Dear Queenie,

My husband has two personalities. There is Responsible Weekday Man, up at 6 a.m., disciplined, serious about work, complains about noise. And then there is Regatta Man.

Regatta Man owns boat shoes he only wears once a year. Regatta Man suddenly knows every sailor by first name. Regatta Man drinks like he’s 22 and dances like no one is recording (but everyone is). Regatta Man insists we must “support the event properly.”

We are not sailors. We do not own a boat. We barely own matching beach towels. Yet for four days, he transforms into some kind of maritime ambassador. Last year he came home sunburned, hoarse, and financially confused. This year he has already blocked off the days and informed me we are “living life.” Here’s my problem: I actually like Regatta. I like the music, the buzz, the island alive with energy. But I do not like babysitting a grown man who forgets his limits. Am I supposed to just let him have his one wild weekend? Or is it fair to expect moderation during “the biggest event of the year”? —Married to Regatta

Dear Married to Regatta,

First, let me reassure you: your husband is not alone. Regatta Man appears annually across the island, often in boat shoes that have seen no actual deck time. There is something about Regatta that awakens dormant maritime fantasies. Men who cannot tie a proper sailor’s knot suddenly speak fluently about wind direction. Accountants become captains. Office managers become crew. It is, in its own way, charming. Island events like Regatta give adults permission to temporarily suspend responsibility. The music is louder. The days are longer. The rum is persuasive. For four days, everyone feels slightly younger and slightly more interesting. That said, “living life” does not require living recklessly. You are not unreasonable for wanting a version of Regatta that does not involve financial amnesia, medical-grade sunburn, or supervising a man who insists he is “fine” while swaying. The key is pre-Regatta negotiation. Before the boat shoes come out, have a calm conversation. Agree on a budget. Agree on transport home. Agree on limits. When expectations are discussed before the first drink, they are easier to honour after the third. And consider this: instead of babysitting Regatta Man, join him, strategically. Enjoy the music. Set your own pace. Leave when you choose. Adults can attend the same event without sharing the same stamina. Regatta only comes once a year. So does this particular version of your husband. Let him have some wind in his sails, just make sure the anchor is still firmly attached at home. And perhaps hide the credit card. —Queenie

Dear Queenie,

I have a friend I’ve known for years. We’ve celebrated birthdays together, supported each other through breakups, job changes, family drama, the full arc of adult life.

Lately, though, something has shifted.

Every time something good happens to me, she subtly diminishes it. This is hurtful for me. I am always happy for her. I am also supportive and even cheer her on publicly.

If I get a promotion, she mentions someone who climbed higher or faster. If I travel, she talks about a more exotic place she visited. If I share good news, she quickly pivots the conversation back to herself. If I mention a small achievement, she offers unsolicited “improvements” or reminds me how much harder things are for her.

There’s never outright criticism. No obvious insult. It’s all light, almost joking. But the pattern is steady.

I’ve started noticing that I hesitate before sharing good news with her. I downplay things. I edit myself. I don’t want to trigger whatever this is.

What confuses me most is that she is successful in her own right. She has a good job, travels often, and lives comfortably. So I don’t understand why my wins seem to make her uncomfortable.

It’s small things. But it’s constant.

Am I being overly sensitive? Or is this what envy looks like? — Unsure

Dear Unsure,

When something feels small but constant, it stops being small. It becomes a pattern.

What you describe isn’t open hostility, it’s comparison. And repeated comparison in response to your good news can carry a quiet edge of envy. Envy rarely announces itself loudly. More often it shows up as subtle one-upping, redirected conversations, or the need to rebalance attention.

The more important detail is your reaction. You’ve started editing yourself. Downplaying your joy. That is the cost.

Healthy friendships make space for celebration. A friend may tease lightly, but underneath there is pride and warmth. You should not have to shrink your wins to keep someone comfortable.

Before assuming the worst, test it gently. The next time she pivots, hold your ground: “I’m really proud of this.”

See what she does. Does she celebrate you? Or compete?

You’re not overly sensitive for wanting your joy to be received, not ranked, especially when you cheer her on personally and publicly.

Pay attention to how you feel after time with her. That feeling will tell you more than any label. — Queenie

Dear Queenie,

I never thought I’d be writing to you, but here we are. I’m writing because you’re a woman, and right now I feel outnumbered by hormones.

