Healthy relationships require mutual value exchange where both partners contribute equally; expecting partners to meet standards you don't meet yourself creates entitlement and unrealistic expectations.
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"WHY Do Average Women Think They Deserve Top-Tier Men?" - Feminist MELTS DOWN Over Reality Check
Added:I'm Matilda, 26 years old, work at a local insurance office doing data entry.
Not going to lie, pretty average-looking, but I know my worth.
Spend most evenings at home reading about social justice and watching documentaries about systemic oppression.
Firmly believe that all women deserve respect and equal treatment in every aspect of life, especially dating.
Been single for like 8 months because men these days just don't meet my standards. Not asking for much.
Just want a guy who's financially stable, emotionally intelligent, physically fit, socially conscious, and treats me like the queen I am. Decide to meet up with my friend Sarah at this trendy coffee shop downtown.
She's been trying to set me up with her boyfriend's friend Harry for weeks. Just meet him once, she keeps saying, "You might actually like him." Fine, whatever. I'll give this Harry guy a chance. Show up to the coffee shop wearing my favorite sundress and feeling confident.
Spot Sarah sitting with this guy who must be Harry.
He's okay-looking, I guess. Maybe 5'8, brown hair, wearing jeans and a button-up shirt.
Nothing special, but not hideous, either. Walk over and Sarah introduces us. Matilda, this is Harry. Harry, meet Matilda. Harry stands up and shakes my hand. Seems polite enough. "Nice to meet you," he says with a small smile. We all sit down and start chatting.
Within like 10 minutes, I can tell Harry works some basic office job in accounting or something.
Drives a Honda Civic that's probably 5 years old.
Lives in a decent but unremarkable apartment. I mean, he seems nice and all, but where's the ambition? Where's the drive to be something more? Sarah excuses herself to use the bathroom, clearly trying to give us alone time.
Harry starts asking me about my job and hobbies. "So, what do you like to do for fun?" he asks. I launch into my usual spiel about social activism and fighting inequality. I spend a lot of time educating myself about systemic issues and supporting marginalized communities.
I think it's really important that people, especially men, understand their privilege and work to dismantle oppressive structures. Harry nods along, but I can see his enthusiasm fading.
"That's cool," he says.
"I mostly just play basketball with friends and watch Netflix." Internally cringing at his basic lifestyle. This conversation continues for another 20 minutes.
He asks if I want to get dinner sometime.
I give him some noncommittal response about being busy with work. Sarah comes back and we wrap up the meet. Later that night, Sarah texts me asking how it went. I tell her, "Harry seems nice, but we're just not compatible.
He's not really what I'm looking for right now." She pushes back a bit. "What exactly are you looking for, Matilda?
Harry's a good guy." I explain that I need someone more ambitious, someone who's going somewhere in life, someone who shares my values and can engage with complex social issues. I'm not asking for a millionaire, just someone who has their life together and can match my energy. Sarah goes quiet for a bit, then says, "Maybe your standards are a little high." "Excuse me, what?" I spend the next hour explaining to her why women shouldn't have to settle, why we deserve partners who bring as much to the table as we do. Fast forward 2 weeks. I'm at the grocery store picking up some organic vegetables.
Run into Harry in the produce section.
He waves and walks over. "Hey, Matilda.
How's it going?" We make small talk for a few minutes.
He mentions he just got promoted at his job. Still not impressed. It's probably just a tiny bump in salary. He asks again if I'd like to grab dinner. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think we're really a match. His face changes a bit, like he's confused or maybe irritated. Can I ask why?
I thought we had a nice conversation. I decide to be honest with him. Look, Harry, you seem like a perfectly decent person, but I'm looking for someone who's more established. Someone who's really going places and has big goals.
He stares at me for a moment.
Established? How, exactly? I explained that I want someone financially successful.
Someone who's passionate about making the world a better place.
Someone who's physically fit and takes care of themselves.
Basically, someone who's operating on my level, I finish. Harry's expression is getting darker. Your level?
He repeats slowly.
