Soft women only 😤
The first thing she does is laugh.
Not a soft laugh. Not even a polite one. It bursts out of her like something that has been waiting years for permission.
“Wait,” she says, wiping the corner of her eye. “You’re breaking up with me because I’m a feminist?”
Across the living room, Daniel shifts his weight. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jeans like he’s trying to keep them from doing something stupid.
“Yes.”
The word lands flat in the air between them.
She stares at him.
Then she laughs again.
“Wait… you’re joking.”
“I’m not joking.”
“No, you have to be joking.” She gestures wildly around the room like the answer might be hiding somewhere between the couch and the half-finished wine bottle on the table. “You want to break up with me because I’m too much of a feminist for you?”
“Yes.”
There’s no hesitation this time.
That annoys her more.
Her eyes narrow.
“So when did you realize this?” she asks slowly. “Because we’ve been together for three years, Daniel. Three. Whole. Years. Suddenly I’m too much of a feminist?”
He sighs the way people sigh when they think they’re being reasonable.
“It’s not sudden.”
“Oh really?”
“No.”
She folds her arms.
“Then explain.”
He rubs the back of his neck.
“You’ve always had your… ideology about men.”
“My ideology about men,” she repeats.
“Yes.”
“You mean the radical ideology that men should behave like normal human beings and treat women with basic decency?”
“That’s not what I—”
“That’s literally what feminism is.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“This thing,” he says, gesturing vaguely at her entire existence.
She blinks.
“This thing?”
“Yes. This. You’re twisting everything I say.”
“No, Daniel. I’m asking you to explain the nonsense you’re saying.”
His jaw tightens.
“It’s not just the ideology,” he says. “It’s the way you’ve embodied it.”
“Embodied it?”
“Yes.”
She waits.
“You’ve made it your entire personality.”
For a second, she just stares at him.
Then she lets out a short disbelieving breath.
“So my ‘entire personality’ is… caring about the way women are treated?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
“No,” he snaps. “What I said is that you’re always in victim mode.”
The room goes very still.
“Victim mode,” she repeats quietly.
“Yes.”
“So my constant commentary about how men should behave better is victim mode.”
“That’s not what I—”
“That’s exactly what you mean.”
Daniel runs a hand down his face like this conversation is physically exhausting him.
“It just makes you… loud.”
“Loud.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t like loud women.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You literally just said it.”
“No, I didn’t. I said you’re too much sometimes.”
“Oh.”
She nods slowly.
“Too much.”
“Yes.”
“Too loud.”
“Yes.”
“Too opinionated.”
“I didn’t say—”
“And everyone knows your girlfriend is a feminist and that embarrasses you.”
“I didn’t say it embarrasses me.”
“But it does.”
He hesitates.
And that hesitation tells her everything.
She laughs again, but this time there’s no humor in it.
“Oh my God,” she says. “You’re actually ashamed of me.”
“I’m not ashamed of you.”
“Then what are you ashamed of?”
He exhales sharply.
“I just want a soft woman.”
The sentence floats into the room like a bad smell.
“A soft woman,” she repeats.
“Yes.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“A woman who understands the norm of life.”
“The norm of life?”
“Yes.”
She tilts her head.
“You mean a woman who doesn’t get angry when society is misbehaving?”
“Exactly.”
There it is.
She claps once.
“Wow.”
“What?”
“You actually said it out loud.”
“Said what?”
“That women getting angry about injustice is abnormal.”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“That’s exactly what you said.”
“You’re twisting it.”
“I’m not twisting anything.”
He throws his hands in the air.
“Look, the world isn’t perfect.”
“Oh really? Thank you for the update.”
“But constantly being angry about it doesn’t fix anything.”
Her eyes flash.
“So we should just shut up?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“I’m just saying this is how the world works.”
“How the world works.”
“Yes.”
“At the end of the day,” he says, shrugging, “it’s a man’s world.”
Silence.
Then she bursts out laughing again.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“If it’s a man’s world,” she says, leaning forward, “then why don’t all of you gather yourselves and go live in one fucking place together?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“You keep questioning me.”
“Yes.”
“And it makes me uncomfortable.”
She stares at him like he just admitted he eats furniture.
“So the fact that I keep questioning you about why you want to break up with me makes you uncomfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“Why are you saying it like that?”
“Because I’m fascinated.”
