Maxime had always been seen as the ideal friend by his relatives. Since high school, his female classmates praised his listening ability, kindness, and unconditional support. His first girlfriend, Elodie, had fallen in love with his sweet smile and comforting words. She often said that Maxime was a refuge in a brutal world.

However, after a few months, Elodie began to change. She grew close to Nathan, a boy from their sports class who was muscular and passionate about boxing. Maxime noticed the admiration in Elodie's eyes every time Nathan talked about his fights, proudly displaying his bruises like medals. One evening, while they were walking in the park, Elodie brought up a topic that weighed on her heart.

"Maxime," she began hesitantly, "you know how much I appreciate you and how much I love your caring side. But sometimes I wonder if you have that... strength I'm looking for in a man."

Maxime felt a lump form in his throat. "Elodie, I'm doing my best to make you happy. What do you mean by 'strength'?"

Elodie looked down, nervously playing with her fingers. "I mean someone who can protect me, who fights for me. Not just physically, but psychologically too. Sometimes I feel drawn to men like Nathan, who have that confidence and raw strength."

A few weeks later, Elodie left him for Nathan. It was the first blow, but certainly not the last.

Over the years, Maxime met several women, each initially attracted by his gentleness and sensitivity. Claire, for example, loved discussing books and movies with him. Their relationship had started on the best of terms. They spent entire evenings talking about their dreams and aspirations. Claire often said she had never met anyone as understanding as Maxime.

But over time, Claire too began to show signs of dissatisfaction. During their outings, she seemed fascinated by tattooed men, those who looked like they had just stepped out of a fitness magazine. One evening, after they had met a group of tattooed and muscular men, Claire broached the subject.

"Maxime, you know that I love you. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be with someone who has... a more imposing presence. Someone who, you know, practices a combat sport or has a certain hardness."

Maxime felt a deep sadness. "Claire, I'm not that kind of person. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't fight for you in every possible way."

Claire nodded, but her gaze remained distant. "I know, and that's exactly what makes this conversation so difficult. I want someone who can not only be gentle but also show that raw strength."

Once again, Maxime found himself alone, wondering what was wrong with him. His subsequent relationships followed a similar pattern. Louise, a fitness enthusiast, left him for a gym trainer. Sophie, a tattoo artist, fell for a regular client, a muscular man with tattoos covering his arms.

Each breakup reinforced the idea that his gentleness and sensitivity were perceived as weaknesses in today's world. The women he met seemed to be searching for an impossible duality: a gentle and caring man, but also tough and invincible.

His relationship with Charlotte was the most recent example of this contradiction. She loved him for his sensitivity but couldn't help being attracted to the "bad boys" with tattoos and bulging muscles. These men represented an image of brute force that seemed more desirable.

One evening, after a particularly stressful day at work, Maxime and Charlotte were lying on the sofa, discussing everything and nothing. Charlotte mentioned a newly hired colleague, a former professional boxer. Her eyes shone when she talked about him, his tattoos, and his fight stories.

"He has an incredible presence," she said. "You can tell he's experienced things, that he has this inner and outer strength. It's fascinating."

Maxime tried to hide his pain, but Charlotte's words resonated like an echo of past breakups. He knew he didn't fit this image of a strong and indomitable man. But he loved Charlotte and wanted to believe that his sensitivity could be a strength in its own right.

However, doubts began to creep in, gradually eroding his confidence. Every mention of a physically stronger man, every admiring glance Charlotte gave to these "bad boys," reminded Maxime of his insecurities. He wondered how much longer he could play this role without losing a part of himself.

That night, after Charlotte fell asleep, Maxime lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He knew he needed to find a way to reconcile his gentleness with his own form of strength. But for now, he felt trapped, navigating between conflicting expectations, hoping that one day someone would see his true value without trying to change him.

Maxime got up quietly from the bed, careful not to wake Charlotte. His girlfriend's words kept echoing in his mind, fueling his insecurities. Barefoot, he walked to the bathroom, gently closing the door behind him.

He turned on the light, squinting at the sudden glare. Facing the mirror, he observed his reflection with new intensity. The contours of his face, once imbued with gentleness and serenity, now seemed marked by doubts and questions.

"What am I supposed to do?"

He whispered in a low voice, addressing his reflection as a silent confidant. "Why am I never enough?"

He thought back to all the women who had left him, each praising his sensitivity before leaving for a harder, more muscular man, more aligned with the traditional image of manhood. The memories of these breakups assailed him, every word, every look reinforcing the notion that his gentleness was a weakness.

Maxime bent down, pressing his hands on the edge of the sink, and closed his eyes. "Maybe I should change," he said to himself. "Maybe I should become the kind of man they all seem to want."

He straightened up and looked at his reflection again. He briefly imagined another version of himself: muscular, tattooed, maybe even a boxer. But this image made him smile sadly. It wasn't him. He knew that transforming himself to meet others' expectations wouldn't make him happy.

"I am who I am," he whispered, as if to convince himself. "And if that's not enough, then maybe I'm better off alone than playing a role."

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he repressed them. He had never been comfortable with intense emotions, preferring to keep them to himself rather than share them. But tonight, in the privacy of the bathroom, he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

"I want to be loved for who I am," he said, his voice breaking. "Not for what I could become if I changed to please others."

Maxime stood there, motionless, his thoughts swirling. He knew he had to talk to Charlotte, express his fears and frustrations to her. But he was afraid. Afraid of what she might say, afraid of realizing that he might never be the man she truly desires.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind. "Tomorrow," he said to himself. "Tomorrow I'll talk to her. I have to be honest, for myself and for her."

Returning to the bedroom, Maxime felt slightly lighter. Confronting his own insecurities had exhausted him, but he knew it was a necessary step. He gently slipped back into bed, snuggling up to Charlotte, hoping to find the courage to share his thoughts with her.

As he closed his eyes, he remembered his mother's words: "True strength comes from self-acceptance."

Maybe that was the key. Accept who he was, with all his qualities and weaknesses, and find someone who would love him for it.

Maxime fell asleep with this thought, ready to face the challenges of tomorrow, determined to find a balance between gentleness and strength, without ever losing sight of his true identity.