsizing

"All I have to do is look in the eyes of my two girls—and they take me back, every time, to the most beautiful, colorful, emotional scrapbook I could ever dream of having."

Jimmy Dunne/Facebook

Jimmy and Catherine Dunne figured out the secret to downsizing.

When your final child leaves the house for good, it's like a whole new world has opened up. The decades raising babies and children are full, rich, exciting, and loud. Your house is filled with laughter and sibling bickering, school projects and kid collections, never-ending laundry and food purchased in bulk. Life is big during those years. It takes up space physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Then come the empty nest years, when you find yourself swimming in a house full of unused rooms and piles of memories. Suddenly you don't need all that space anymore, and you have to figure out what to do with those rooms and those piles and those memories.

For one couple, the process of downsizing brought about a reflection on their family life, their relationship with their kids, and their stuff. In 2021, Jimmy Dunne shared that reflection entitled "Downsizing" on Facebook in a since deleted viral post that resonated with many people who are at or near this stage in life.

empty nest, empty nester, parenting, parents, life stages An empty room.Canva Photos.

Dunne wrote:

"My wife Catherine and I recently moved.

I realized I had something I never knew I had.

Thirty-four years ago, I carried my wife in my arms over the threshold in our home. Thirty-four years ago. From newlywed days, to witnessing our babies go from little girls to young adults. So many great memories in every inch of every room of our home.

I didn’t think I was ready to ‘downsize.’ What an awful word. I liked walking through our girl’s bedrooms and still seeing their stuff on the walls and on the shelves. I liked our backyard. I liked imagining our kids coming down the steps every Christmas morning.

We put it on the market, it sold in a couple days, and suddenly agreements thicker than my leg were instructing me to clear everything I ever had and knew – out.

Every night I found myself saying goodbye to our backyard, to our garden of roses that Catherine would till and trim, to the sidewalk where the girls drove their Barbie cars and learned to ride their bikes, to our front lawn where we hosted tons of talent shows with all the kids on the block – and the red swing on the front porch.

We found a condo in town and started lining up our ducks of what we were keeping, and what we were tossing. We vowed, if we’re going to do this, we weren’t putting anything in storage.

I literally threw out half my stuff. Half. Half of the furniture. Half of my clothes, books. And the big one… way more than half the boxes in the attic.

The attic was more than an attic. It held our stories. Every thing in every box, every framed picture was a story. After we gave away almost all of the living room furniture, we split the room in half and brought down everything of the girls from the attic and from their rooms. We invited the girls over, handed them a cocktail and said, “There’s good news and bad news. We’ve saved all this stuff; your outfits, drawings, dolls, skates -- for you. It’s now yours. The bad news, whatever’s not gone by Friday at 10 in the morning, it’s getting chucked in that giant green dumpster in front of the house.”

The girls thought we were Mr. and Mrs. Satan. But they went through it, and that Friday, most of it went out the front door and right in the dumpster.

I filled the entire dining room with boxes of all my old stuff. Grade school stories and pictures, report cards, birthday cards, trophies, you name it. Boxes of old plaques and diplomas and just stuff and stuff and stuff like that. How could I throw any of this out? I may as well have been throwing me in the dumpster!

But this little jerk on my shoulder kept asking -- what are your kids going to do with all this a week after you're six feet under? They’re gonna chuck it all out!

Here’s the crazy thing. The more I threw stuff in there, the easier it got. And I started to kind of like throwing it up and over in that thing. I started to feel lighter. Better.

And we moved in a half-the-size condo – and the oddest thing happened.

It became our home.

A picture here and there on the wall, Catherine’s favorite pieces of furniture, all her knickknacks in the bathroom. We blinked, and it looked and felt just like us.

And then I found that thing I never knew I had.

Enough.

I had enough.

The wild thing was that having less – actually opened the door to so much more. More in my personal life. More in my career. More in everything.

All I have to do is look in the eyes of my two girls -- and they take me back, every time, to the most beautiful, colorful, emotional scrapbook I could ever dream of having.

All I have to do is hold my wife’s hand, and it hypnotizes me back to kissing her for the first time, falling in love with everything she did, seeing her in that hospital room holding our first baby for the first time.

It sure seems there is so much more to see, and feel, and be – if I have the courage, if I have the will to shape a life that’s just…

Enough."

You can also read Dunne's reflection on his website.

downsizing, empty nest, empty nesters, family, parenting, change An older couple packing up their home. Canva Photos.

People shared Dunne's post more than 24,000 times and it's easy to see why. He's speaking a truth we probably all know deep down on some level: Things don't make a life. Things don't make relationships. They don't even make memories, though we tend to hold onto them as if they do. We may associate places and things with memories, but we don't need the places and things for our memories to live on.

