Or, The Difficulties of Satisfying Progressive Women:
It occurs to me that there’s something a little dissonant about the framing of affection and basic consideration – say, remembering your partner’s birthday – as “unpaid.” As “emotional labour.” As if being in a relationship or having any concern for those you supposedly care about were some onerous, crushing chore. As if you should be applauded – and financially compensated – for the thirty-second task of adding a birthday to the calendar on your phone.
The attitude implied by the above would, I think, explain many failures on the progressive partner-finding front and the consequent “stepping away from dating altogether.” Though possibly not in ways the author intended.
As if the concept of wanting to care, to help, to remember those birthdays, were somehow alien or offensive.
Only masochistic beta males date progressive leftist women.
Depends how hot they are. I would agree that only masochistic betas date them more than once.
My next band, Masochistic Beta.
Nice! Goes with my band; Damaged sperm.
My starter wife leaned left and was cute as a button and a real minx in bed … then she turned hard left … cleaned out our apartment when I was at work … and I mean cleaned OUT. Nothing left but my clothes in the closet … and she legally changed her full name to something mysterious and unpronounceable. Yeah … totally nutso in the head, God was good to me and we had no children … so I escaped completely and forever.
I got hooked on the looks and sex … and learned that lesson good and hard, err limp.
Why would anyone keep score in what’s supposed to be a loving relationship?
Try to explain to them that the home doesn’t have to be perfect, and men would rather spend time with their partners than making the home perfect.
Excuse me for taking a break from reading this blog. I need to go set up the Keurig for my wife’s second cup of coffee. I figure it’s the small things you do in life for each other that count more than big spectacular ‘wins’.
“The attitude implied would,explain many failures on the progressive partner-finding front and the consequent “stepping away from dating altogether.”
Maybe they never really stepped into dating. In my youth, my girlfriends and I referred to these females as clock stoppers. On college weekends clock stoppers showed up at the dorm with male guests in tow who were were not actual dates but pickups from local bars. Sunday mornings, to flaunt their popularity, clock stoppers loudly announced which bathroom was designated male only till noon.
Lesbian relationships … with rates of failure and divorce twice that of heterosexuals, more than double that of gay male couples, and with high rates of alcoholism and spousal abuse. What one might infer from that, I leave to others.
Let me hazard a guess … most lesbians are morbidly obese, and decidedly non-feminine… largely (sorry) by choice. So they don’t like themselves, and are angry with the world, esp. anyone within their rage range.
So they got what they want taking the “man” out of these soy-boys and they’re still bitching? Be careful what you ask for.
When I was actively dating (back in the mists of time, when dinosaurs ruled the Earth and TV was in black and white) it was my experience that White Toronto girls were all crazy. Additionally, most of them had no honor.
You can’t make a future with a crazy person who needs you to figure out which way to pet her fur at any given moment, and who sets little tests for you to pass from time to time.
Now of course those hot chicks I dated back in the day are 60+ and either grew out of it or they live with many cats.
If you hear the term “emotional labour” used in a sentence by a woman, that is a future cat-lady.
I think the women that talk about all this emotional labour bullshit seem to do no actual labour around the house.
While the effects of femenizing foods and genetic drift are plainly apparent, I view the referenced article as a whiny gender projection cast from the depths of a narcissistic perimenopausal SSRI modulated depression.
Time for Ashley to take her HRT, and sort her dildos.
I’ve experienced emotional labour. I have hated a few manual labour jobs in my working life.
“Fishing without bait”?
I believe you meant … fish without a bicycle