“By what?
“By the fact that you think asking questions is aggression.”
He shakes his head.
“You’re trying to trap me.”
“I’m asking you to clarify your stupid statements.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say you were stupid.”
“You implied it.”
“Oh my God.”
She runs her hands through her hair.
“I think you’re trying to provoke me into screaming,” she says.
“That’s not what I’m doing.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Because it feels like you want me to become the angry feminist stereotype so you can feel justified.”
His face reddens.
“That’s not fair.”
“Oh, fairness matters now?”
“I just want a normal life!”
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“Normal.”
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“A peaceful life.”
“With a quiet woman?”
“With a woman who isn’t angry all the time.”
Her voice rises.
“I’m angry because every single thing men do constantly pisses me off!”
“That’s exactly the problem!”
“I can’t go out at night without worrying about a man grabbing me!”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Am I?”
“Yes!”
“I can’t walk down the street without someone sexualizing me!”
“You’re projecting.”
“PROJECTING?”
“Yes! You’re acting like every man is evil.”
She laughs sharply.
“You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“Every time a man says women are horrible, you don’t see me raising my hand saying ‘but I’m one of the good ones.’”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Why?”
“Because—”
“You see?” she cuts in. “You don’t even know why.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then explain it.”
He hesitates.
And she pounces.
“You can’t.”
“You don’t get it.”
“I don’t get it?”
“No.”
“You are not the one men kill,” she says suddenly.
The words hit him like a slap.
“You’re not the one men look at and decide to hurt for sport.”
“That’s extreme.”
“No, it’s reality.”
“Stop exaggerating.”
“Men beat women every day.”
“That’s not most men.”
“Men think they have the right to dominate women.”
“That’s not—”
“You’re trying to silence me.”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are.”
He steps back like she physically pushed him.
“You know my parents are traditional,” she continues, voice shaking now. “You know if you tell them I’m too loud they’ll side with you.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“You’re manipulating the narrative.”
“I’m not manipulating anything!”
“You are.”
He stares at her in disbelief.
“You know what your problem is?” she says.
“What?”
“You’re worse than the men who openly do bad things.”
His eyes widen.
“What?”
“The men who assault women know they’re bad.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“But men like you?” she continues, voice rising, “men who pretend to be good while silencing women? You’re worse.”
“That’s insane.”
“No, it’s honest.”
“I’m not a bad man.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
His face hardens.
“And this,” he says coldly, “is exactly why I want to break up with you.”
“Oh please.”
“What?”
“You can break up with me if you want.”
“Good.”
“But don’t pretend it’s because of feminism.”
“What else would it be?”
“You’re bored.”
He scoffs.
“And you found someone else.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is she quiet?”
He doesn’t answer.
Her smile turns sharp.
“Ah.”
“That’s not what’s happening.”
“Sure.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“You once told me you wished I was quieter.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“So congratulations,” she says. “If the new girl is quiet, you should definitely stay with her.”
He clenches his fists.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re pathetic.”
“Wow.”
“No, really,” she says. “I refuse to be silenced by a man.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“I might even let a woman silence me,” she says thoughtfully. “Women have better arguments.”
“Unbelievable.”
“But a man?” she scoffs. “Absolutely not.”
He stares at her like he’s seeing a stranger.
“You’re choosing feminism over our relationship?”
She doesn’t hesitate.
“I would choose it over and over again.”
“You see?” he says, pointing.
“What?”
“You’re angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
“Yes, you are.”
She takes a step forward.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“Get out.”
He blinks.
“What?”
“I said get out.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“You’re kicking me out of your house?”
“Yes.”
He grabs his jacket.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
They stand there staring at each other.
Three years collapsing between them like a burned building.
Then he turns.
He walks to the door.
He opens it.
He pauses.
For a moment it looks like he might say something.
Instead he walks out.
The door slams so hard the picture frames shake.
The apartment goes silent.
She stands there breathing hard, staring at the door.
Then she sinks onto the couch.
And suddenly the quiet is louder than the fight.
Her phone buzzes.
She looks at the screen.
Her best friend.
She answers.
“Hello?”
“Did you finally tell him?”
She exhales slowly.
“No.”
A pause.
“He told me.”
JoyzTheLostWriter ❤️🔥
Wish I can like this more than once 😑
How does speaking up make you aggressive?
This boy Dey craze