In the storied cityscape of Prague, with its cobbled alleyways, baroque spires, and the lilting hum of centuries-long revelry, an entirely new narrative is taking form—one that stretches beyond the beer halls and stag-party clichés that often characterize it in the eyes of visiting groups of young men. Here, among the echoes of Mozart and the murmur of the Vltava, a subtler revolution is underway: the quiet unraveling of the “Manflew epidemic.”

The term “Manflew” may initially strike as tongue-in-cheek—a wry twist on the cultural trope of the overdramatic male cold—but it has more depth than its ironic exterior suggests. It isn’t a tangible affliction, of course, but rather a shape-shifting social current, a kind of emotional suppression disguised in banter and bravado. And Prague, of all places, is where this invisible ailment is beginning to meet its match, not through confrontation, but through conscious recalibration.

Lad Culture, Peer Performance, and the Man in the Mirror

A traditional “lads’ holiday” to Prague is often painted with predictable strokes: discounted pints, absinthe-fueled nights, dares that go too far, and memories slurred into legend. There’s nothing inherently wrong with fun, laughter, or letting loose—it’s how friendship is often forged. But the script tends to follow a dangerous assumption: that in these rites of passage, depth has no place.

Enter the “Manflew epidemic”—a colloquial diagnosis for a more serious pattern of behavior. It’s the pervasive discomfort young men feel around vulnerability, emotional honesty, and anything that deviates from the hardened, stoic male archetype. Ironically, it’s often on holidays—moments meant for freedom—that this repression doubles down. Lads are expected to perform masculinity like a uniform: loud, fearless, always game.

Dares become currency. Intoxication becomes camaraderie. Oversharing is often taboo unless it’s wrapped in a joke. And when a friend flinches, hesitates, or wants out of a wild night, he risks being labeled a “killjoy” or worse.

Prague as Playground—and Antidote

What makes Prague such a compelling location for reimagining masculinity is that its very landscape offers contradiction. On one hand, it’s a known haven for late-night exploits: cheap beer, neon-lit basement clubs, and curated packages built around stag weekends. But beneath that surface is a deeply contemplative city—one that breathes art, history, and introspection at every corner.

In the early morning, before the pubs begin to refill, Prague is meditative. The sun traces its fingers over Charles Bridge statues. The winding alleys of Old Town grow hushed. A visit to the Klementinum library or a walk through Letná Park reveals an alternative tempo: slower, gentler, yet profoundly rich.

This duality offers a proposition—what if the lads’ holiday didn’t have to be one or the other? What if it could hold both?

First Choice x CALM: Rewriting the Lads’ Manual

The collaboration between First Choice and CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably) tackles the “Manflew epidemic” at its root—not by vilifying lads’ holidays, but by widening their parameters. The initiative calls for agency, for men to choose versions of themselves that aren’t dictated by the loudest voices in the room. In Prague, this means rethinking what shared male time can be.

Why should a morning boat ride down the Vltava, quietly sharing thoughts over coffee, be any less “masculine” than a pub crawl? Why can’t the same friends who down shots at 1 a.m. also explore the Kafka Museum or debate absurdity while gazing up at the astronomical clock?

CALM encourages these redefinitions not by enforcing rules but by posing alternatives. Emotional safety isn’t antithetical to adventure. Vulnerability, when given space, becomes camaraderie in its purest form. And when conversations move beyond hangover jokes and half-truths, the real heart of friendship begins to surface.

Tomfoolery and the Tipping Point

Of course, the “Manflew” dynamic is never one of overt harm. Its danger lies in its covert consistency. A dare at a strip club. A shot challenge that ends in sickness. A prank that humiliates. These things can seem harmless, even hilarious, in the moment—but they often spring from a place of performative bonding that leaves little room for true consent or comfort.

The tragedy isn’t in the act itself but in the emotional aftermath: the guy who went too far because he didn’t want to be “that guy,” or the one who stayed silent when he was genuinely uncomfortable. It’s a distortion of male friendship, one where loyalty is conflated with compliance, and fun becomes a mask for fear of exclusion.

In Prague, where the line between indulgence and recklessness is often paper-thin, this pattern becomes especially visible. And yet, it’s here—because it’s so visible—that it can begin to be rewritten.

Building a New Kind of Memory

A group of friends choosing to wake early after a long night and hike to the top of Petřín Hill. A quiet lunch in Žižkov discussing family struggles. A spontaneous detour to an open-air jazz performance by the Vltava. These are the kinds of moments First Choice x CALM wants to normalize, to elevate alongside the traditional rites of male bonding.

Travel, after all, is about transformation. The best journeys stretch us, soften us, and break open parts we’ve left dormant. Prague, in its contradiction, in its celebration of beauty and absurdity, offers the perfect ground for such evolution.

The redefinition of a lads’ holiday isn’t a renunciation of wildness. It’s a broadening of what wildness can mean. Emotional depth can be intoxicating. Honest reflection can be thrilling. Friendship can be loud with laughter—but also quiet with care.

The Importance of Choice—and the Freedom Within It

The irony of the “Manflew epidemic” is that it thrives on the illusion of freedom while actually limiting choice. Many men follow the “lads’ script” not because they want to, but because they think they have to. In rejecting sensitivity or softness, they end up rejecting whole parts of themselves.

First Choice x CALM’s approach is a gentle rebellion. It doesn’t force alternative models of masculinity—it simply presents them and invites exploration. In a city like Prague, that invitation feels particularly urgent.

What if choosing not to drink one night doesn’t mean opting out of fun? What if confiding in a mate is seen as a sign of trust, not weakness? What if the loudest version of masculinity wasn’t the only one?

These questions are not hypothetical. They are shaping a generation of men who want more from their friendships, their travel, and their inner lives.

Impression: The Prague Reframe

In Prague, the “Manflew epidemic” meets both a mirror and a map. The mirror reveals the hidden costs of a one-note masculinity—the pressure, the fatigue, the silence. The map offers an alternative: winding, flexible, expansive.

There will always be a place for beer-fueled laughs and late-night adventures. But there must also be space for slow mornings, meaningful conversations, and the kind of memories that last because they mattered, not just because they were wild.

So here’s to a new kind of lads’ holiday. One where friendship is not just forged in fire, but nourished in reflection. Where being a man is not a performance, but a choice. And where Prague, with all its contradictions, becomes not just a backdrop for chaos—but a catalyst for change.

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