I’ve started dating again. Like, properly dating.
Recently, I got into it with a man who decided to go on a performative feminist rant about women doing everything a man can do and how he doesn’t do ‘princess treatment’.
Ick. Shudder.
I think he thought it would impress me. Because I’m a feminist?
I’m just going to say the quiet part out loud.
“Cool. I’m just going to say this now— Yes, I’m a feminist. No, I don’t split the bill,” I said.
It’s never happened to me, but if I went out to dinner with a man and he suggested splitting the bill while the waiter was standing over us awkwardly with the card machine… Well first of all, I’d feel embarrassed (for him, more than for myself) and I’d think, Why did you invite me here if you can’t cover this? Are you struggling? Why do you hate me?! And then I’d laugh, make a condescending joke, pay the whole thing, and then I’d grab my coat, walk straight past him out the door and never speak to him again. Because I would rather close the tab myself than sit in the awkward neutrality of “shall we split the bill?”
The thought of a man saying that to me actually makes my skin crawl. Why are we behaving like we’re two interns dividing an Uber Eats? If you hate me, just say that. But you can pay the bill first, you cheap fuck.
Feminism is about having equal rights. But having the same rights as a man doesn’t mean I have to date like one. Attraction isn’t political. It’s visceral. And nothing is going to make my vagina shrivel up faster than a man who hesitates or asks to go 50/50.
If you ask me out, I should feel hosted. Seamlessly. Whether you like me by the end of the meal or not. In fact, if you ask me out to dinner, I don’t even want to see the bill. Money is not a concept that I even want to acknowledge on a first date. It is big fat not my fucking business.
Early courtship shouldn’t feel like a business partnership. I’m not negotiating a marriage contract on date one.
Secure men aren’t threatened by this. They’re energised by it. If generosity feels like humiliation to you, we are not aligned, sir.
Think of it this way: If I invite you into my home, I host you and I’m excited to do this. I cook, I serve, I ask if you get home safely. I wouldn’t do all of that and then invoice you for olive oil and wine when the night comes to a close.
Hosting is a gesture, not a transaction.
Some women feel empowered splitting. Good for them.
I don’t.
It’s more than the fact that men are positioned by the patriarchy to have more financial freedom than women. Or that our lip combo probably costs more than his shirt. I could mention that women are a gift and should be treated as such. I could say that women’s free physical and emotional labour is an unspoken expectation, as well as the fact that at some point, we will most likely literally push a human being out of our bodies for at least one of you.
I could say all of those things. I just did.
Those things are absolutely true. But it’s a lot more than that.
Women love in ways that are expensive— emotionally, spiritually, physically. That’s not a small offering. And I refuse to offer that depth to someone who treats early generosity like a loss. Generosity flows both ways. It just doesn’t look identical.
I’m looking for signs of partnership. When a man reaches for the bill without hesitation, it’s not about the cost. It’s about the instinct to handle things. Leadership in small moments signals leadership in larger ones. If you hesitate over dinner, I wonder how you handle pressure. If generosity feels like overextending, I wonder how you show up when something actually costs you.
Jesus Christ, if you can’t open a door for me and pick up the bill for dinner, then what the hell are you going to be like in the airport?
Ah. The airport.
Early on, when I like a man, I always wonder if he’s an Airport Dad.
Airport Dad handles things. Airport Dad is a leader. Airport Dad is calm and happy. And so is his wife.
Because I’ve seen what happens when he isn’t. I’ve seen that woman. She’s juggling kids, bags, logistics and emotions, while her husband trails behind mindlessly on his phone, contributing nothing but bad vibes.
My mum was that woman. She hates airports.
I need someone who can stand shoulder to shoulder with me without flinching. Are you going to pick the kids up from school and remember the names of their teachers? Because I know I will. It’s inherent to my being. I nurture. I organise. I remember. I show up. I am not fragile. But I refuse to parent my partner. I know my capacity. I’m looking for its match.
Research consistently shows that partnered men report higher earnings and greater life satisfaction than single men. They report better mental health. Married men typically out-earn single men. The benefits of long-term partnership statistically skew in their favour.
But the numbers say that women report the exact opposite. They put their careers on hold, report poorer mental health and lower happiness.
I don’t want that for myself, my guy.
Statistically, dating tends to benefit men more than women, so prove those numbers wrong (and forgive me if I’m not jumping for joy at the thought of paying for the appetiser).
We not only bear greater social risk in dating, there is a literal physical risk too. Statistically speaking, women are more likely to be murdered by a husband or partner than by anyone else.
That’s not ideology. That’s observable reality. You’re worried about losing out on the money for dinner and not getting laid after. I’m fearful for my actual life, darling.
Jesus Christ. If you’re going to fuck me, hold me back from my full potential, make me miserable and then kill me, at least buy me dinner first.
I already live a great life. I love my home. I go on wonderful trips. I have weekly gorgeous dinners with my gorgeous friends in gorgeous places. I’m not asking you to give me those things. I’m asking you if you can match it. Because if you’re not matching it, then you’re dragging me down.
I don’t need a partner to put a roof over my head. I need a man to show me he has his own and then some. I’m asking not to be the only adult in the room.
This isn’t all about affordability, it’s about courtship. Women fought for the right to earn, to vote, to leave, to build, to own. That does not obligate me to pursue, host and court in the same way men historically have. Equality protects my autonomy. It does not dictate my desire.
I expect chivalry because confidence is attractive. There is nothing hotter than a man who handles things without looking for permission. Secure men don’t experience that as pressure. They experience it as play.
And, hey, if you don’t have the funds, that’s fine. Don’t invite someone somewhere you resent paying for. Might I suggest a stroll in the park? (Not with me, obviously.) Start as you mean to go on. Invite women into dynamics you feel proud and in control of.
People have every right to want to split the bill. And I have every right to opt out.
I don’t need to perform low-maintenance to secure affection.
A man who moves first, handles the bill, opens the door, makes the plan. That’s not oppression. It’s sexy as fuck.
There’s one thing more sacred than money in this world and it’s time. Please don’t waste mine with your nonsense.
See you next time in the confessional,
Blithe x
Thank you for reading! If you like what you see here, consider becoming a paid subscriber. I post weekly diary entries— Some free, some locked away. If you have commitment issues (I get it, I know the type), you can always buy me a coffee, matcha, or contribute to my ever-growing therapy bill below.
No pressure. I’m just happy you’re here.
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.