A friend once told me about how he would wake up in bed every morning with tears in his eyes.

“I’m having problems with my wife,” he said.

“All men are,” was my glib reply. “It’s a fact of life!”

He attempted a smile and turned away to attend to something else.

I later felt awful because my friend was trying to pore his heart out and all I could do was joke about it. It wasn’t because I was heartless, I don’t think I am. It was just so unexpected to confront this personal matter.

I was not ready. I was uncomfortable.

A couple of days later I read about a suicide in the newspaper. I hurriedly read it, hoping that it wasn’t him. Because that smile he gave me, just before he turned away was so distraught that I myself felt like crying.

Thank goodness, it wasn’t him.

That’s the trouble with us guys. We don’t talk about personal, intimate stuff.

We leave that to the girls.

We men are supposed to be out hunting. Defending our cave against predators.

Not chatting about relationship problems.

In our cave-men days there was no real relationship issues. We men were too busy killing wild animals or capturing women to mate with!

Someone once said to me that:

A warrior is not someone who’s ready to fight, but someone who is willing to let a friend into his house, but should that person be an enemy, to tell him to be on his way.

I wasn’t a warrior that day. I didn’t let my friend into my heart.

Next time, I will …