A woman I used to be close to always dated men by splitting the bill.
She described herself as someone who liked “highly educated, low-income men.”
I suppose she often got involved with men who wanted to pay but simply couldn’t.
To be fair, poor but intelligent men can sometimes be more humorous than wealthy, well-adjusted ones.
Lacking money, they may evolve in that direction instead.
Still, it was hard not to notice something else in her choices:
a desire to remain in the position of the one who understands.
She worked at a stable company.
When I asked why she chose it, she told me that the man she liked around the time of graduation was a comedian,
and she thought that with a steady income, she might be able to support him.
The last man she became deeply involved with was told that she had 2 million yen in savings.
When I asked why she would say that, she replied,
“He said he had no money, so I thought he might rely on me.”
But men who are acutely aware of their own poverty often have fragile pride.
If they find out that the woman they’re seeing has more savings than they do, that pride can easily collapse.
Especially if they are intelligent men with a sense of self-respect.
I told her that two million yen can be enough money to kill someone,
and that she probably shouldn’t disclose something like that to a man who has nothing.
She split the bill on dates and quickly entered sexual relationships.
Some people might call that freedom or equality,
but to me, it always looked like she was the one offering herself first.
After sleeping with men, she sometimes fell ill and had to go to see a doctor.
Each time, I felt a quiet sadness—like she was the one losing out.
Not because she was foolish or careless,
but because she always seemed to take on the role of the understanding one.
Over time, I began to think that what looked like devotion
might actually have been a form of control.
By placing herself in a position of being “needed,”
she was creating relationships that were difficult to leave.
That may have been her way of relating.
To men, this was suffocating.
They would accept a sexual relationship,
but they would not choose her as a partner.
This pattern repeated itself again and again.
She had skills. She had things to give.
Those things were often useful in the real lives of the men she slept with.
Still, she was either abandoned,
or she chose to leave first.
Eventually, she married.
On their first date, the man told her, “I’m aromantic.”
They moved in together, and she reportedly said,
“If we’re living together, then we’re getting married by this date.”
And so they did.
She had always said she preferred men with attractive faces.
He did, in fact, have a delicate, androgynous beauty.
From what she told me, married life turned her into something like a device that keeps daily life running.
One evening, when she had to work late,
she sent him detailed instructions over LINE (Japanese WhatsApp ) on how to make curry.
When she got home, the curry was done—but the rice hadn’t been cooked.
Unless explicitly instructed, he did nothing.
At their wedding, they handed out a magazine-style program.
Inside was a section titled What we like about each other.
She wrote: His face.
He wrote: Her knowledge.
That stayed with me.
She once said,
“I’ll resent him for the rest of my life for not buying me a ring.”
But I couldn’t imagine a man who had built an entirely split-the-bill relationship
suddenly offering “symbolic money” at the moment of marriage.
Splitting the bill may look equal,
but in reality, it is also a process of mutually confirming
where the line is drawn—
This is as far as I’ll go.
A ring is not just about love.
It’s a declaration: I will take responsibility.
Someone who refuses to make that declaration
doesn’t suddenly decide to do so.
After that, she began directing her unresolved frustrations about her husband toward me.
That was when I stepped away.
The last time we met, she told me,
“We’re not having sex anymore. I want to fall in love.”
Apparently, she still looks at the social media of the man she once loved the most.
She was always an understanding woman.
Probably to the very end.
I doubt she’ll ever choose divorce—
appearances matter too much to her.
I still hope, somehow,
that she can live without ever realizing
that this was her private hell.