My wife and I are in our late 40s. She’s in perimenopause, hot flashes, mood swings, sleep issues, little interest in sex. I’ve done the Googling. I’ve heard the explanations.

Here’s what nobody talks about: I feel like I’m going through something too.

I’m not as young as I was. My energy dips. My confidence isn’t steady. We’re both more irritable. We retreat. When it comes to intimacy, it feels like we quietly gave up without saying it out loud.

Here’s where it gets uncomfortable.

I don’t have a by-side. Let me be clear. But I understand why some men my age do, not because they don’t love their wives, but because they miss feeling wanted. Desired. Alive.

Before you judge me, understand this: I love my wife. We built everything together. But lately she barely sees me. When I try to talk about how I feel, the focus shifts back to what she’s going through. I get it, I do. But where does that leave me?

I’m not trying to replace her. I’m not trying to wreck my marriage. I just don’t want to feel invisible in my own home.

Is this just midlife? Do men just endure quietly? Or am I missing something?

I’m asking you because you’re a woman. Help me understand. —Still a Man, Trying to Understand

Dear Still a Man, Trying to Understand,

You are right about one thing: we don’t talk enough about this season of life. But let us be clear, perimenopause is not a personality flaw, nor is it a marital betrayal.

Your wife is not “withholding.” Her body is recalibrating. Hormones shift. Sleep suffers. Confidence wavers. Many women feel physically and emotionally unsettled in ways they cannot simply power through. This is not drama. It is biology.

Missing intimacy is human. What concerns me is your easy understanding of why men “end up with a by-side.”

You say you don’t have one. Good. Keep it that way. Because using her transition to justify emotional outsourcing would not make you misunderstood, it would make you disloyal.

You want to feel desired. Fair. But when was the last time you made her feel secure in her changing body? When did you offer closeness without expectation? When did you sit with discomfort instead of competing with it?

You are not competing with biology. You are being invited into partnership.

Midlife does not mean enduring quietly. It means maturing deliberately. Intimacy may look different now, slower, less urgent, more intentional, but it cannot survive resentment.

You feel invisible. She likely does too.

This is not the moment to look elsewhere. It is the moment to strengthen what you built.

Still a man?

Then act like one. —Queenie

Dear Queenie,

Cake. I want you to know from the start this is about cake. Birthday cake and irritation.

It was my birthday recently. I am not big on celebration. Every darn day is made to celebrate. Let me get back to the cake. The Dutch custom is for people making birthday to bring cake to the office. Lots of people do it where I work. We eat cake for everything on an island with a highest diabetes rate in the Dutch Kingdom. But, who cares? Let’s eat cake!

Back to my irritation. It was my birthday. I was not in office for it nor was I there for like two weeks afterwards. I was on vacation then I was sicker than a mangy dog with a four pack of cigarettes a day cough. I was sick, sick.

I am now back to work. A few days ago, this colleague turns up at my office door asking when am I treating with cake or goodies. I mean really? I ignored her. I found out at lunch today (this is why I am writing you) that this colleague complained to anyone who would listen that I did not bring cake. She thinks I should be more considerate.

I want to tell her off in front of everyone. Queenie, I don’t want be unprofessional, but …

Dear Don’t want be unprofessional,

I can sense your heavy frustration from your words. I commend you for seeking insight and wanting to keep your professionalism. This is about cake after all.

You are justified in your irritation. It is up to you how you choose to mark such a personal milestone. That said, it seems to me you are dealing with a culture expectation. Your reference to “the Dutch custom” tells me this may not be your background.

Do not confront your colleague in anger. She may be speaking from her cultural reference point. In some offices, traditions become assumed obligations, even when they are not written rules.

However, what concerns me more than her asking about cake is her decision to complain to others. Discussing your choice with colleagues instead of speaking to you directly shifts this from cultural expectation to unprofessional behaviour. Office gossip over birthday cake is unnecessary and creates tension where none needed to exist.

Instead, find a quiet moment and calmly tell her the reason you did not follow the tradition, you are not big on milestones, you were unwell, or it was not in your budget. One thing well understood in Dutch society is frugality and budgeting.

If you were planning to treat with cake or other goodies, just not now, you may still do so. You can even make a light statement about why you waited.

It is your milestone. You should not be quietly bullied into treating. There are office traditions, though, and balance is a good thing. —Queenie