It's not hard to notice Dunne's deep wisdom as the result of a life well-lived. Fortunately for readers everywhere, Dunne compiled his wisdom, including the viral "Downsizing," into a book that was released in September 2024 by Savio Republic and Post Hill Press, titled Jimmy Dunne Says: 47 Short Stories That Are Sure to Make You Laugh, Cry—and Think. Like his Facebook post, Dunne's book is filled with heartfelt, thought-provoking reflections that stand to teach readers valuable and relatable lessons. It even got an endorsement from none other than actor Henry Winkler.

Kudos to Dunne and his wife for looking ahead to what their children would have to go through after they pass if they didn't go through it now themselves. And kudos to them for truly embracing the freedom that comes with having raised your children to adulthood. The empty nest years can be whatever you choose to make of them, and this couple has figured out a key to making the most of theirs.

Keep up with the Dunnes on their Instagram, where they share more writing, wisdom, family moments, and sweetest of all—their grandbabies.

This article originally appeared four years ago. It has been updated.

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Empty nesters share their genius—and surprisingly touching—secret to downsizing

"All I have to do is look in the eyes of my two girls—and they take me back, every time, to the most beautiful, colorful, emotional scrapbook I could ever dream of having."

Jimmy Dunne/Facebook

Jimmy and Catherine Dunne figured out the secret to downsizing.

When your final child leaves the house for good, it's like a whole new world has opened up. The decades raising babies and children are full, rich, exciting and loud. Your house is filled with laughter and sibling bickering, school projects and kid collections, never-ending laundry and food purchased in bulk. Life is big during those years. It takes up space physically, mentally and emotionally.

Then come the empty nest years, when you find yourself swimming in a house full of unused rooms and piles of memories. Suddenly you don't need all that space anymore, and you have to figure out what to do with those rooms and those piles and those memories.

For one couple, the process of downsizing brought about a reflection on their family life, their relationship with their kids and their stuff. Jimmy Dunne shared that reflection on Facebook in a since deleted viral post that resonaed with many people who are at or near this stage in life.

man and woman standing beside fence during daytimePhoto by Caspar Rae on Unsplash

Dunne wrote:

"My wife Catherine and I recently moved.

I realized I had something I never knew I had.

Thirty-four years ago, I carried my wife in my arms over the threshold in our home. Thirty-four years ago. From newlywed days, to witnessing our babies go from little girls to young adults. So many great memories in every inch of every room of our home.

I didn’t think I was ready to ‘downsize.’ What an awful word. I liked walking through our girl’s bedrooms and still seeing their stuff on the walls and on the shelves. I liked our backyard. I liked imagining our kids coming down the steps every Christmas morning.

We put it on the market, it sold in a couple days, and suddenly agreements thicker than my leg were instructing me to clear everything I ever had and knew – out.

Every night I found myself saying goodbye to our backyard, to our garden of roses that Catherine would till and trim, to the sidewalk where the girls drove their Barbie cars and learned to ride their bikes, to our front lawn where we hosted tons of talent shows with all the kids on the block – and the red swing on the front porch.

We found a condo in town and started lining up our ducks of what we were keeping, and what we were tossing. We vowed, if we’re going to do this, we weren’t putting anything in storage.

I literally threw out half my stuff. Half. Half of the furniture. Half of my clothes, books. And the big one… way more than half the boxes in the attic.

The attic was more than an attic. It held our stories. Every thing in every box, every framed picture was a story. After we gave away almost all of the living room furniture, we split the room in half and brought down everything of the girls from the attic and from their rooms. We invited the girls over, handed them a cocktail and said, “There’s good news and bad news. We’ve saved all this stuff; your outfits, drawings, dolls, skates -- for you. It’s now yours. The bad news, whatever’s not gone by Friday at 10 in the morning, it’s getting chucked in that giant green dumpster in front of the house.”

The girls thought we were Mr. and Mrs. Satan. But they went through it, and that Friday, most of it went out the front door and right in the dumpster.

I filled the entire dining room with boxes of all my old stuff. Grade school stories and pictures, report cards, birthday cards, trophies, you name it. Boxes of old plaques and diplomas and just stuff and stuff and stuff like that. How could I throw any of this out? I may as well have been throwing me in the dumpster!

But this little jerk on my shoulder kept asking -- what are your kids going to do with all this a week after you're six feet under? They’re gonna chuck it all out!

Here’s the crazy thing. The more I threw stuff in there, the easier it got. And I started to kind of like throwing it up and over in that thing. I started to feel lighter. Better.

And we moved in a half-the-size condo – and the oddest thing happened.

It became our home.

A picture here and there on the wall, Catherine’s favorite pieces of furniture, all her knickknacks in the bathroom. We blinked, and it looked and felt just like us.

And then I found that thing I never knew I had.

Enough.

I had enough.

The wild thing was that having less – actually opened the door to so much more. More in my personal life. More in my career. More in everything.

