Why Being in a Heterosexual Relationship isn’t Feasible, Or, How Society Made Me Gay

Words by Zaiya Osach

Art by Jenifer Prince

The last heterosexual relationship I was in was filled with low expectations, mediocre sex, and a crusty peanut butter spoon that came hand-in-hand with an equally crusty peanut butter rag to wipe it off with. (I kid you not!) 

After that breakup, we tried staying friends, but he suddenly decided that I deserved to be the target of his rage while also “still being in love with me” (his words), and he would hit me with random objects to get his aggression out from me dumping him, yet also plead with me to get back together with him. 

After I ditched him for the second time—now as friends instead of partners—I stayed single for the next three years, wondering if I should take the plunge—or, as my friend says, “take the bliss”—and swear off men forever. Eventually, after enough single nights, I got back into the dating scene with lesbian-targeted dating apps. After getting ghosted too many times, I decided to lower my standards and allow men back on the scene. 

After playing a game of “Are all guys ugly or am I just in the Midwest?” I did meet a guy I ended up liking, or at least I thought I did. We had the same tastes, a mutual sense of humor, and I found myself looking forward to our daily text exchanges. 

It was after the nth time that he sent a flirty message and I pulled away yet again that I noticed something. He was my ideal guy, so why wasn’t I falling for him?

I was physically attracted to him, but I couldn’t see a future with him. It was a startling revelation to realize that I could be physically attracted to men, but not at all emotionally. 

At first, I was embarrassed by what I thought was a sexist and cruel mindset, so I got to thinking: what was it about women that I liked, and what was it about men that I didn’t?

Easy: Women were life partners, Men were co-dependent. 

How many times have you seen an Instagram reel or TikTok where a woman pulls the weight in the relationship, but a man doesn’t lift a finger? There was a trend a while back where women would spill something on the counter and ask their male counterparts to clean it up. The majority didn’t know how to do so and often smeared the mess. The comments sympathized with the women, saying their men didn’t know how to do it either, but had an overall tone of fond exasperation. Their hopelessness was akin to a puppy trying to catch its own tail. 

There’s also the rising use of weaponized incompetence. For those who are lucky enough to be unfamiliar with the term, weaponized incompetence is when someone intentionally does something incorrectly to the point where they will no longer be asked to complete that task. 

For example, it’s like if you asked a coworker to make coffee and instead of making it properly, they pour the coffee grounds directly into the pot and fill it with lukewarm water. At first, you’d try to show them how to do it properly, or if you’re in a pinch, you’d just make it yourself. The next time you ask them to make it, you get the same results. It doesn’t matter how kind and patient you are, after enough nasty coffee ground water, you will learn they are not dependable and do it yourself. The same thing goes for men. 

Have you ever asked your partner to put away dinner, and they put the entire pot, uncovered, into the fridge? What about putting away the dishes, and instead, they broke several plates and put the rest in the wrong places? What about washing the floor, but they forgot to add soap?

These actions are intentional. You expect me to believe your partner can get a Ph.D. in engineering but doesn’t know how to do laundry? It’s laughable. 

I imagine this stems from a social mindset. For example, from societal pressure, most women are more tidy, more self-sufficient, better communicators, more hygienic, and more self-aware. It’s expected that they know how to cook, clean, and take care of themselves. 

Men, on the other hand, are “a catch” if they can cook or remember to clean up after themselves. It’s not necessarily an expectation. 

I believe this way of thinking started from early sexism, where women had to take care of everyone and everything relating to the home. Cooking, cleaning, childcare, and comfort were all things women could provide, which later turned into thinking that it was all women could provide. This progresses from men thinking women have no purpose to thinking that men must become women’s purpose. Men seem to think that we get pleasure from taking care of a fully grown adult. Little do they know, the only woman who would want to do this is their overbearing mother. 

