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That's our Bruno 🐐
Confessions and realities
42M, 55LPA
I am a 42-year-old man with a senior job in IT. I have a house in Chennai, a supportive wife, and two children. On paper, everything about my life looks perfect. I have achieved all the things society says a man should achieve.
In my twenties, life felt different. I had friends to spend time with. We would hang out at Marina Beach and Besant Nagar beach, watch movies at Rohini, Udayam, and Kasi theatres, and ride around Mount Road on my RX100.
In my thirties, I had colleagues to talk with over tea breaks. We would discuss apartments, onsite trips, and share random stories about life and work.
But now, in my forties, life has turned into a quiet routine. My phone rarely rings for anything personal. Most calls are about office work, bank alerts, or someone from home asking me to pick up milk on the way back.
The loneliness of a man in his forties is unusual. I am not physically alone, but I often feel like a machine.
When I enter my home, I am simply “Appa.” I am the person who pays school fees, fixes the Wi-Fi, and handles repairs. My wife is busy with her work and the kids. My children are teenagers now, living in their own worlds and their own rooms. They love me, but they mostly see me as the person who provides comfort and stability. They no longer see me as an individual.
At the office, I am the senior person. I am expected to have all the answers. I cannot tell my team that I feel tired. I cannot tell my boss that I sometimes struggle to keep up with new technologies. I must appear confident and strong, even when I quietly worry about the future.
Sometimes I drive home slowly from work just to spend a few extra minutes in the car. I listen to songs from my college days.
For those fifteen minutes, I am not a manager or a father. I am simply myself again.
I realize that I have not had a real conversation about my feelings with anyone in years.
My old friends now exist mostly as names on WhatsApp. We send “Happy Birthday” or “Congratulations” messages, but rarely talk. When we meet at weddings, our conversations revolve around our children’s grades or the cars we drive. We never talk about what we actually feel.
The hardest part is that I cannot even complain. If I tell my family that I feel lonely, they look confused and say, “But we are all here with you.”
They do not understand that a person can be surrounded by people and still feel like they are on a desert island.
Society teaches men that if they provide money and security, they have succeeded in life.
But no one teaches us how to deal with the silence that comes with it.
I have built a beautiful life for everyone around me, but sometimes it feels like there is no space left for me inside it.
And maybe… this is what life in your forties feels like.
your SPOUSE is the one who’ll sit beside you when your PARENTS DIE. who’ll hold your hand through CHILDBIRTH. who might have to BATHE YOU if you’re ever too sick to stand. this isn’t just about BUTTERFLIES or DATE NIGHTS. it’s about choosing someone who SHOWS UP... in GRIEF, in MESS, in UNCERTAINTY. so no, LOVE ALONE isn’t enough. COMMITMENT, MATURITY, and the ability to ENDURE life’s ugly parts... that’s what sustains a MARRIAGE. because when life gets PAINFULLY REAL, ROMANCE won’t carry you... CHARACTER will. and the truth is, FOREVER is only possible with someone who knows how to STAY when it’s HARD TO LOVE
Two clever people can’t fall in love.
True love needs one 'idiot'.
Not the bad kind of idiot.
Not reckless.
Not foolish.
Just emotionally brave enough to look silly.
Because when two clever people meet, love turns into a chess match.
Who texts first?
Who waits longer?
Who cares less?
Who has the upper hand?
Both are smart.
Both are guarded.
Both are quietly afraid of being the one who loves more.
So they analyze instead of feel.
They calculate instead of confess.
They protect instead of lean in.
Enter the ''idiot'.
The one who double texts.
The one who says,
“I miss you” without checking power dynamics.
The one who loves loudly, apologizes first, and risks looking foolish.
The one who forgets the rulebook and follows the heart.
They don’t ask,
“Is this wise?”
They ask,
“Is this honest?”
And that is where love begins.
Because love isn’t a strategy game.
Real love always starts with someone brave enough to be vulnerable first.
Someone willing to care without guarantees.
Someone who risks being hurt just to be real.
And then the other clever person eventually puts down the armour, smiles,
and becomes a little bit of an idiot too.
Love doesn’t need two geniuses.
It needs two humans
and at least one willing to go first.
Who was the 'idiot' in your relationship ?
#relationships