All I have to do is look in the eyes of my two girls -- and they take me back, every time, to the most beautiful, colorful, emotional scrapbook I could ever dream of having.

All I have to do is hold my wife’s hand, and it hypnotizes me back to kissing her for the first time, falling in love with everything she did, seeing her in that hospital room holding our first baby for the first time.

It sure seems there is so much more to see, and feel, and be – if I have the courage, if I have the will to shape a life that’s just…

Enough."

man kissing woman on check beside body of waterPhoto by Esther Ann on Unsplash

People shared Dunne's post more than 24,000 times and it's easy to see why. He's speaking a truth we probably all know deep down on some level. Things don't make a life. Things don't make relationships. They don't even make memories, though we tend to hold onto them as if they do. We may associate places and things with memories, but we don't need the places and things for our memories to live on.

Kudos to Dunne and his wife for looking ahead to what their children would have to go through after they pass if they didn't go through it now themselves. And kudos to them for truly embracing the freedom that comes with having raised your children to adulthood. The empty nest years can be whatever you choose to make of them, and this couple has figured out a key to making the most of theirs.


This article originally appeared four years ago.

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In a world with too much stuff, we need to rethink the idea of 'sentimental value'

Things aren't memories.

Photo credit: Canva

Most of us have way too much stuff to be holding on things purely for sentimental reasons.

My friend's grandmother was in her 90s when she died, leaving behind a beautiful extended family, a lovely life legacy and boxes upon boxes of things nobody wanted or had any use for. Grams loved to travel and had souvenirs from various places. She kept decades of greeting cards and knicknacks she'd collected. As family members went through her belongings, they kept a few things here and there—a piece of jewelry, a recipe box, a silver serving spoon.

Most of her furniture, clothing and other useful things were sold or given away, but most of her personal items—old albums, mementos, etc.—ended up being thrown away. It was a good lesson for all of us.

The things we keep for "sentimental value" often have the least value to anyone else.

No one, family or stranger alike, wants hundreds of photos of people they don't know and memories that aren't theirs. No one wants a keepsake figurine from a trip they didn't go on with a date that means nothing to them. The things that hold sentimental value for one person are meaningless to everyone else, and the more our lives become saturated with "stuff," the more we are in danger of holding onto too many things because of the memories or meaning we attach to them.

We see it when we try to declutter our homes and have a hard time because of the "sentimental value" of certain things. Parents hesitate when it's time to purge the baby stuff, as all those adorable items remind us of when our kids were little. It happens when we hold onto the hat we bought at Disneyland even though we never ever wear it because it reminds us of our awesome family vacation. The china we inherited that we never eat off of, the plaque we got for outstanding achievement, the favorite book that's falling apart—all of that stuff we keep because "It's a memory!" accumulates.

via GIPHY

The problem is that eventually other people have to deal with our stuff.

If people want to collect mementos and keepsakes and hold onto everything anyone ever gives them, that's their right, of course. Some people are more sentimental and nostalgic than others and some people place more meaning on things than others. We can philosophize all day about whether and to what degree people should be detached from material things, but the reality is that every person has their own relationship to stuff that they have to navigate emotionally.

What is universal, though, is that someone will have to deal with our stuff when we die, and the more stuff we have, the more work we end up placing on their shoulders. Going through someone's belongings takes time and prompts a million decisions, which quickly becomes overwhelming. It's even harder when a lot of those belongings clearly meant something to them but mean nothing to anyone else.

via GIPHY

It didn't used to be like this, at least not to this level. Average people didn't used to have so many belongings they had to pay for spaces to store it all. We are inundated with stuff, and the more things we attach sentimental value to the more in danger we are of leaving way too much for our loved ones to sort through.

Things aren't memories. They are only memory triggers.

Our memories live in our minds, not in material things. All sentimental items do is trigger our memories, but we don't need physical items to keep our memories alive. So the question is, how do we keep the triggers without keeping all the things?

Photos are some of the best memory triggers, and in the digital age, it's easier than ever to utilize them. If there is an item you're having a hard time parting with for sentimental reasons, take a photo of it and keep it in a "Mementos" folder. A photo of something isn't exactly the same as the real thing, but it can fulfill the same purpose. Sentimental value is all about memories, and seeing the thing in a photo will still trigger those.

I'm not suggesting people never hold onto anything at all for sentimental reasons, but most things we keep as keepsakes don't really need to be kept. It's the memories we treasure, not the items that trigger the memories, so unless a thing has some actual tangible value or some sort of genuine sensory element that would be lost in a photo, take a snapshot and let go of the thing itself.

The more we can disconnect our memories from our physical things—or at least find ways to document those sentimental value items that trigger memories instead of holding onto them—the less overwhelming our living spaces will be for us in the now and the less burden we'll leave for others in the future.

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