“Why Do We Treat Men Like Misbehaving Women?” — A Love Lesson in Progress

It was Monday morning—my sacred ritual time.

The smell of oat-banana pancakes danced through the air while I sat at my desk with a freshly brewed café cortado made with lactose-free milk. My fingers hovered above the keyboard, waiting for inspiration to hit. You see, every Monday I listen to a podcast—my weekly creative spark, a soft nudge to remind me I’m a writer, a thinker, a woman with words to offer. That morning’s pick? An episode from Ellen Fisher’s podcast: The Queen’s Code: Advice Women NEED to Hear, featuring relationship expert Alison Armstrong.

And somewhere between bites of pancakes and sips of warm caffeine, one sentence from Alison cracked something open in me:

“Women treat men like women who are not acting right.”

I paused the audio, mid-chew. Rewound. Listened again.

It was one of those phrases that sticks to your mind like honey. It clung to my thoughts, lingered in the steam of my coffee, and nestled itself into the way I began to observe my relationship (my first serious one, by the way).

Suddenly, so many of the things that used to frustrate me didn’t feel like incompatibilities anymore—they felt like misunderstandings. Misinterpretations. A difference in wiring, not willingness.

Let me explain.

I’m the type of person who tidies first, then rests. I like order. It calms me. My partner? He rests first, then tidies. He decompresses and then kicks into action like a slow-burning engine. For a long time, that difference drove me mad. I’d find myself thinking, “Why can’t he just do it my way?”—the way that seems logical, efficient, helpful… right.

But Alison’s words echoed again: we treat men like women who are not acting right. And suddenly, it all made sense.

Because if a female friend did that—if she stayed in bed while I was moving around making everything tidy—I’d probably judge it as inconsiderate. I’d expect her to mirror me, to meet my energy. And so, when my boyfriend doesn’t, I don’t see him as different. I see him as wrong. But what if he’s not being careless or lazy? What if he’s just being… him?

That realization didn’t just soften my perception—it felt like a small but meaningful moment of growth. A shift in perspective that made me feel like I was maturing alongside the relationship.

And no, it doesn’t mean I’ve let go of expectations or that I don’t still crave effort and intention. But it means I’m learning to approach things differently. I’m learning to ask: How can we co-create a new way of doing things together, instead of measuring everything by my default settings?

Take this tiny but lovely routine we’ve created:
When he stays over, he knows I like starting my day with a made bed—it gives me a sense of order. So now, I go shower first while he enjoys a few extra minutes of rest. But by the time I come out, the bed is made, everything is tidy, and he’s just lying there peacefully, waiting for his turn in the bathroom. It’s subtle, but it matters. Because instead of telling him to do things on my clock, I trust him to show up in his own rhythm—and he does.

It’s a tiny adjustment. But it feels like intimacy.

And no—this isn’t a “my relationship is perfect” essay. Every relationship is a unique equation with its own variables and chaos. But I wanted to write this for someone out there who might be like me—someone who sometimes feels a little disconnected or frustrated when their partner doesn’t meet their expectations in the exact way they imagined.

Maybe it’s not about lowering your standards. Maybe it’s about reframing the way you see difference—as a space to build, not a sign of failure.

Because when I stopped treating my boyfriend like a misbehaving version of myself and started seeing him as a fully different, wonderful version of him—that’s when things started to click.

And honestly? That kind of slow, intentional learning…
Feels a lot like love.