What level is that, exactly? I can tell he's getting defensive.
Typical male ego. I just know my worth, that's all.
I bring a lot to a relationship and I expect the same in return. Like what? He asks.
And now his voice has an edge to it.
What exactly do you bring to a relationship that requires a man to be so exceptional? Wow, the audacity of this question. I'm independent.
I'm educated about important issues.
I have strong values.
I'm emotionally mature.
I don't need a man to complete me. Which means whoever I choose to be with should be worthy of my time. Harry actually laughs, but not in a friendly way. You work at an insurance office doing data entry. You live in a studio apartment and drive a 10-year-old Toyota.
You spend your evenings reading articles online and lecturing people about privilege.
Where exactly is the high value in that?
I'm starting to get really angry now.
Who does this guy think he is? Excuse me.
Just because I don't measure my worth by my paycheck doesn't mean I'm not valuable.
I have I have principles.
I care about justice and equality.
That's worth more than some arbitrary financial success. Harry crosses his arms and his voice gets louder. So, let me get this straight.
You want a man who's financially successful, but you think your own career doesn't matter.
You want someone physically fit, but you avoid the gym yourself.
You want someone ambitious and driven, but you've been in the same entry-level job for 3 years. My face is burning with embarrassment and rage. Those things are different.
Women are judged by impossible standards, while men get to cruise through life on mediocrity.
I shouldn't have to be some corporate climber to deserve respect and partnership. A few other shoppers are starting to stare at us. Harry doesn't seem to care. Nobody said anything about not deserving respect, he says angrily.
But you're demanding men meet standards that you don't meet yourself.
You want someone established, but you're not established.
You want someone ambitious, but you're not ambitious.
You want someone who shares your values, but your values apparently include thinking you deserve things you haven't earned. I can feel tears starting to form in my eyes. This is exactly the kind of toxic masculinity I deal with constantly.
I don't have to prove my worth to anyone, especially not to men.
Women have been oppressed for centuries, and we're finally demanding better for ourselves.
Just because you can't handle a woman who knows what she wants, doesn't mean there's something wrong with me. Harry's face is getting red now. He's really mad. This has nothing to do with oppression or what you want.
This is about you being completely delusional about what you offer versus what you demand.
You're a below average woman with an average job and no special skills, demanding above average men.
It doesn't make sense mathematically.
The tears are flowing now and I'm trying to keep my voice down. I am not below average.
I have value that goes beyond superficial measures.
I have emotional intelligence and empathy and consciousness about important issues. Harry throws his hands up. So do millions of other women.
And most of them don't walk around demanding that successful men compete for their attention.
Most of them understand that relationships are about mutual benefit, not one-sided entitlement. I'm full-on crying now and people are definitely staring. You don't understand anything.
You're just another mediocre man who's threatened by women who refuse to settle.
I deserve someone who appreciates me for who I am. Harry's voice drops to an angry whisper. You deserve exactly what you bring to the table.
Which, based on this conversation, isn't much.
You're not special, Matilda.
You're not unique or exceptional or particularly valuable in the dating market.
You're just another average woman who's been told she's a princess her whole life.
And now reality is hitting and you can't handle it. I grab my basket and start walking away as fast as I can. You're an I yell back at him. Drive home sobbing.
Spend the rest of the evening researching articles about toxic masculinity and male fragility. Text Sarah about what happened. She's surprisingly unsympathetic. Maybe he had a point, Matilda.
Maybe you should think about what you actually want versus what's realistic.
Even my own friends are turning against me. Decide to take a break from dating apps and focus on self-improvement. But not the kind Harry was talking about.
The real kind. Like reading more feminist theory and attending local activist meetings. A few weeks later, I'm at a bookstore browsing the social justice section.
Over here, two guys talking near the philosophy books. One of them is Harry.
My heart starts racing, but I try to listen to their conversation. I just don't understand how someone can be that disconnected from reality.
Harry is saying, "She literally told me she deserves successful men because she's emotionally mature.
