"My Man, My Man, My Man": When the Joke No Longer Lands

TL;DR: We joke about "my man, my man, my man," but sometimes what looks like humor is closer to the reality of being male-centered than we'd like to admit. And that's when the joke is no longer funny.

Earlier this year, I went on a trip with a close friend (Hey, girl!) and we ended up talking about what it means to be a pick-me and, more broadly, to be male-centered. The topic came up while we were swapping vacation horror stories, like trips or outings where someone didn’t get male attention, and suddenly the whole experience was no longer worthwhile or fun (yes, very wack). I’m not sure if it was more shocking that we had similar experiences in entirely different social groups or that this wasn’t a unique experience.

We also talked about how hard it’s been, at times, to stay close to women who are really male-centered. Not because dating or relationships are unimportant, but because participating in those friendships often means performing their version of connection.

For example, I used to be friends with someone whose “how are you?” turned into a 30-minute, detailed rundown of men. Who said what, who texted, who didn’t, how many matches she had. At first, I figured she just really wanted a relationship, which is fair. Wanting a partnership or to be desired wasn’t the issue. What I couldn’t get jiggy with was how consuming it felt, and how her happiness seemed contingent on male attention.

When it was finally my turn to answer “how’s life,” I’d yap about work, friendships, family, whatever was GENUINELY top of mind. Well, chilè, apparently, that made me ‘secretive’. As if not mentioning my romantic life were a slight or some deliberate omission. This confused me for a while, because I wasn’t hiding anything. I just wasn’t centering men in my version of a life update.

Later, it clicked as to why that felt like such a slight to her. For a male-centered person, if you don’t report on men, it can feel like you’re withholding yourself. Because for many of them, men aren’t just part of life. They are life.

Lately, I’ve been seeing more articles about women in hetero relationships, and it feels kinda like a temperature check. They aren’t explicitly about male-centeredness, but I think they hint at a shift toward exploring identity in relationships and the costs of centering men.

This also makes me think more heavily about how male-centeredness is represented. On social media, the pick-me is often treated as a joke, like the lightweight “my man, my man, my man” caricature.

But male-centeredness feels deeper and more complicated than the “my man” jokes. It seems less about wanting a relationship and more about what someone is willing to tolerate, excuse, or participate in to obtain or keep one.

For example, one place male-centeredness shows up is in the quiet ways people can betray themselves. When I think about “betraying self,” I think about situations where someone describes their partner as homophobic while insisting they themselves are not like that, yet they remain in the relationship. This isn’t the meme-y, social-media version of seeking male approval we laugh about in Instagram skits. It’s something more serious. It’s sacrificing their own values just to hold on to a relationship. And ain’t shit funny about that.

Because there’s something deeply troubling about rejecting homophobia, misogyny, racism, or transphobia in theory, AND STILL building a life around someone who actively holds those views.

I see male-centeredness show up in other ways, such as in the choices people make that pull them away from their own truth to keep a relationship. That can look like shrinking themselves so someone else can feel bigger, letting a partner decide where they’re allowed to go, which friendships feel “acceptable,” or what opportunities they pass on, so their partner feels secure.

Sometimes it also shows up as women shaping themselves into the version of a partner they think will be chosen. Which makes me wonder what it means to “be chosen” if you’re not fully yourself. Will the satisfaction of being chosen be enough to carry someone through a relationship that requires them to bend, camouflage, go silent, and at worst, get lost inside of it? Spooky, huh?

Call me a monitoring spirit or whatever (I prefer student and observer of life, thank you very much), but when I notice these dynamics in real life, on social media, in music, and in literature, it doesn’t make me judgmental. It helps me get clear on how I want to show up in relationships, what I want to center, and what I won’t trade for partnership.

I dunno, maybe that’s why the “my man, my man, my man” jokes don’t hit the same for me anymore. I’ve started to wonder how blurred the lines are between the joke and the reality...and how easy it is to get lost somewhere between the two. Maybe I’m tripping, but what once felt like harmless fun now feels like a fine line, an aperitif to male-centeredness.

And this all makes me wonder how many others are making those same quiet clarifications after thinking, experiencing, and witnessing firsthand the downsides of centering men. Maybe more of us than we realize. I’m curious if anyone else has been having similar musings lately.

Anyway, ‘til next time.

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