Every few months, an article will make the rounds on my social media timelines about emotional labor; specifically that in typical cis-het romantic relationships, women are doing a shit ton of it and men are not really doing it at all. And every time the result is the same: comment threads runneth over with woman after woman declaring,
”this is my life. Every day.”
And my favorite,”^THIS”
And the men? What do they have to say?
Hold on let me catch my breath
Men don’t say a goddamn thing, because their bullshit is indefensible. What would they say?
“IT ME” lolol comme de fuckon
In my experience, getting men to even read one of these articles takes such an immense amount of emotional labor that it’s essentially pointless. I can’t even tell you how many times, in my previous marriage to a cis het man, I gently approached him with a pretty fucking innocuous article about emotional labor and what men can do to shoulder their fair share, only to have him read it and be so offended by the content that the repair work took days, and followed with zero alteration in behavior.
Men don’t want to change this behavior. Why would they? It benefits them immensely. Married men are the happiest people on Earth. (http://time.com/money/4630251/the-modern-marriage-trap-and-what-to-do-about-it/) I would be too, if all my needs were met before I even had to recognize that I had a need. I would be too, if my emotional appetite was so endlessly catered to that I could believe myself not to have emotions at all. I mean, can you even imagine? It’s a dope setup.
So, what are these women to do?
One friend of mine suggested that these articles have titles like “What Men Need to Know if They Want More Sex.” That’s a clever idea and it might work. But I doubt it.
The only path that makes any sense to me at all is to DIVEST.
He’s a drain. There’s nothing he does that you can’t learn to do, trust.
If one person is doing all the emotional labor in a relationship, that’s not an equal partnership. I see way too many smart, accomplished, interesting women doing everything for breathing potatoes. Get out, girl. You got this one precious life.
Or, I don’t know, if you feel like maybe he can learn, see what happens if you just stop. Stop doing the stuff. Stop figuring out the logistics, cleaning up the messes, calling *his* relatives on their birthdays, scheduling all social activity, etc., etc., et fucking cetera.
Let him see what you do. What he *doesn’t* do.
And if he doesn’t learn?
You can buy a dick at the store.