What Do I Do About My Boyfriend Who Cares Too Much?

Kumusta Tita,

My boyfriend is really stressed out, and I think he might be second-guessing our relationship. This is his first big relationship—one that’s lasted more than just a couple of weeks and is about more than just sex—and he seems overwhelmed by everything that’s coming up.

He recently shared a whole list of things he hadn’t really thought about before getting into a serious relationship. He’s worrying about his job because he’s on the fence about getting a new one. He’s also worrying about mine, since I’m probably going to look for a new one too. Finances are stressing him out because he’s been spending a lot. When we go out, he usually pays for everything. I mentioned that I could pitch in or cover things too, but he said it makes him feel bad if I pay for a bunch of stuff, so I stopped bringing it up.We just took a trip to Arizona to visit his mom because she wanted to meet me, and while we were there, his car broke down. It’s a '06 Camry LE with a little over 175k miles, and the starter went out.

He’s also anxious about what our future bills will look like when we eventually move in together—what kind of place we’ll be able to afford, how much space it’ll have, what the layout will be like, and so on. On top of that, he’s stressed about his car and whether it’ll even last much longer.

He also mentioned that he constantly has to remind himself to be mindful of how he talks to people. We’re both on the spectrum, and he tends to be overly kind. He doesn’t want to come off as rude, but some of his friends have flirty personalities, and he struggles to find a way to let them know he’s taken without sounding harsh or hurting anyone’s feelings.

I just… I don’t know what to do here. We still have at least a year before we’re even close to getting a place together, but his overthinking and anxiety seem to be eating him up. I don’t want him to leave over something that’s supposed to be handled together. It feels like he’s trying to solve everything all at once instead of letting it unfold with time.

What do I do? 😢

Sincerely,

Overwhelmed and Holding On

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Hey Overwhelmed,

I’ve met your boyfriend before. Not literally—but in spirit. He’s every anxious twenty-something clinging to a beer in a shitty dive bar at 2 a.m., trying to solve his whole life with a half-charged phone and a head full of spiraling “what ifs.” He’s the backpacker who got on the wrong train in a country where he doesn’t speak the language and now he’s stuck, sweating through his clothes and trying not to cry in public. He’s the overthinker playing five-dimensional chess on a board that’s clearly on fire.

And what you’ve got here isn’t a man who doesn’t give a damn. You’ve got a man who gives too much of a damn. A guy so terrified of failing you—of failing everything—that he’s spinning out in every direction. Job stress, money stress, existential dread, busted cars, worried about your future apartment’s fucking floor plan—he’s neck-deep in a mental Jenga tower and every piece is labeled PANIC.

And right in the middle of this emotional demolition derby? You. Not the cause of the crash, but the mirror reflecting everything he’s afraid he isn’t. A provider. A partner. A Real Adult™ with a five-year plan and decent credit. He’s terrified because you matter. And now the stakes feel real.

Let’s get one thing straight right now: this isn’t about you not doing enough. You offered to pitch in. You went to goddamn Arizona to meet his mom. You’re tuned in when it’d be easier to tune out. That’s love, baby. That’s the kind of shit most people don’t even recognize when it’s happening. And if he can’t see that clearly right now, it’s not because it’s not there. It’s because he’s knee-deep in his own bullshit fog.

Here’s the rookie mistake: thinking you can fix him. That if you just say the right thing, do the right thing, show the perfect amount of support without crossing some invisible line, it’ll all magically click. But guess what? You’re not his fucking therapist. You’re not his financial planner. And you sure as hell aren’t the mechanic for his busted-ass Camry. You’re his partner. That means you walk beside him. You don’t carry him like a duffel bag full of broken dreams. You help him shoulder the weight—but only if he’s willing to carry it too.

