There is really nothing so entertaining as opening up the internet to find today’s whining feminist, complaining about a bunch of trouble she started. Let’s hear it from Shanita, who is issuing an ultimatum to all us single fellas out here.
In 2020, I am vowing to only date men committed to prioritizing their emotional and mental health. If he doesn’t go to therapy, I’m not interested.
I honestly can’t tell if the editors of Vox want me to take this seriously, or if they’re subtly lampooning this idiot. Either way, this article is pretty funny…
In my last serious relationship, I had both the benefit of exploring my toxic behavior patterns and the burden of being with a partner who refused to do the same. Our relationship started to shift when, during the height of an argument, I grew frustrated when my attempts at “helping” him solve a problem were being ignored. He followed up, like he often did, by screaming at the top of his lungs. Then he said something that snatched the movement from my body: “I’m not your project or something you can control.”
A wimminz tends to think that men need her useless “help,” which always boils down to her nagging her man for not doing what she thinks he ought to be doing, which is almost never motivated by a desire to help, but by a need to feel superior to her man. Then she acts all confused when he gets sick of her noise, and tells her to shut her mouth.
This was my second relationship where what I called “the lack of appreciation for my help” my partner called “controlling.” I realized I was the common denominator here.
Did I call it, or not?
What started as an exploration of trying to understand my own harmful behaviors ended in a commitment to therapy. There, I learned to call my attraction to “broken” men something more than a lack of gratitude or control; the illusion of “fixing” them allowed me to ignore all the areas where I was fractured. It allowed me to overlook the ways childhood traumas shaped my current relationship choices. It was classic avoidance.
This is inadvertently good advice, and pretty much the only thing of real value in the article. Solving someone else’s problems is often a way one can distract himself from doing serious work on his own life.
For months, I remained both in the relationship and in therapy to do the deeper work on myself. I directed my gaze away from scrutinizing his behavior and toward addressing the root of my own. I practiced mindfulness to reduce anxiety, used journaling to record and disrupt unhealthy patterns, and rotated coping mechanisms until I found one that fit. I was slowly forming healthy new habits. The need to control others was replaced by a desire for self-improvement.
The best self-improvement that Mizz Shanita could adopt would be to quit nagging. Her current trajectory suggests that her “healthy relationship” at age 40 will be with a dozen cats. No doubt she’ll still be writing whining screeds in the opinions column, then asking where all those great men went…
How about it, boys? Are you ready for some expensive psychoanalysis in an attempt to meet and date this prize catch of a naggy wimminz?
Read more of Shanita’s nagging at vox dot com