I had always vowed not to perform wifely duties in a relationship just to prove that I was “wife material.” I told myself that if doing those things for a man I was not married to would not make me a wife, then so be it. I was very firm on that decision.

Until I met this man. I did not go into the relationship with the intention of doing any of those things. But it was how he asked. Calmly. Lovingly. He would say he was overwhelmed with work and just needed a little help. It never felt like a command.

He did not live permanently in the town. He would come every two weeks, stay for about a week, then leave again. So the time we had together always felt limited, almost like we were trying to make the most out of borrowed time.

The first time I washed his clothes, it felt like I was fighting myself. I remember touching his shirt and cringing. I kept thinking, how did I get here? This is not something I do. I was uncomfortable, almost suffocating in my own thoughts. It was my first time washing a man’s clothes who I was not related to. But as I stood there, rinsing and scrubbing, I kept convincing myself that it was not a big deal. After all, if we got married, I would do these things anyway.

The second time was different. It was not as heavy. I was not overthinking as much. It started to feel normal.

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I got to a point where I would fetch water and fill his small barrel for him. Meanwhile, I do not even fetch water in my own house. That is how far I had stretched myself without even realizing it at first. Anytime I was done, he would try to give me money. And every single time, I refused. I told him I was doing everything willingly. I did not want it to feel transactional. I did not want it to seem like I was being paid to care. And to be fair, it was not like I met a dirty environment. His place was always cleaned before I got there. That was part of what made it easier for me to do what I did. It felt balanced in its own way.

I was doing all this out of my own free will until one day he asked if I could start cooking for him too.

That was where I paused. As expressive as I am, I asked him directly if he was putting me to a test or trying to confirm whether I was a good cook. I told him clearly that I do not like being tested. It makes me uncomfortable. He reassured me that it was not about that. He said he just wanted to enjoy my cooking and share that part of life with me.

He would also send me money sometimes without me asking. He knew I was not the type to demand or request things, so he would just do it on his own.

And we were in a good place. Then life stepped in and showed us it was not that simple. We did not get the happy ending you would expect from a story like this. We didn’t fight. There was no dramatic fallout. We simply had to let each other go so that peace could exist. There were sensitive reasons involved, things that could not be ignored or worked around.

And after everything, I have come to understand something very clearly.

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Helping your partner with chores is not a death sentence. It does not reduce you. It does not automatically mean you are being used. But what is not right is entitlement. Especially when it comes from men who begin to expect these things as a given. There is a difference between asking and assuming. There is a difference between appreciation and entitlement.

You should not impose your household responsibilities on a woman just because she is in a relationship with you.

If you need help, communicate it. Ask with respect. And she will help if she is willing. But it should never feel like something she is obligated to do.

—Joana

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