Are men really your meal tickets?
Don’t EVER rely on a man to give you a free ride through life
Men are not meal tickets.
That’s been my mother’s catch phrase from when I was about 4. While sitting enthralled on her lap watching Cinderella, she’d sternly remind me that men weren’t there to provide for me. In storybooks, I’d be told I’d need to save up for my own castle and unicorn. Before spelling tests, I’d be told I needed to do well at school to succeed. Because men were never, ever obliged to work for me.
And actually, I agree. For two reasons. Although we both know I’ll end up saying sixteen by the end of this rant.
It puts the obligation on men to provide for you in a system where wages are largely averaged to support one person, instead of two. This affects mental health, stress, your relationship dynamic and how you view eachother.
It ALSO puts you in a very vulnerable situation when you want to leave him, or he wants to leave you.
I can hear you already, blushing blonde housewife from the deep south.
But ah’ve always wanted a traditional Christian marriage, it’s not a woman’s place to work…
Well, unfortunately modern economics disagrees with you. Let’s look at wages. The average man can look to earn about $55,775 a year. Now how much does the average mortgage cost? $1,061 a month for 30 years at 4% interest. Wow. Things just got a bit tough in suburbia for poor old hubby. Now children- how much does raising an average child cost? $107,820. Each. Yikes.
Not working is inviting hardcore poverty, or at least debt, for the average middle American. Unless you are particularly unable to work, or your husband is a seriously high earner (we will get to that later) then being a housewife takes a massive chunk out of your household income. White linen aprons and washing machines for the stay at home mom simply do not exist in a modern system. The only people who can afford to be ladies of leisure are those married to seriously rich men. Thus, the stress for your probably-not-a-millionare meal ticket to keep you staying at home and not working a day in your life is going to be collossal. He needs that bonus or he can’t feed you. He has to work long shifts with little sleep just to keep up the illusion that the system is working. This will put strain on your marriage and on him. Alarmingly, a high percentage of suicides in America are based around male depression around debt and inability to bring in sufficient income for a household.
Ok, I hear you saying. I’ll marry a very very rich man.
Ha. Bad move, Cherise. You’ve ridden the snake all the way to the bottom of the board.
Very very rich men are aware that they are very very rich. They are, because of this, very very aware that lots and lots of very very ambitious women like them. Thus, you are replaceable. You are easily disposed of for wife 2 or 3. Maybe 14. He can also, because of the lifestyle to which you’ve been accustomed, power play the fuck out of you.You are going to have sex with him. You aren’t going to leave him. You are going to tolerate his affairs. You will be bullied, humiliated and dismissed. Yes I know, not all rich men, but you are really playing with fire. A man with resources is a man with power.
What if he really, really loves me?
Great, but don’t quit your job in Starbucks just yet. I know a lot of expat wives who have been unceremoniously ditched by the husband who has seen them grow older, more gaunt, more flawed. And because you are a temporary commodity (beauty fades) he still holds the keys (money, money money). Maybe he will always love you. But do you want to risk being stuck in Abu Dhabi with $40 to your name because Beloved Rupert has thrown you out of your luxury apartment?
Aha. But I can divorce him for that sweet sweet dolla.
Good luck sweetie. Because most very very rich men have very very good solicitors. And a divorce protocol advisary meeting. And he will have stashed his assets away long before you ever realised he was fucking Felicity. And he will drag your name through the dirt in court. And you risk losing custody of your children. And start telling all your friends that you are a crazy gold digger. And end up being a social outcast in the wrong end of San Francisco drinking gin by yourself aged 40 with no hope of a new fly in your web.
Also, it’s unkind.
Would you be okay with a man only marrying you for your money? And holding that relationship up while never loving you, and barring you from ever feeling that way with someone else? And knowing that every time he looked at you he was repulsed? And that he couldn’t wait for you to die to claim your earnings? That every day you went to work, he thrived in spending it, dreading the evenings where he had to pretend to lust after you?