Men Loving Women Is My Favourite Trope

Romance novels are bestsellers for a reason. They offer an escape, an immersion into lives far removed from our own. There are so many tropes found in romance novels that it’s hard to keep track. From childhood sweethearts, and golden retriever boy and black cat girl, to fake relationships, and enemies to lovers, there is a variety of stories that appeal to different people.

Men loving women is my favourite trope. You may think it’s a small ask, but in our world, stories with this trope are fewer and farther between. The reality is, healthy love is hard to achieve… and oftentimes, people just aren’t willing to put in the work for it. I’ve seen my fair share of failed relationships. Sometimes it was traumatically up close, and other times they were whisperings in the wind. So if you will, let me tell you a story about a woman who was once loved by a man.

She was a girl who wasn’t looking for a relationship. In fact, she often ran away from men who had even a hint of romantic interest for her. Eventually she grew out of that habit and rather directly confronted those who were too afraid to say anything. They weren’t her type. Not enough leadership material. Though, for the ones who had some kind of direction or even just some semblance of courage… rejection was still likely, but she would have gained some respect for the poor guy.

One day, someone changed her mind. Doubt was still fresh in her mind, but a man convinced her that she could be happier in a relationship with him. And for a time, he was right. The concerns she had in the first couple of months slowly melted away, and she looked forward to building a future with him. They were both busy people, but they made time for each other.

As the old message thread caught her attention, she began to open a can of worms she didn’t know if she was ready for. And she remembered a time she was once loved.

Perhaps it was because everything was still new and exciting, but she received a level of effort, dedication, and love she had never known before. Despite all of the lip service from him that expressed his astonishment—the sincerity and specificity of all the traits she possessed that amazed him—well, she felt like the lucky one. In her eyes, no one had been more openly encouraging, joyful, and courageous than him. She should have known then that such a person didn’t exist.

He kept up the façade for nearly two years. Or maybe he experienced certain things that left him changed forever. After all, there’s no way she would have received good morning messages almost daily and an abundance of reassurance in the frequented words, I love you. He never failed to remember to tell her that. Their messages were playful, thoughtful, and the relationship was… mutual. Both had busy lives, but were committed to making it work, and set aside time for each other.

He provided ample reassurance about how he felt about her, about their future together, and many more insecurities she had yet to overcome. He gave her his precious time… and she loved him. Of course, she pulled her weight too, for she stubbornly believed she needed to earn her keep. She would cook food or pay for some of their dates, and she would find creative ways to spend time together. All to ensure he wouldn’t get bored of her. But it wasn’t enough.

For a time, he made it very obvious that he loved her. His words were so very endearing and his soft demeanour, separate from how he acted around his friends, was adorable. He eased tension so easily in his comforting words… the, we’ll figure it out together‘s and I’m not going anywhere‘s. But that was from a lifetime ago. And in her rage and hurt, she had forgotten about all of those moments, until now.

While she looked at old messages, she recalled a time she visited his room.

Shortly after his family moved, he gave her a house tour and showed her his new room. Despite not having been settled in for so long, his desk was a familiar chaos. And there, amidst the clutter, she spotted a handwritten to-do list. Tell her you love her, she read. And on a different dot point, she saw, pray for her.

He was a bit of a forgetful guy, and even during those days, it drove her nuts that he would forget to tell her about certain events and sometimes other important information that would affect their immediate future. But when she caught a quick glimpse of that scrap piece of paper, she felt remarkably loved. It suddenly made sense to her why he would randomly message those, I love you‘s at random times.

Seeing all those messages, she missed the childlike joy she had experienced with him. She missed the safety he once provided and missed the support she once received. But somewhere along the way, he had changed. He stopped asking about her day, and slowly began to forget to tell her he loved her. And that was okay, because she still loved him for him. Not for what he did. But it began to hurt her a little while later.

He used to be the man she loved. The one who embraced her small obsessions like the limited Cajun and Szechuan sauces at McDonald’s, joining in her excitement for silly things. And even though she was overseas at the time, he had collected a handful of them to bring to her after she returned from Canada. And there was that too. Enthusiasm to video call while she was overseas. Small jokes about training, getting stronger, and being married before she visited Canada again.

He was determined, and thoughtful, and really goofy. Reassuring and comforting. He made lots of sweet and clever jokes, and called her by many endearing names. Like… miss cereal mix. And she also loved his resolve in carrying out small things like trying to fix his morning and bedtime routines. There was so, so much she loved about him. She just doesn’t know what happened for everything to change.

It filled her with a strange melancholic joy to read about a time she had actually been loved. It felt rather foreign to her… because it had been so long since she was loved properly.

How could she deny it? Men loving women was her favourite trope. There were markers that once led her to believe he would be a great leader and husband. She saw how he modelled love just like the way his father loved his mother, and she knew how servant-hearted he was. He revealed his strength in leadership through gentle words, embued with conviction. But the way he was… it’s sadly all in the past now.

Somewhere along the way, small promises kept being broken. And she began to form some kind of distrust in him. Eventually, disappointments became more frequent than the times he would show up for her… and she kept making excuses for him. She was no longer important—no longer a priority, and her standing with him was always uncertain. She lived in a state of insecurity for so long that she no longer knew the truth from fiction. She thought she was crazy or that she was doing something wrong.

