Linda slammed her mug onto the laminate table so hard the instant coffee jumped out like it was trying to escape the conversation.
“I’m done,” she announced, leaning across the table with absolute finality. When I asked her with what, she didn’t hesitate: “Men. It’s over. Men simply don’t want to give girlfriend allowances anymore.”
I stared at her, pausing mid-sip. “Girlfriend allowances? Is that constitutional?”
“It should be,” she snapped. “Men used to understand their responsibilities. Taking care of transport, airtime, eating out, emergencies, just little things.”
“How little?” I asked. “Maybe E5 000.” “That is not a little thing, Linda,” I noted. “That is a dependent. You’ve basically adopted an adult.” She ignored my arithmetic entirely. “Men claim they want independent women, but the moment you actually become independent, they start complaining.” “No,” I replied, setting my mug down. “It sounds like everybody wants equality, but only with customised settings.” Modern dating has become hilarious because affection now arrives with terms, conditions and a scheduled payment date, yet nobody bothers to read the fine print. We tend to adopt equality like a new gym membership; enthusiastically in January, but highly selectively thereafter.
A woman will proudly declare, ‘I don’t need a man!’ which is wonderful until she lists the specifications for her ideal partner, his own place, a car and an implicit guarantee that she will never have to walk anywhere again. Independence has apparently reached its final evolution; carefully choosing which man is going to finance it. Men, however, are equally ridiculous. A brother will announce to the world, ‘I want an independent woman with her own career and money’. Yet the moment she offers to split the dinner bill, his fragile masculinity panics and he becomes deeply traditional.
“No, no, no, I’m the man,” he’ll insist, while simultaneously complaining about the cost of the date. Some men love the idea of an independent partner right up until her independence becomes financially inconvenient. He wants her to earn her own living, but still wants to claim, ‘I take care of my woman’. She is taking care of herself; you are merely taking care of the corporate branding. Then you have the men who have elevated refusing an allowance into a high-minded moral crusade. They sit back and proclaim, I don’t believe in girlfriend allowances because I refuse to participate in transactional relationships.
Yet this same man will spend three hours negotiating over the budget for her birthday outfit. That isn’t romance, that is an emergency Board meeting with key shareholders. When you grill him on his actual financial contribution, he’ll proudly tell you he buys things when necessary. You ask what things and he says flowers. You ask how much and he says E150 on Valentine’s Day. His entire annual girlfriend budget is E150, but he wraps it up in noble principles because men love principles when they save them money. Women, of course, have developed their own diplomatic vocabulary. A woman no longer says, ‘Give me money’. Instead, she softly says, ‘Baby, I’m just asking for support’. Support is a beautifully elastic term that can mean a quick E100 airtime transfer, help with groceries, or: “My friends are going to Ezulwini this weekend and I refuse to be the only person drinking tap water.” Suddenly, a local relationship has expanded into international tourism. Social media only accelerates the madness. One woman posts a photograph of a massive bouquet and another sees it and immediately confronts her partner: “You’ve never bought me flowers!”
Her friend chimes in, suggesting he isn’t romantic and within 10 minutes they’ve concluded he’s just stingy. A single posted bouquet is capable of causing three separate break-ups in one afternoon. Nobody is allowed to be happy privately anymore because the algorithm demands evidence.
You must post her, buy her things and take her places. A man can be faithful for five years, pay rent, contribute to school fees and show up in every crisis, but if he forgets a birthday post on Instagram, his entire character is brought up for judicial review: “Do you even actually love me?” The allowance becomes more than money; it becomes proof of value, reassurance that she isn’t wasting her prime years. To be fair, some men get it completely wrong by bluntly declaring, ‘I’m not giving any woman my money’. That’s fine, but if your total contribution to her life is a ‘good morning, beautiful’ text and three missed calls, don’t be surprised when she opens a performance review on your contract.
Equally, women need to stop pretending every relationship comes with an executive remuneration package. A boyfriend is not an employer, there is no HR department, no health insurance and no annual performance bonus, though some relationships clearly operate on a strict probation period.
“Let’s see how he behaves,” she’ll say and six months later: “He has failed his probation.”
Men face recruitment interviews too. A date quickly turns into a interrogation: “What are your intentions? I want something serious. Do you have a car?
“I have a driving licence.” “Thank you for your time, we will contact you if a suitable role opens up.”
At this point, we aren’t dating anymore, we are actively running HR recruitment drives. The advertised position for ‘boyfriend’ requires minimum qualifications, emotional availability, financial stability, physical attractiveness, a respectable family background, a reliable vehicle, suitable accommodation, strong communication skills and occasional, unprompted financial assistance. The starting salary is love, the benefits depend heavily on weekly performance, the working hours are 24/7, annual leave is not recognised, probation is indefinite and termination arrives abruptly with the words: “We need to talk.” Linda finished the last drop of her coffee and looked at me. “So, after all that speech, do you agree men should give allowances or not?”
“No,” I told her. She frowned. “Then what do you actually believe?”
“I believe two adults should be honest about what they expect from the start. If you expect an allowance, find a man who is happy to provide one. If he refuses, find somebody else. And if nobody in the market wants to give it…” I smiled.
“Then, my sister, you have officially discovered capitalism.” She laughed, picking up her bag and that really is the core of the problem. We have taken something as beautifully complicated as human love and tried to run it like a small business. Women want guaranteed returns, men want maximum value, everybody wants comprehensive benefits and nobody wants to pay the hidden costs. Between the first date and the first major argument, romance devolves into a cold corporate negotiation: “What exactly am I getting out of this investment?”
Perhaps we ought to ask a better question. Instead of asking, “What can you provide for me?” we should be asking, “What can we build together?”
If a relationship completely collapses the moment the allowance stops, it wasn’t love that was paying the bills in the first place, love was simply the invoice.
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