Meanwhile, she's crying in a grocery store because someone pointed out her hypocrisy." The other guy laughs.
>> Sounds like you dodged a bullet, man.
These days, every woman thinks she's a catch just for existing. But they want men to prove their worth in every possible way. I'm shaking with anger as I listen. "The worst part," Harry continues, "is that she probably genuinely believes she's being reasonable.
She's so convinced that her basic human qualities make her special that she can't see how entitled she sounds."
I actually felt bad for her until she started yelling at me about toxic masculinity. I slam a book down harder than I meant to. Both guys turn around and see me. Harry's face goes pale.
Matilda.
I march over to them, my whole body trembling with rage. "I heard what you said about me.
How dare you discuss my personal business with strangers?" Harry's friend looks uncomfortable and starts to walk away. "This is between you and me," I say to Harry. "You had no right to make me sound like some crazy person." Harry sigh heavily. "I didn't say you were crazy. I said you were entitled and unrealistic.
Which, based on this reaction, still seems accurate." My voice cracks as I try to respond. "I am not entitled. I just have standards. I refuse to settle for less than I deserve."
Harry looks around the bookstore, clearly frustrated that we're having this conversation in public again. "What exactly do you think you deserve?" he asks quietly.
"Walk me through it.
What kind of man do you think you've earned? I take a deep breath and try to compose myself. I deserve someone who's emotionally available, financially stable, intellectually curious, socially aware, physically attractive, and genuinely cares about making the world better. Is that too much to ask for?
Harry stares at me for a long moment.
For you, yes, it absolutely is. You want an emotionally available man, but you can't have a conversation without crying or yelling.
You want someone financially stable, but you work part-time at an insurance office and live paycheck to paycheck.
You want someone intellectually curious, but your idea of intellectual engagement is repeating things you read online.
You want someone socially aware, but you can't even be aware of how your own behavior affects other people.
You want someone physically attractive, but you put zero effort into your own appearance or fitness.
And you want someone who cares about making the world better, but all you do is complain about problems without actually solving anything. Each point hits like a physical blow. I'm crying again, but I'm also furious. That's not fair.
You don't know anything about my life or what I contribute.
I volunteer. I vote. I educate myself about important issues.
I am making a difference. Harry shakes his head sadly. Matilda, you volunteer maybe twice a year at events that make you feel good about yourself.
You vote for candidates who tell you what you want to hear, and you educate yourself by reading articles that confirm what you already believe.
None of that makes you special or particularly valuable as a partner. I can barely speak through the tears. Why are you being so cruel to me? I never did anything to hurt you. His expression softens slightly, but his voice stays firm. I'm not trying to be cruel.
I'm trying to give you a reality check that apparently nobody else has.
You asked me what level you're operating on.
I'm telling you, you're operating on the level of an average person who thinks she's exceptional.
And until you understand that, you're going to keep being disappointed. I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. So what? I'm supposed to just accept any man who shows interest in me?
I'm supposed to lower my standards and settle for mediocrity? Harry runs his hands through his hair, clearly exhausted by this conversation. I'm not saying settle for mediocrity.
I'm saying be the person you want to attract.
If you want a successful man, become successful yourself.
If you want someone fit, get fit yourself.
If you want someone ambitious, develop some ambitions beyond complaining about inequality.
But don't demand that men be everything you're not and then get mad when they expect something in return. The logic of what he's saying is starting to penetrate through my anger.
But it feels wrong.
Like I'm betraying everything I believe about self-worth and female empowerment.
That's not how it should work, I whisper.
Women shouldn't have to prove themselves to be worthy of love and respect.
Harry's voice gets gentle for the first time. Matilda, love and respect are different from romantic partnership.
Everyone deserves basic human dignity regardless of their accomplishments.
But romantic partnerships are transactions.
Both people need to bring value.
And the value you bring has to match what you're asking for.
That's not oppression. That's just how it works. I stare at him through my tears. Everything I've believed about dating and relationships is being challenged, but I'm not ready to accept it. I need to go, I manage to say. Harry nods. Take care of yourself, Matilda.
