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Abstract

almost funny.My neck hurts. It’s getting worse every day. From the second I wake up I feel it clenching.I asked my boyfriend recently if he could wash the dishes he creates during the day while I’m at work, and he immediately apologized, explaining that dish-washing just involves “so many steps,” and he finds it overwhelming, probably because of his low self-esteem. He said this with a straight face.He asked me recently why I’ve lost weight. He said that when we first started dating one of the things he liked about me was that I “wasn’t real thin.” [I was 5' 2" and 105 pounds, which actually is fairly thin, I think? He’s not great with words.]I’ve lost weight because I’m too stressed out to eat. He hasn’t worked in months now, and paying all of our bills is breaking me.I told him two weeks ago that I wanted to break the lease, that if he’s not going to work then we need to either split up so I can live on my own, or at least move into a smaller apartment that won’t eat up my whole salary.But he said “No,” of course, because then what would he do? The landlord said we can only break the lease if we both sign the paperwork, so now I’m stuck.My neck is killing me. It’s getting worse.I wish I could say that my situation is an anomaly, but whenever I want to bitch about it I have three close friends whom I can call immediately. Out of the four of us, my situation is actually the best one. Betsy’s husband is both lazy and abusive, which leads me to have ridiculous thoughts like, “Well, at least mine is nice. He never beats me up.” Honestly, he’s probably too lazy to beat anyone up.In a way, you have to hand it to men: they realized t

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hat women’s empowerment would eventually lead us to become self-sufficient, and they figured out how to capitalize on that. They saw how much weight we were capable of pulling, and they immediately jumped onto our backs along with everything else.I finally went to a doctor when I could no longer turn my head, and she told me my entire neck was just a mass of knots. She sent me to a massage therapist who worked miracles.But the knots always come back. I think my stomach must be a mass of knots as well, and I’m not sure what to do about that. The other day I asked my boyfriend if he could rub the knots out of my neck, and he sort of half-heartedly poked at me for a few minutes and then said he thinks he might be getting rheumatoid arthritis.I’m going to end this, of course. Right now I can’t get him to leave, and because we’re both on the lease, no one else can either — he hasn’t broken any laws or threatened anyone, which would be the criteria for forcing him out. This is the genius of lazy men: they’re so entirely passive that they can inflict harm without lifting a finger (literally; mine is still playing video games across the room as I write this).So we’ll ride out the lease because there’s no other option. And I’ll survive, and I’ll never let myself end up in this situation again. He, I imagine, will have to get a job (or, more likely, he will find another woman to support him).I wish there were a lesson in this article, a gem of “how-to-avoid-this” advice that could save other women, but the truth — and it’s a truth far too many women now understand — is that lazy men are a cancer. You don’t realize you have one until it’s too late.My neck is still killing me.</article></body>

There’s An Epidemic of Lazy Men, and Women are the Ones Getting Sick

My boyfriend gave me a rock for my birthday— not a diamond, but an actual rock that he found by the river on our first date. It’s romantic, I guess, that he saved it all this time. He said he knew the rock would mean more to me than if he gave me something he bought from a store.

He didn’t wrap it or anything — just handed me the rock right out of his pocket. He didn’t give me a card, either, because that would have been “too generic.” Instead, to go with my rock present, he told me a story about how during mating season a male penguin will present a female penguin with a smooth stone as a gift. He learned that on Reddit.

He learns lots of things on Reddit, and also on YouTube, because he spends a lot of time on the couch. I do not spend much time on the couch. I’m too busy working at my job, and then coming home from my job and working around our apartment.

He is supposedly looking for a job himself. He spends a lot of time online “looking for a job” while always backed up into a corner so that it’s impossible to see what’s on his screen. For most of these hours, he is moving both his pointer fingers across the mousepad rather than typing, which even I know means he’s playing video games. It’s almost funny.

My neck hurts. It’s getting worse every day. From the second I wake up I feel it clenching.

I asked my boyfriend recently if he could wash the dishes he creates during the day while I’m at work, and he immediately apologized, explaining that dish-washing just involves “so many steps,” and he finds it overwhelming, probably because of his low self-esteem. He said this with a straight face.

He asked me recently why I’ve lost weight. He said that when we first started dating one of the things he liked about me was that I “wasn’t real thin.” [I was 5' 2" and 105 pounds, which actually is fairly thin, I think? He’s not great with words.]

I’ve lost weight because I’m too stressed out to eat. He hasn’t worked in months now, and paying all of our bills is breaking me.

I told him two weeks ago that I wanted to break the lease, that if he’s not going to work then we need to either split up so I can live on my own, or at least move into a smaller apartment that won’t eat up my whole salary.

But he said “No,” of course, because then what would he do? The landlord said we can only break the lease if we both sign the paperwork, so now I’m stuck.

My neck is killing me. It’s getting worse.

I wish I could say that my situation is an anomaly, but whenever I want to bitch about it I have three close friends whom I can call immediately. Out of the four of us, my situation is actually the best one. Betsy’s husband is both lazy and abusive, which leads me to have ridiculous thoughts like, “Well, at least mine is nice. He never beats me up.” Honestly, he’s probably too lazy to beat anyone up.

In a way, you have to hand it to men: they realized that women’s empowerment would eventually lead us to become self-sufficient, and they figured out how to capitalize on that. They saw how much weight we were capable of pulling, and they immediately jumped onto our backs along with everything else.

I finally went to a doctor when I could no longer turn my head, and she told me my entire neck was just a mass of knots. She sent me to a massage therapist who worked miracles.

But the knots always come back. I think my stomach must be a mass of knots as well, and I’m not sure what to do about that. The other day I asked my boyfriend if he could rub the knots out of my neck, and he sort of half-heartedly poked at me for a few minutes and then said he thinks he might be getting rheumatoid arthritis.

I’m going to end this, of course. Right now I can’t get him to leave, and because we’re both on the lease, no one else can either — he hasn’t broken any laws or threatened anyone, which would be the criteria for forcing him out. This is the genius of lazy men: they’re so entirely passive that they can inflict harm without lifting a finger (literally; mine is still playing video games across the room as I write this).

So we’ll ride out the lease because there’s no other option. And I’ll survive, and I’ll never let myself end up in this situation again. He, I imagine, will have to get a job (or, more likely, he will find another woman to support him).

I wish there were a lesson in this article, a gem of “how-to-avoid-this” advice that could save other women, but the truth — and it’s a truth far too many women now understand — is that lazy men are a cancer. You don’t realize you have one until it’s too late.

My neck is still killing me.