Lead a horse to water even if they don't drink

Yesterday, my friend Colton dropped by out of the blue. He brought over a bag of donut holes to share despite his diabetes. This means he's having troubles with his wife and needs to vent.

I put the coffee on, and he wasted no time getting into it. He starts by asking how I'm doing, but his mind wanders off the moment I open my mouth.

Betsy is his second wife, been married some 20 years, and throughout those years, Colt has sat before me on such occasions, griping about his "wife" over any treat from the donut shop.

Betsy is considerably younger, so this is part of the problem. And, to be honest, little by little, I've seen how she's taken full control of his life. The older he gets, the more she babies him. He doesn't mind the babying part, thinks it's love, but he gets angry whenever it starts to feel like belittlement.

From my point of view, Colt is the family step-and-fetch-it. He's got a huge heart, and the wife takes full advantage of it. He does all the grocery shopping, cooks every meal and serves it up, cleans up, takes care of the yard work, does all the household fixes and car repair as expected, but in return the wife often finds fault in how he's done things. Mainly, she complains if he left things out of place or didn't clean things up properly.

So it's when he reaches his breaking point that he blows his stack, storms out of the house, and heads to the donut shop for relief.

"She's giving me the silent treatment," he sighed. "Said I raised my voice to her. Well, what the hell does she expect?"

I tell him he's got no boundaries and needs to grow a pair, but he just waves me off like I'm making no sense. Truly, he's the horse you lead to water who won't drink since he knows that's just not who he is.

What he really wants is to figure out how to make peace with her, and he's here to do that in my company.

"So she's always right?" I ask.

"No, but she does nice things for me..."

"Like what?" I'm curious because he's never given me any examples. Just says, "I don't know, but she does." He must be referring to the babying part he enjoys.

So I suggest he go home and apologize for his outburst. But he stays put, reaches back into the donut hole bag, and brings up other offenses. In other words, he's not done venting.

Now I'm thinking. Why me? I'm not a therapist or even married. What makes me the expert? Why do I have to give up my time to listen to his saga whenever things go south?

Well, let me tell you why.

I'm comfort to him, and that's what he needs in this moment. I have patience, too, and he needs someone to validate him because, deep down, he's worried she'll leave him, being she's so much younger.

I know that's what's circling through his troubled brain. He just needs reassurances, and as a friend it's what I do. It's about him, not me. Donut holes are a bonus.

At the end of this day, I know he'll apologize to his wife, I'll be a pound heavier, but I'll sleep well knowing I made time for someone in need.

But I'm wondering, does anyone else out there have a Colt in their life?