For the past few weeks, among other things, I have had a front row seat at a SIW (single independent woman) meltdown of epic proportions. For my friend, age 43, the red pill realities of the wall, the SIW fallacy, and more are all coalescing at a fast and furious pace.
Ever since moving out on her own she’s “done it on her own.” She married briefly in her 30s, no kids, but fought the yoke hard and decided she was better off on her own than, “stuck with some man.”
After that she held various office jobs, and met her current beau there. Unlike her former husband, an artistic sigma, this executive level, successful, attractive divorced (frivorce, brutally) father of six had all the markings of “a good provider.”
They have dated for several years now but as far as I can see he’s firmly MTGOW (even if he doesn’t know the term) and seems quite happy with their seperate houses, “I’ll see ya when I see ya,” lifestyle.
About two years ago she tired of the drudgery of going to her dead end office job day after day, so she threw caution to the wind, quit, and made do with a conglomeration of jewelry making, pet sitting, and house cleaning gigs. But it wasn’t enough to live the same lifestyle as before, so she supplemented that with credit card debt, figuring it would, “all turn around someday.” Perhaps the day her beau proposed. But he didn’t.
Now, she’s exceptionally good looking, with a darling figure and perky rack. So things have mostly gone her way in life. But for what she has in the looks department she lacks in the emotional control category.
As the weeks and months went on, she became less and less emotionally stable. She often picks fights with her boyfriend, demanding he “Step up or else,” which is followed by a period of him ghosting and her begging him back.
As you may have guessed, things have come to a head and she’s been forced by financial circumstances to move out of her apartment. When no offer from her beau came, I hesitatingly offered her a room at my place in exchange for housecleaning and landscaping, while she “gets back on her feet.”
For the past two weeks she’s drug her feet as moving day approached, fighting tooth and nail daily with her beau who was helping her out financially, tying up loose ends, and trying to help her pack.
He confessed to me he didn’t know how much more he could take, and that he didn’t understand her behavior.
“It’s simple,” I said. “She wants to move in with you, not me.” But he said it simply wasn’t possible.
Yesterday was her last day at the apartment. They spent nearly 24 hours doing what she could have done over the past few weeks. And at 2 a.m. she was texting that she, “just needed a few more hours.”
He says the fighting has been intense, and they have yet to arrive here the following morning. I am sure she’s doing all she can to try to force his hand in the direction she wants things to go, but she’s kidding herself.
He told me not to tell her but he’s leaving on a guys trip this evening for the next two weeks. I guess I will be doing my best to help her pick up the pieces. Based on how she’s acted the past few days, I’d be surprised if he comes back.
Many SIW think in youth that they can decide when and where they will finally settle down with the Mr. Big of their dreams, only to find life isn’t a movie script. Nobody owes anyone anything anymore under the new social rules. And other people get to make their own choices, too.
Yes, women today have the freedom to make their own choices. But they should remember, choices have consequences, and nothing in life is all upside. Play your hand poorly or well, but you’ll live with the results either way you choose. Just like guys have always “been free” to do.
She’s got 40 years or so to go, no savings, no kin, no skills that someone younger won’t do for less, and a guy who can’t wait to be rid of her. That’s going to be a tough hand to play. I’ll be doing my best to red pill her a spoonful a day, because getting her head on straight and quickly is about the only chance she’s got, as far as I can see.
Let those with ears hear.