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I do forget sometimes how much it means for certain men--for certain people--to be able
to provide their loved ones with material comforts and protection at all times. I forget
how dangerously reduced some men can feel when that basic ability has been stripped
from them. I forget how much that matters to men, what it represents.
I can still remember the anguished look on an old friend's face when he told me, several
years ago, that his wife was leaving him. Her complaint, apparently, was that she was
overwhelmingly lonely, that he "wasn't there for her"--but he could not begin to
understand what this meant. He felt he had been breaking his back to take care of his wife
for years. "Okay," he admitted, "so maybe I wasn't there for her emotionally , but by God,
I provided for that woman! I worked two jobs for her! Doesn't that show that I loved her?
She should have known that I would have done anything to keep providing for her and
protecting her! If a nuclear holocaust ever struck, I would've picked her up and thrown
her over my shoulder and carried her across the burning landscape to safety--and she
knew that about me! How could she say I wasn't there for her?"
I could not bring myself to break the bad news to my devastated friend that most days,
unfortunately, there is no nuclear holocaust. Most days, unfortunately, the only thing his
wife had really needed was a little more attention.