I mean that. I practically run out of the bookstore. Spend the drive home replaying every word of our conversation. By the time I get to my apartment, I'm oscillating between rage and something that might be self-doubt.
Look around my small studio.
Really look at it for the first time in months. It's messy.
I haven't deep cleaned in weeks. My exercise bike is covered in laundry.
My meal prep consists of frozen dinners and takeout containers. Sit down at my laptop and open my dating profiles.
Really read through what I've written about myself. Looking for someone who's emotionally mature, financially independent, and shares my passion for social justice.
I'm a strong, independent woman who knows what she wants.
Not interested in hookups or games. Only serious men with ambition need apply.
Scroll through the messages in my inbox.
Dozens of guys who seemed perfectly nice, but who I dismissed because they weren't exceptional enough. Start to feel a sick recognition in my stomach.
Spend the next several hours going down a rabbit hole of self-reflection. Look at my bank statements.
I spend more money on coffee and online shopping. Check my fitness tracker.
I average about 2,000 steps per day.
Review my work history.
Three years at the same entry-level position with no promotions or raises.
Examine my social media.
Mostly just shares of other people's content with angry captions about injustice. The picture that emerges is not the independent, accomplished woman I thought I was. It's exactly what Harry described. An average person who convinced herself she was special. But accepting this feels like betraying every feminist principle I've ever held.
If I acknowledge that I need to improve myself to attract better men, doesn't that mean accepting patriarchal standards?
Doesn't that mean agreeing that women's worth is measured by male approval, spend hours researching articles about this exact dilemma. Find pieces that support both sides.
Some feminist writers argue that women shouldn't have to change for men.
Others acknowledge that everyone needs to bring value to relationships. Feel more confused than ever. Decide to call my sister Emma for perspective. She's married to a successful lawyer and always seemed to have her dating life figured out. Emma, can I ask you something about relationships?
>> Sure, what's up?
>> Explain the whole situation with Harry, leaving out some of the more embarrassing details. He basically said, "I'm demanding men who are out of my league."
Do you think that's fair? Emma is quiet for a moment. Matilda, what did you do to prepare for marriage when you were dating? What do you mean? I mean, what did you work on about yourself to become the kind of woman a good man would want to marry? The question catches me off guard. I don't think I should have to change myself for anyone. I'm fine the way I am. Emma sighs. I didn't ask if you should have to change.
I asked what you did change.
Because I can tell you what I did.
I learned to cook well.
I got in shape.
I developed interesting hobbies.
I worked on my career.
I learned to manage money.
I became someone who added value to a man's life.
Not just someone who expected value from him. Feel defensive immediately. So, you're saying women have to transform themselves to be worthy of male attention.
That's exactly the kind of internalized misogyny that keeps us oppressed. Emma's voice gets firmer. Matilda, I'm saying that everyone, men and women, should work to become their best selves.
My husband also worked on himself.
He got fit. He advanced his career.
He learned to be emotionally supportive.
We both became people the other wanted to be with.
That's not oppression.
That's just being a responsible adult.
Hang up, feeling even more confused. The rational part of my brain knows Emma and Harry are probably right, but it feels so wrong to admit it.
Like I'm letting down every woman who fought for our right to be accepted as we are. Decide to take a few days to process everything. Avoid dating apps and social media. Instead, focus on work and daily routines. But I can't stop thinking about what Harry said.
Especially the part about being an average woman who thinks she's exceptional. Start paying attention to my co-workers and how they talk about relationships. Notice that the ones in happy marriages all seem to have put effort into becoming attractive partners.
They're in shape. They have interesting lives. They contribute financially to their households. Meanwhile, the single ones who complain about men all sound like me. Always talking about what they deserve rather than what they offer.
Always frustrated that good men aren't interested. Always explaining away rejection as male inadequacy. This realization hits like a truck. I am exactly the stereotype I never thought I was. I am the woman who demands everything and offers little. I am entitled. Spend the evening crying, but for different reasons this time. Not because someone was mean to me, but because I finally see myself clearly and it's not a pretty picture. The next morning, I make a list of everything I want in a partner. Then make a list of what I actually bring to a relationship.
