He is handsome with beautiful expressive eyes. However, it sometimes seems his expression, even his cheeks, are weighed down by his thoughts. Tall and averagely built, he has beautiful soft hands. Once in a while he sports anything from scruff which I adore, to a full beard, which I also like. He is a good dresser, and his specialties are hats and shoes. I called him a Dapper Dan a few times, of course I always think of him that way.
His clothes are the usual, shirt, trousers, and black socks. He has a compulsory trait of wearing black socks. On a couple of special occasions he sported a red pair that I love.
He was a businessman, very seriously minded on the technical side with little patience for fumbling newbies. He demanded correct, attentive cooperation from his underlings, but inside he was empathetic to their needs. I say inside, because he is not the type to share his feelings outwardly. Even among family and friends, there are only a few times when he lets himself act happily, smiling, or even laugh.
Depression plagues him. Therapy and medications have little success in abating his feelings. Side effects not withstanding, he has an almost stubborn notion about the medicines. He feels they turn him into someone else, and even though they may offer a degree of relief, he often confuses their help with a masking of his true personality.
I have not suffered from depression like this, all encompassing blackness with horrible thoughts covering and influencing all aspects of my life. I am just describing this man and how I think he suffers. And it is sufferable and this is why he can never describe himself as ever being happy or consoled in his life. I believe the childhood he refuses to talk about may be part of the cause for his illness, but he has not revealed this to me.