Entry tags:
I told my friend I think her husband is gay
Dear Carolyn:
Many think my best friend "Sara" has it all: four adorable children, a successful husband ("Jim"), and a beautiful home. Jim is an absolute dear, but here's the thing. I think he's gay.
Recently, I sat down with Sara and shared my hunch. True to form, she listened attentively and thanked me for my concern. But since then, Sara has not mentioned our conversation about her husband's sexuality. I am concerned she is in denial. How should I gently revisit the topic?
-- A Friend in Need
Never. Not gently, not roughly, not with discreet tactical brilliance, not ever. That's how.
And if there were such a thing as boundary school, I'd sentence you to it. Because, oh my wow. This is so not your business.
With the benefit of all doubts firmly in place, I'll venture you just really want your friend to be happy. And that's great. But if your idea of helping her be happy includes a first step of having to persuade her that she's unhappy, then that's your flashing red railroad-crossing barrier, your Do Not Disturb hang-tag, your singing telegram reminding you to butt the heck (and everything else) out. If your friend wants your help, she can ask.
And while I'm here: No one, anywhere, ever, has it "all."
Many think my best friend "Sara" has it all: four adorable children, a successful husband ("Jim"), and a beautiful home. Jim is an absolute dear, but here's the thing. I think he's gay.
Recently, I sat down with Sara and shared my hunch. True to form, she listened attentively and thanked me for my concern. But since then, Sara has not mentioned our conversation about her husband's sexuality. I am concerned she is in denial. How should I gently revisit the topic?
-- A Friend in Need
Never. Not gently, not roughly, not with discreet tactical brilliance, not ever. That's how.
And if there were such a thing as boundary school, I'd sentence you to it. Because, oh my wow. This is so not your business.
With the benefit of all doubts firmly in place, I'll venture you just really want your friend to be happy. And that's great. But if your idea of helping her be happy includes a first step of having to persuade her that she's unhappy, then that's your flashing red railroad-crossing barrier, your Do Not Disturb hang-tag, your singing telegram reminding you to butt the heck (and everything else) out. If your friend wants your help, she can ask.
And while I'm here: No one, anywhere, ever, has it "all."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
I do have a feeling that LW is envious of Sara's seemingly idyllic life (I say "seemingly," because I get the feeling the LW is not the kind to notice others' trials unless those trials serve their need to shit stir), and is getting a little too much pleasure from the idea of exploding Sara's life.
no subject
I'm imagining Jim as like, well dressed, high standard of personal grooming, and vocally supportive of women, and therefore "must be gay".
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Today on letter writers that I would be thrilled to smack on the head with smelly dead fish.
no subject
If I were Jim and got wind of this, I would go out of my way to wear the most effeminate clothing, adopt a few more mannerisms, leave a few suggestive DVDs out by accident when LW came over, and make a point of going to hang out with a certain type of male company. I'd rope Sara into it, too, and have her lavish me with physical attention whenever LW was around and then encourage it in the gayest way possible. Have conversations in LW's presence about going back to "the club" - no, not just the pool-only area dear, you know, where they have the ... equipment ... that all the other guys use. Oh, I do so like it watching the guys work out with you, Jim. So do I dear, so do I.
no subject
Yasssssss
no subject
no subject
Please proceed to the nearest bin. Climb in. Thank you.
No thanks,
The World.