Chronicles of a Late Bloomer

I’m on the couch, crying. It’s a weeknight so we’re relegated to the phone and he hates it when I cry.

“How could I have responded better to this?” he asks. He’s sincere, but there is a hint of frustration. “What did you want me to say?”

I think for a long time before answering. “I guess I hoped you would say, Great. What’s your plan? I’ll figure out how to help you follow whatever plan you choose. Not, Unless you do it my way, I can’t accept it.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” he sighs.

I know. I know he can’t. It’s just the way he is. And, he has been placed into the worst position that a heterosexual American male can encounter — girlfriend trying to lose weight. Poor guy. How does he be supportive without being condemning? How does he encourage without judging?

It may be that he just can’t do it. Maybe I need to stop asking.