Date a woman who’s stronger than me? Never.

It just messes with all the roles men and women are *supposed* to have.

Men are supposed to be protectors to women. How is that supposed to work if I come home to her doing pull-ups to exhaustion every day? And what if it’s still not enough weight, so she asks me to grab on to her while she does pull-ups, and puts my hands on her broad, steel-cable lats, and asks if I like them, and I say that I do, and she says that she likes me too, and she likes how light and cute I am, and it makes me blush? Huh?

Or like, what if we’re walking around after drinks and I tell her my feet hurt, so she picks me up and starts carrying me around, then she puts her jacket on me because I’m shivering, and sure, it makes me feel so small but it also makes me feel so safe, like a baby kitten being cradled by a Transformer? You call that natural? I wouldn’t.

And then I can’t open a pickle jar, so I ask if she can, and she asks me if I’ve been a good boy for mommy, and I say I have been, so can she *pease open my pickie-wickies*, so she opens the jar, but then she puts me in a headlock so her massive bicep cuts off my carotid artery, but in, like, that good way, and starts feeding me pickles, and puts on season 4 of Mr. Robot because, even though she’s not really into it, she knows that I am, and it’s important that we spend more time together as a couple?

Uh, no thanks.