Hey, you know how a bloke’s rotten bits all surface the moment his partner starts leaning on him? He suddenly stops trying to be nice because he thinks he’s her only way out, and he’s convinced she’ll never go anywhere else. Why bother being caring if she’s just going to stay? Why show respect if she’s already trapped? That’s when his true colours flash – the cold shoulder, the dismissive “you’re just imagining it,” the outright neglect. Even the most sweet‑tempered lads can get twisted by having power over a dependent woman.
That’s why it’s crucial to always have your own cash, your own “where to go” and “what to live on.” Your rock should be you, not him. You can love, you can build a partnership, you can be there for someone, but only if you’re able to survive without them. Otherwise it’s not love, it’s fear – and fear never makes a solid foundation.
A genuine partnership only works when both people are self‑sufficient, whole individuals. It’s not a man and a woman who has no own corner, no own map, no own money. If you’ve got no way out, you’re not choosing – you’re just surviving. And a woman who survives next to a bloke isn’t about love any more; it’s about need.
A little side story – my neighbour, Mrs. Margaret Hughes, spent her whole life “for her husband.” She was lovely, kind, modest – quit her job when the kids arrived because “that’s what he said was right.” All the finances were his. She seemed to live comfortably: a nice flat in Manchester, a holiday once a year, yet she’d beg for money for a new dress like a schoolkid asking for an ice‑cream.
When the children grew up and moved out, the husband started to change – cold stares, constant grumbling, pulling away. Then one day he simply packed his things and left for a younger woman. Margaret was left on her own, without a job, without savings, without confidence.
The first few months were the toughest – how to pay the gas and electric, what to eat, what to do next? That’s when she finally took the reins. She got a job in a local shop, then moved into accounts. She relearned everything, counted pennies late at night, and tried not to let the kids see how hard it was.
A few years on, Margaret now runs her own little business – she bakes custom cakes on commission. And you should hear what she says: “If he hadn’t walked out, I’d never have discovered how strong I am.”
That story taught me one thing: dependence always turns into a trap, while freedom – even when it’s hard‑won – turns into strength. Only when a woman can stand on her own two feet can she choose love instead of mere survival.
