My Boyfriend Lets Me Lift Heavy Objects Because He’s A Feminist

I’ve been in serious relationships before and in all honesty no one ever treated me like an equal. That was true until I met Carl, who, in my heart, I know is a true feminist. I know this because he has no problem letting me lift heavy objects, even ones that are dangerously heavy.

 

Now that’s a guy who supports strong, independent women!

 

Before this relationship, I always thought my boyfriends were feminists. But boy was I wrong. Now that I’m with a guy like Carl, who literally refuses to help me with any manual labor whatsoever, I know that the two guys I dated before this were not for me. The truth is, ladies, it’s a sign of a misogynist when a man open’s the door for you or helps you carry your new couch up the stairs! It means he doesn’t think you’re capable and that just isn’t right.

 

My friends are definitely skeptical – they have tried to convince me that I deserve a boyfriend who helps me with two-person jobs, like a month ago when I moved into my new apartment along (which resulted in me putting my back out, but I guess that’s just the price to pay for progress). Sure, maybe it would have been sort of nice to have someone help me carry my glass coffee table, which did shatter, up five floors. But hey, I’d rather be considered an equal partner in this relationship than have help with impossibly heavy furniture. Better to sacrifice your back than sacrifice your morals.

 

For those of you saying “this is not feminism”, let me correct you. Feminism is all about men treating you like equals, and them thinking you are too weak to carry your own furniture is really sexist. Sure, maybe Carl helped his roommate Steve when he carried his 82” flat screen upstairs, but if Steve had been a woman, Carl definitely would have not helped her. I don’t know about you, but that’s the kind of champion for women I want in my life.

 

 

As I lie here in my doctor’s chair (an appointment I made because the back muscle I pulled carrying all my stuff is now spasming), I can’t help but notice Carl never offered to take me to or from the doctor. But if he had, I would have broken up with him because that is not something a feminist would do.

 

You see, Carl leaves me to fend for myself, even when it would be nice to have a friend by my side right now. That’s how I know he is here for me, and here for women everywhere. Not physically or emotionally, of course, but in some other way he is pretty good at explaining.

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