Your Husband Has 800 Contacts and One Friend

A guy I know well recently pulled out his phone to illustrate a point. 800 something contacts. Investors, his extended circle of colleagues, a plumber, three "Mike (LinkedIn)"s.

I asked him who he would call if he needed someone to talk to on a Tuesday. He hesitated, then gave me her name. His wife. The only name he gave me.

On paper he was the most connected guy in the room. He had built an entire company, after all. His phone was perpetually lit up with texts, and he preferred it that way. But somewhere between the series A and the birth of his second child, every real relationship had disappeared down the memory hole.

College buddies: a fantasy football league that emails once every six months. Work friends: people who were friends until someone got promoted. He had meant to have a beer with them all, more than once, but life had intervened. He was always busy. Always.

His wife became his sounding board, his strategist. She took his fears, his worries, the 3am questions that no one else could hear. For a long time she was happy to be his confidant, trusted advisor, emotional support network.

What many people don't realize is that she was also his entire department. Every worry that might have gone to his colleagues, every celebration that might have gone to his friends, every question that might have gone to his mentors, all of it went to her. Because there was no one else. He never realized it, but she was stretched thin, overburdened, drowning in a 24/7 support role.

She never told him so. It wasn't the sort of thing a wife said to her husband, was it? Not if she wanted to stay married. It was lonely, yes, but it wasn't a ringing telephone in the middle of the night. It was the feeling of being a customer support rep with one particularly demanding client, and no time to clock out. You feel it in your bones, but you can't put it into words. If other people have a similar problem, they likely don't realize it.

Meanwhile, the loneliness metastasizes, taking up residence in the places that only husbands and wives can see.

Most men, when asked the question, would say "I don't feel lonely." Maybe they feel busy instead. Maybe they feel frustrated, or sad, or like punching their boss. They can't explain it, really, so they lash out at the nearest available target. Either way, the marriage suffers disproportionately. That's the dynamic here as well. This is a man who feels alone, but can't quite put it into words. He thinks about it as frustration at missed opportunities, at a busy schedule, at the unfairness of life, and the marriage bears the brunt of it.

It's understandable, really. What makes this case particularly sad is that the drive behind his creation of the company was the same drive that caused him to neglect his other relationships. He wanted to optimize everything, to make it count, to make sure that he was spending his time in the most productive ways possible. It all makes sense. It's a noble approach to life, really, until you realize that it makes you unhappy. The costs outweigh the benefits, not always immediately, but eventually.

The remedy doesn't sound very exciting. It doesn't involve a personal trainer or a new vacation destination, but it would make a huge difference. He needs to find some people he can be a friend to. Just be a friend. Show up, however unremarkable he is as a conversational partner. Schedule regular meals, even, that accomplish nothing except being there. Nothing has to be gained by the friendship, nothing has to be put into it. It just has to happen.

It sounds small, perhaps, but it's vitally important. It would free up his wife to stop feeling like the entire staff of his emotional needs. She would gain an outlet, a sounding board of her own, someone to talk to about the little things. Someone to share the burdens that she had been shouldering alone, without complaint.

She should not be the only person in his life. She should not feel like she's the staff of his entire emotional being. She is his friend, not his therapist, counselor, or support network.

In fact, she should get to feel like his friend. His teammate, perhaps, his equal. The two of them should be able to meet as peers, as companions in life, rather than as client and employee.

If anyone can be successful at this, it's him. After all, he created a company out of thin air. A friendship isn't much different. It just requires showing up, putting in the time, effort, and energy, before there's anything to be gained from it. It's a strange reversal, that he of all people would have to relearn it. But it's the thing that will save his marriage. It's the thing that would let him stop feeling so alone, and give the one person who has always been there for him a teammate at last.

So if you're reading this on the couch, next to him, and you've just glanced over at the man whose only late-night confidant is you, then you know what to do.

Dr. Jené Verchick, PsyD, has written extensively about the marriages of founders and high-achievers, and sees couples working through disconnection, overwork, and isolation at her Los Angeles practice. A clinical psychologist with 26+ years working with couples, she helps driven partners find their way back to each other.