My boyfriend and I are total opposites. He likes seafood; I hate it. He likes being inside; I like being outside. He's naturally lovey-dovey; I'm naturally impassive. Needless to say, we clash. So when I found my boyfriend crying at 1 a.m. in the living room, my first reaction was to hide. But when he was having a grief setback—something he’s experienced a few times—I did what any caring person would do: I consoled him. I even had sex with him at 2 a.m. to help him "feel" better (not in a weird way, guys, he initiated).
The next morning, I woke up to start my day and was surprised to see him still fast asleep as he usually gets up for work hours before me. Maybe he called out for the day, I thought. When I nudged him to check in, he was irritated, so I backed off. I checked on him again about an hour later, but he didn't budge (like at all), and I started getting worried. Not only was he still out of it, but he was barely talking to me. By 2 p.m., I was really worried. He hadn't moved, eaten or even used the bathroom.