Why Do We Shrink Ourselves for Men?

What my little Christmas tree taught me about what was wrong with my relationship

On Friday 8th December, I was walking through London Fields and stopped with a pang of shame. I was on my way to buy a Christmas tree and suddenly felt very self-conscious. It’d be obvious at the tree shop that I’m single and living alone and even though I’m very comfortable with dining alone, travelling alone and moving through life alone, there was something about this that hurt. This is my first Christmas being single since December 2019.

A couple of days earlier in London Fields, I’d felt a similar pang of loneliness when I saw three housemates wearing Santa hats carrying a big tree home. They were laughing together and sharing the weight. Pangs of loneliness like these come with the territory of my life. 

I wanted my tree, so forced myself to keep going. Once I arrived, a couple was arguing about which tree to get. I glided past their intense energy and hovered around the smaller tree section until the man came to help me. 

‘Which of these can I carry home?’ I asked. 

‘All of them,’ he joked and I instantly felt better. Because yes, I’m alone, but I’m also strong. I’ve been working on my strength all year. 

He then lifted a small(ish) tree in its pot and put it in my arms and I set off home. It was a slow, long, slightly painful walk, but I did it. 

The moment I set up my tree and turned on its lights was significant. My ex, who I was living with last year, hadn’t ‘allowed’ us to get a Christmas tree.

In general, he was against us getting things for our home. He’d argue because we were just renting it was a waste of money to do so, whispering beneath those arguments that he didn’t want us to lay down any roots. The little Christmas tree I carried home by myself is a symbol of my independence and freedom from someone who didn’t want to build a life with me. Or he was just a bit grumpy and joyless. Who cares, I have my tree. 

The following Monday evening, my throat started to burn and it turned out to be covid. I spent the next six days on my sofa, facing my TV and my tree. The tree’s lights glistened at me and kept me cheery through what could have been a dark time. 

As with many of the fights with my ex, I fought weakly and gave up quickly. He’d also said no to us getting a dehumidifier, even if I offered to pay for it myself. I now own one and I’m so happy with it. Whenever I freely buy things for my home, I feel so much power. I also feel a twinge of sadness for the person I was who didn’t fight harder for my wants and needs. 

Each morning, I turn on my tree lights and I’m happy to be rid of him. Forget his cheating, I should have walked away when he wouldn’t let me have my tree. He’d argue trees should be left outside and it’s unethical to have them in the home. He was very into ethics for someone who ultimately did something so unethical towards me. How one acts on their own doorstep says more to me about them than their righteousness over others. 

One of my closest friends was upset that I couldn’t have a tree last year. When I broke up with my ex in February for cheating, one of the first things she said to me was that she couldn’t wait for me to have my tree. 

My little tree

I’d be bothered too if a friend told me they weren’t allowed a tree by some man. Unfortunately though, when you’re in the relationship, excuse the pun but you can’t see the wood from the trees. Friends may gently point these things out to us, but I wasn’t listening. 

I’m not proud to admit this story of how I dismissed my needs. I see myself as a confident, strong and independent woman and yet this time last year, I’d lost my sparkle. At the very least, I wish I’d fought harder. I wish I’d shouted, stamped on the floor and screamed: ‘WHY WON’T YOU LET ME HAVE MY TREE?’ 

However, I didn’t because I was terrified of the true answer. Part of me had given up and shrunk myself in various ways to avoid facing the reality that I was bending myself to a man who couldn’t commit. Our dynamic could have gone on for a very long time. Then I caught him cheating on a dating app out of the corner of my eye and I was gifted something tangible that made it clear that he was never going to commit. 

Step inside my home now and you’ll see a different truth. I’ve built a home, untethered from a man with nice lighting. 

Why do we shrink ourselves for men? 

It’s fear. 

Fear that we won’t find something better. 

It’s a legitimate fear, as it’s one that I’m living in now. And as this New York Times article states:

‘For as long as people have been promoting marriage, they have also been observing that a good man is hard to find’ 

The article, titled: Why Aren’t More People Marrying? Ask Women What Dating Is Like, goes on to say: 

‘But harping on people to marry from high up in the ivory tower fails to engage with the reality on the ground that heterosexual women from many walks of life confront: the state of men today.’ 

‘But what was once dismissed as the complaint of picky women is now supported by a raft of data.’ 

I don’t need to see the data, I see the gap between straight men and women in my own life.  I’m constantly meeting inspiring and interesting women. They’re deep thinkers with high emotional intelligence who are fun, glamorous and witty. Yet, in parallel, I’m going on first dates with men who can barely hold a conversation. 

It’s a problem. Women in their thirties are going to therapy, self-actualising, working out, reading books and giving time to fulfilling friendships. Whereas single men I know are running around getting drunk with women in their twenties they’ve met on dating apps. Women don’t need to get smaller to accommodate these men, men need to get bigger. They, too need to expand their lives and their selves. Except, the way society is set up, they often don’t have to. My ex is already with someone else and I’m struggling to find someone. This is simply unfair. 

But no matter how hard dating may be or how long until I find someone, I assure you, it’s worse to stay in a bad relationship. I’m living the life I shrunk myself to avoid and it’s a good one. My tree has reminded me of that for the last twelve days. 

Being ill and single wasn’t so bad. My activities oscillated between watching television, tidying and ordering  Ottolenghi carrot cake to my door. Friends regularly checked I was ok. I missed some fun social events, but there are plenty more coming up in my calendar. 

People worry so much about single people, but they should worry about people who might be shrinking themselves in relationships. We deserve men who approach life with joy and want to co-create with us. 

I’ve settled into my home by myself, but I’m still leaving an empty drawer for my partner who’s coming eventually. He’ll have muscles (or a car!) to take our Christmas tree home. In the meantime, I’ll move my tree in its pot to the balcony and mind it in case I need it again for next year.

With love,

Tiff x

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