“Why are you with me?” (The puzzle never considered)


There comes a point in the life of most thinking men when, in the midst of an intimate, “serious” relationship, they happen to experience a day, or ten, in which they are feeling down and unsure about their lot in life.


Despite the fact they have a girlfriend, shit just isn’t going well, and they feel edgy about how their existence is unfolding. It’s normal for thinking men to be troubled by fits of self-doubt. It’s inevitable and comes with the cerebral territory. This nagging self-doubt can range just about any aspect of his life that is prone to inquisitive exposure by others, including the girlfriend.


During such bouts, it’s not uncommon for the man to instinctively ruminate, privately, over the ghastly good blessing of why, why, just why, would this girl want to date such a man as he. He can’t help but obsessively toy with this destructive doubt around the playing board of his mind. Why is this girl, this girl who professes her love and time to him, with such a lowly man as he? The self-doubt is excruciating and rather than suppress the thought and corral it into the private confines of his sheltered mind, the natural tendency for many men is to not only let the thought out into the light of day, but to openly ask the girl, naively, why she has chosen to be with him. The implicit weakness and powerless devolution into submission that such a question rankles when a man asks his girlfriend is dangerous.


What is it that compels a man to verbalize such a personal vulnerability? It’s as if the psychic battle brewing in his mind over the unanswered question cannot be contained without needless confrontation, and his choice to verbalize it is a powerless and futile attempt at turning such dejection into the fodder of discussion and antagonistic triggers. The urge to reveal his ambivalence is further emboldened by a personal belief that baring such conversation will assuage his doubts, but in reality, it will do nothing of the sort.


In addition, the question is insulting to the woman asked, for it essentially judges her standards and selectivity by questioning her choice in mating partner. It’s a very meta approach for a man to take in the quest to tear himself down. He’s already done a tidy job himself, but now he must conclude by allowing his girlfriend to wrap it up with his shaky approbation. He even urges her on if she does not come forward with a suitably tarnishing appraisal of his less than illustrious presence in her life.


“Please tell me, why are you with me?” he coaxes when she refuses to answer, because most likely, this question was sprung on her quite by surprise. So he perceives her lack of clear answer as a shameful cover-up when in reality, she doesn’t know what to say.




The question is a tragic one for a man to ask her because women are extremely susceptible to the power of suggestion. A woman might have never entertained the notion of why she is giving him the time of day. It probably never crossed her mind.


Until the question dribbled stubbornly out his trembling lips.


Now, it’s planted. That question festers in her mind and she cannot shed it!


As he walks away, content that he troubled her with such an irresistible compulsion, the question blossoms in her mind and she ponders the puzzle she never considered. It becomes a fragile embodiment mounted precariously in her psyche, and she begins to doubt him the more his question ferments in her thoughts. A doubt that was stillborn until he gave it life with his needlessly explosive question.


“Why are you with me?”


And now, she begins to ask herself this.


If you’re a thinking man and you find yourself asking this about your girlfriend, do not pose the question audibly. Never utter it, for to do so is akin to planting the seed of doubt in her mind and your presence in her life is the water that will nourish that little fucking seedling for days to come.


Next time you feel this pang of self-doubt stirring in your weak little head, perhaps you should garner that brainpower and re-state the question.


“Why am I with her?”