So start with the obvious: Name the damn thing. He’s overwhelmed. Fried. Running on empty. Sit him down somewhere quiet—maybe a grilled cheese and some tomato soup, maybe a night drive with the windows down and no destination—and just say it: “I can feel how much this is all weighing on you. I’m not asking you to fix everything overnight. I just want to face it with you. But I can’t do that if you’re busy trying to be a one-man rescue team for two lives.”

And then? Shut up. Let it land. Don’t rush to fill the silence with solutions or silver linings. Just let the truth hang in the air like cigarette smoke in a shitty bar bathroom.

Now, let’s talk about the money thing. He doesn’t want you to pay because it makes him feel less than. It’s not about you—it’s about whatever fucked-up idea he’s got in his head about what a “man” is supposed to do. He thinks covering the bill equals love, equals strength, equals not disappointing you. And let me be blunt: that shit is exhausting. It’s the emotional equivalent of carrying bricks in your backpack because someone told you a real man doesn’t ask for help.

Tell him: “When you shut me out financially, it doesn’t make me feel cared for. It makes me feel like I’m not allowed to contribute. I want to build something with you, not stand around watching you fall apart.”

You’re not trying to split hairs over every fucking Uber ride. You’re trying to build a partnership, the kind where two people face the hurricane together—not one person trying to hold an umbrella over both heads while the other stands dry and oblivious.

Now, about the future: It’s not a goddamn bomb. It’s a pot of water that hasn’t even started to boil. And the poor guy’s trying to throw pasta at the wall before it’s even warm. Chill the fuck out. Yes, bills are coming. Yes, the car is one missed oil change away from becoming scrap metal. Yes, moving in will come with surprises. But you’ve got time. A year, at least. That’s a lifetime when it comes to emotional growth. And right now? You both need to learn how to stand still before trying to sprint into the future.

The question isn’t “How do we survive what’s next?” The question is, “Can we show up for each other right now, as we are, without the smoke and mirrors?”

He’s on the spectrum. So are you. You get it. The daily sensory warfare. The emotional misfires. The exhausting game of “How do I sound normal?” while also trying not to stab anyone with a fork. And he’s trying to do all this while managing flirty friends, tone-checking every word, and being a halfway decent boyfriend? No wonder the poor bastard’s cooked. Remind him he’s allowed to be a fucking mess. He doesn’t need to get it right all the time. He just needs to show up. Stay in the room. Keep trying.

And you? You’re allowed to be fucking tired, too. You’re not some wide-eyed martyr. You’re not the emotional janitor in his neurodivergent chaos factory. You’re a whole-ass person with needs, desires, fears, and a very real limit to your patience. Don’t forget to tend to yourself, too. Therapy. Walks. Screaming into a pillow. Wine. All of the above.

Now we arrive at the hard question. The ugly one. The one people like to bury under blankets of distraction and “We’ll figure it out.”

Does he still want this relationship?

It’s a terrifying ask. But it’s the one that matters.

If the answer is yes—even a stuttering, breathless, half-baked yes—then fine. You’ve got something to work with. But if the answer is no? Or worse—if it’s silence, or dodging, or vague “I don’t know right now” vibes? That’s your answer, too. And no matter how bad it hurts, you can’t pretend that’s love.

But don’t ask him that to corner him. Ask it so you can stop guessing. Because trying to drag a relationship across the finish line on your own? That’s how people lose themselves.

Here’s the deal: You’re not broken. He’s not a monster. You’re just two people trying to figure out how to love each other without setting yourselves on fire.

But love—real love—isn’t a bunker you hide in when life gets loud. It’s a fucking bridge. You either cross it together, or you don’t cross it at all.

If he’s willing to walk, even slowly, even with shaking knees, then good. Take his hand. But if he says he can’t? If he sits down and lets you walk on alone? Don’t look back. Because love isn’t about solving everything. It’s about showing up—messy, scared, tired—and saying, “I’m still here.”

And you? You’ve been here. You’re still here. Don’t forget to ask him if he wants to be, too.

And if he doesn’t?

Walk anyway.

Mahal kita,

Tita Slut