The gap is enormous. I want a man who earns six figures. I earn $31,000.
I want someone physically fit. I haven't exercised regularly in two years. I want someone emotionally mature. I cry and yell when challenged. I want someone with ambition. I've been in the same job for three years without trying to advance. I want someone socially conscious. My activism consists of sharing articles and complaining. Stare at these lists for a long time. The evidence is undeniable. I have been completely delusional about my dating market value. Harry was right about everything, and I called a man for telling me the truth. Feel humiliated and angry, but mostly at myself. Spend the next week in a weird emotional state. Part of me wants to double down and insist that I shouldn't have to change. Part of me knows that change is exactly what I need. The rational part wins out when I really think about what I want. I want a loving, stable relationship with someone I respect and admire.
And I want him to respect and admire me back. For that to happen, I need to become someone worthy of respect and admiration.
Which means Harry was right. I need to become the person I want to attract. Decide to start with the easiest changes. Sign up for a gym membership. Start meal prepping healthy food. Begin looking for better jobs or ways to advance at my current one. Enroll in an online course to develop some actual skills. Also, start examining my political beliefs more critically. Realize that a lot of my social consciousness has been performative. Sharing articles without actually understanding the issues.
Attending rallies without doing any real work.
Talking about change without creating it. This is painful to admit, but necessary. Begin volunteering regularly at a local food bank.
Not for the social media posts, but because it's actually helpful. Start donating money instead of just demanding that others donate. Slowly, over the course of several months, I begin to change. Lose some weight and gain some muscle. Get promoted to a slightly better position at work. Develop some actual knowledge about political issues instead of just slogans. Create a budget and start saving money for the first time in my adult life. Most importantly, I stop focusing on what I deserve and start focusing on what I can offer.
After about 6 months of this work, I run into Harry again at the same grocery store where we had our first confrontation. This time, I'm dressed better, feeling more confident, and shopping for ingredients for an actual meal I'm going to cook. He sees me and approaches cautiously. "Hi Matilda, how are you doing?" I take a deep breath. "I owe you an apology, Harry." He looks surprised. "You were right about everything you said."
"I was entitled and delusional and completely disconnected from reality.
I've spent the last 6 months working on myself, and I wanted to thank you for the wake-up call." Harry's whole demeanor changes. "Wow, I wasn't expecting that. How have you been?" I tell him about the changes I've made.
The weight loss, the job advancement, the volunteer work, the financial responsibility. I finally understand what you meant about becoming the person I want to attract.
It was humiliating to realize how wrong I was, but it was necessary." Harry smiles genuinely for the first time since I've known him. "That's really impressive, Matilda. It takes a lot of courage to change like that." We talk for a few more minutes. He tells me about his own recent promotion and some volunteer coaching he started doing. The conversation is easy and pleasant in a way it never was before. When we're about to part ways, he hesitates. "Would you maybe want to get coffee sometime, just to catch up?" I feel a flutter of excitement, but also caution. "I'd like that," I say.
"But Harry, I want you to know I'm not the same person you met before.
I'm still working on myself, and I probably always will be, but I finally understand that relationships are about mutual value, not just demands." He nods approvingly.
"That's all anyone can ask for." We exchange numbers and make plans for coffee the next weekend. As I drive home, I reflect on how much has changed.
Six months ago, I was an entitled woman demanding exceptional men while offering nothing exceptional myself.
I was so convinced of my own specialness that I couldn't see my obvious flaws.
I thought feminism meant never having to improve or compromise. Now I understand that real empowerment comes from becoming genuinely valuable.
Not just demanding value from others.
Harry taught me one of the most important lessons of my adult life.
And he did it by refusing to cuddle me.
Or pretend my delusions were reasonable.
I'm grateful for his honesty. Even though it was painful to hear. Maybe especially because it was painful to hear. The truth usually is.
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