But she was committed. She put in the work to change bad habits, to be more understanding… and to be the perfect girl. But after all her conceited efforts, she came to know the fallout between them wasn’t her fault. She tried. She really did. But nothing she did ever worked because he gave up on her. He began to blame her for her strange behaviour around his friends and family, and stopped reassuring her.

But he would never admit that he had given up. He wouldn’t admit he had gotten lazy. After all, they were still together… right? She was subjected to his avoidance. Important conversations had never been had, and she began to panic. He no longer wanted to talk to her and shut her out. And her mental faculties started to decline. Message frequencies dwindled, and his enthusiasm for shared time disappeared.

Because of the trust he had built—in all the reassurance and hope for their shared future, she thought it was a passing season. A difficult one, but one she thought they would share the burden together. He expressed doubt, not knowing how long he would suffer at the behest of his mental health, but she was committed to seeing it through with him. It wasn’t until much later that she discovered there was more to it than he let on.

So, in his dishonesty, he continued to string her along. Some people sowed seeds of doubt in his mind about her, and at first, he was open about it. But communication between them slowly stopped. She didn’t understand what the problem was and thought they would always figure it out together. Nothing they discussed was a deal-breaker. Yet, he didn’t know how to reconcile his love for her and the doubts he had. And he ran away.

She was angry that she had wasted so many years on him. She was upset for believing all of his lies. She was terrified that he had begun to take an interest in other women. There was so much she was justifiably distraught about. But she understood that love wasn’t enough… not that she believed she received any later on. Relationships don’t work when only one person fights for it. And she believes she was the fool for begging him to stay.

But as she continued to read through messages from a different time, she remembered why she chose him in the first place.

She hadn’t just thrown away her brain and picked a guy just because she was attracted to him. There were once many reasons to love him. He was strong and courageous. He was godly and seemingly had direction. And she genuinely enjoyed being with him… something she can’t really say about her first relationship. But he changed. For the worse.

He became more like the man she despised. It was someone he looked up to, but someone she thought very childish and selfish. He was a man with no regard for the consequences, and although not qualified to give any kind of diagnosis, she wholeheartedly believed him to be a narcissist. The man she once loved was so easily influenced by everything around him. And she realised she would never win.

She didn’t want to be with a man who made her question her worth. She didn’t want a man who so easily disrespected her boundaries and intentionally hurt her by covertly spending time with other women. She didn’t want to be with a cowardly man who allowed bad men to continue being bad men. No… she couldn’t be with a man like that.

She already found it difficult to try and forgive such a spineless man. But she is grateful to have been reminded why she chose him in the first place… even if it was because of traits he no longer possesses. It had been years since she last saw him at his best. And isn’t that a little sad? She thinks she is closer to forgiveness, but she is still deeply hurt by all the ways she was let down—how she was neglected and lied to, and how she was judged.

I mean, she still suffers from a discomfort that’s difficult to overcome. C-PTSD. Triggers have slowly faded as time marches on, but when they bare their fangs, her time continues to be stolen by the same man. It’s the random nightmares and strange flashbacks of being ignored and abandoned. The hopelessness of receiving nothing in return after mustering the courage to speak about her pain, despite feeling despairingly unsafe.

It’s hard to remember the best in people when you keep being hurt by the worst versions of them for years. The ones who dismiss your pain and then subconsciously blame you for it. Yeah, it’s the worst kind of feeling. She has become so jaded. Would it have been better if she had covered her eyes and blocked her ears for the last two years? Everything she has witnessed only reinforces the negative stereotypes she has heard about men.

They’re liars. Far from loyal. Immature and incapable of caring for anyone other than themselves. Sometimes even beyond creepy and stalkerish (but that’s another story). Need I say more? She is deeply traumatised by what she has seen and experienced. And I don’t think she deserved any of it.

Sometimes, it only takes one to taint your perception of something. But men loving women is still my favourite trope. I suppose it’s because it seems more like a fantasy than anything else. I desperately want to believe that men are capable of sacrificial love—that they actually love their wives or girlfriends and put in the effort to show it—but that’s no longer my default thought. I genuinely think the worst of men.

Do men who love women really still exist? I ask myself this question sometimes. I don’t really know anymore. I’ve seen too much, too many of the unfavourable qualities and bad habits men possess for me to definitively determine. But I hope you know that my view of men wasn’t just changed by the one person. I’d say there are at least two more who are responsible. A small handful, I know. However, it was enough to develop my trust issues that may last a lifetime.

But I know this much: I still have hope. For the many disappointing men I’ve had the dissatisfaction of knowing, God has placed a handful of good ones in my life who continue to show me not all is lost. They have been gracious and understanding, and most importantly, have proven to me they are trustworthy. Safe even. And for that, I am incredibly thankful. Whether it’s a false hope remains to be seen… but I don’t want to keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I’d like to believe, “not all men“. I’m just not there yet. After all, the majority of you still seem like the enemy to me. Sometimes, I become so livid watching how you mistreat women or because of how immature you can be, and other times, I’m terrified of what you might do to me when no one’s around. It’s not a good place to be. But despite everything I’ve seen and everything I’ve been through, men loving women really is my favourite trope. It really, really is.