In my previous relationships with men, I would let a lot of stuff slide that I wouldn’t usually—like the aforementioned peanut butter rag—because I chalked it up to “boys are just like that” and figured communication wouldn’t work. The times I did try talking things out, they would agree to do better, but ultimately fall flat, so I got used to lowering my expectations. Clearly, I should have been grateful that my (ex-)boyfriend got me a calendar for Valentine’s Day. How thoughtful! Or the time a different boyfriend didn’t buy me a gift but took me to a Dierbergs candy aisle and said, “Pick three.” 

I’m dead serious. The bar is in hell, and some men are playing limbo with Satan. 

The guys I dated were also people I thought I knew, but they turned out to be very different. One ended up being a compulsive liar with a sadistic streak, and the other turned out to be a misogynistic mama’s boy. Turns out, “traditional” really just means they want to seem in control all the time, but really need to be dominated in the bedroom. Take notes, ladies!

That isn’t to say the women I dated have been perfect either, but at least they were consistent throughout our time together. Even some of the other men in my life have begun to shift perspectives, going from what I thought were kind souls to spouting off shit that is clearly from a red pill “alpha male” podcast bro. I pity the women who think they can change them. 

Men are also more likely to lack empathy. I remember once in college when a friend and I were discussing our future plans, and the topic of children came up. I never wanted kids, but I respect the hard work and dedication of anyone who wants to be a parent. She had similar views and said so. A guy in our class overheard and jumped into the conversation. He was astounded that we didn’t want children, like the idea that some women simply wouldn’t reproduce had never even crossed his mind. 

We asked if he wanted kids, and he proudly said he “definitely wanted five,” and asked again why we didn’t want kids. My friend and I exchanged a look. We then started to explain the dangers of pregnancy; how women can die during childbirth, the body dysphoria that can come with C-section scars, postpartum depression, the grief of a miscarriage, the loss of social life and friends, the excruciating pain from labor, the expectations of motherhood compared to fatherhood. 

He listened until we were done, then said he still wanted five kids.

There was a guy who insisted that getting kicked in the balls was more painful than giving birth. I asked how he knew. 

“Because a woman can give birth and want to have another kid, but a man would never get kicked in the balls and want to do it again,” he said smugly. 

I wanted to kick him in the balls. True, I would never understand the pain of getting kicked in the balls, just like he would never understand the pain of giving birth. However, society would never pressure him into getting kicked in the balls. Relatives wouldn’t threaten to disinherit him for getting kicked in the balls. No one would say he’s a bad person and that he’s selfish for not getting kicked in the balls. But these are some reasons why women get pregnant and give birth. 

Only a man whose worst injury is getting a papercut from his porn magazine would try to compare the momentary pain of a kick to the numerous painful hours that comes from being in labor. It’s like comparing a splinter to a gunshot wound. 

To reiterate: I wanted to kick him in the balls. 

In short, the only person who can understand a woman is another woman, just like a man can truly only understand another man. Women understand what it’s like to be talked down to. Women understand that others will victim-shame them for things out of their control. Women understand that they have to work twice as hard, use every advantage, and be perfect in every single way, and could still be told they’ve “got it easy.” It is impossible for a man to understand that pressure. 

Another reason I feel more comfortable being with a woman is that we would have similar body types, strengths, and weaknesses. Men can physically overpower women more often than not; that’s just the uncomfortable truth. I already feel uncomfortable around most people—a therapist would probably say it’s because I wasn’t hugged enough as a child—and the possibility of trying to fend off someone who is guaranteed to have me beat in strength, height, and body mass terrifies me. 

Unfortunately, this scenario has happened to many women—cases of domestic abuse, of when ‘no’ wasn’t taken as ‘no,’ and the infamous family massacres. The family massacres have happened on several occasions where a husband is depressed and wants to end his life, but believes his family won’t be able to survive without him. So what does he do? He makes sure of it by slaughtering the entire family. 

I’m serious. Look it up. This is a very real scenario. 

All that being said, I still do like men. Though I find most to be unattractive, either emotionally or mentally, I am still physically attracted to them. If I wanted to date a man, he would have to be a true partner in our relationship, not a burden holding me back. He needs to be self-sufficient, competent, empathetic, and most importantly: not own a peanut butter rag—seriously, that shit was foul.