So, you want to stop being called difficult? Here's your five-step guide:
Rule #1: Never express an opinion too strongly. Or at all, even. A well-placed nod, a murmured agreement, a quiet smile — these are the hallmarks of a woman who knows her place in love. If you must speak, keep it light, agreeable, and pleasing.
Rule #2: Never ask for what you need. He'll either figure it out (unlikely) or he won't (inevitable), but whatever you do, do not make a fuss. Love should be effortless, they say. And if you require effort, well, you're already failing.
Rule #3: Be adaptable, flexible, and endlessly accommodating. If he cancels, smile and say, "Of course, another time." If he pulls away, don't ask why — just pull away too, but subtly, so he doesn't think you're playing games. If he ghosts, consider taking up transcendental meditation instead of sending that text.
Rule #4: Be cool. So cool. Chill, unbothered, a shimmering mirage of nonchalance. Drink beer, but not too much. Eat burgers, but stay a size two. Never get jealous, never get emotional, never get angry. And for heaven's sake, don't cry. Tears make you weak, which is worse than, God forbid, alone.
Rule #5: You know, just be easy. But…not too easy.
Did you laugh? Good. Did you cringe? Even better. Because we both know that this so-called guide is a joke, yet it's also the expectation that lingers in every relationship script women have been handed since birth. A woman who asks for nothing is desirable. A woman who asks for anything is difficult.
Let's be honest. You know this story. You've lived this story. Somewhere, at some point, someone has called you difficult. Maybe it was a stranger at a party who found your humor a little too sharp, or the guy who, after offering to buy you a drink, muttered "bitch" under his breath when you refused.
But most likely, it was someone who loved you — someone who, at least for a moment, wished you were easier.
This one is for the complex women — the ones who demand, the ones who leave, and the ones who stay — but insist on being met at eye level. This is about how, across history, being "difficult" in love has been as much a political act as it has been a personal one.
Difficult, Defined
The definition of "difficult" depends on who you ask. Historically, it's been a catch-all for women who fail to provide men with comfort, compliance, or unquestioning adoration.
Hillary Clinton? Difficult. Too ambitious, too cold, too unwilling to bake cookies for America. Anne Boleyn? Difficult. Refused to be a mistress and demanded a crown. Frida Kahlo? Difficult. Loved too much and too hard, but never gently. Jane Eyre, fictional but forever relevant, rejected a literal mansion and a dark, brooding husband because he had a wife locked in the attic. Difficult women make inconvenient choices.
Being "difficult," at its core, unsettles the balance of power in love and relationships. It means refusing to trade authenticity for palatability and understanding that love, as it's been traditionally structured, often requires women to diminish themselves in service of someone else's ease.
The Difficult Woman Spectrum
Not all difficult women are the same. The label itself is broad and imprecise, lumping together any woman who does not fit neatly defined expectations. But if we look closer, we can see a spectrum — a vibrant array of women who are intricate in their own unique ways. Each type challenges the norm differently, proving that difficulty is not a flaw but a form of resistance.
Some types might include:
The Emotional Intellectual
- She cannot have small talk; even pillow talk will inevitably lead to a discussion about the meaning of life, death, and capitalism's failures.
- She is both introspective and expressive — openly emotional yet fiercely independent.
- She will not accept a love that does not engage both her heart and her mind.
The Rule Breaker
- She rejects monogamy, traditional gender roles, or the idea that love is a priority at all.
- She knows a fulfilling life does not necessarily require a partner, marriage, or children.
- She does not measure success by whether she is loved by others but by whether she lives a life she truly wants.
The Unapologetic Dreamer
- She is ambitious and driven, and she refuses to dim her light to make someone else feel comfortable.
- She has goals and visions that extend beyond romance, and she will not tolerate partners who see her aspirations as secondary.
- She has no interest in shrinking to fit into a man's life — her life is already full, and love must complement it, not consume it.
The 'definitions' could continue forever because difficult women do not come with a pre-approved script or dilute themselves to fit into someone else's comfort zone. That is also, ultimately, their crime.
Each of these women, in their own way, challenges the notion that love should be a woman's primary goal and that relationships should be endured rather than enjoyed. Each of these women is often accused of being "too much."
But what does that mean, exactly? It often translates to "more than what is convenient for someone else." They are problematic because they want more — from their partners, society, and themselves.
And that is precisely why they are necessary.
The Origins of the "Difficult Woman" Trope
To understand why assertive women in love are often labeled "difficult," we have to look backward. Historically, women who refused to conform were cast as threats to the social order. The mechanisms used to contain them varied, but the goal was always the same: compliance.
Historical Perspective: The Containment of Unruly Women
There has never been a time when women who defied societal norms weren't punished for it. In Ancient Greece, outspoken women were written off as hysterics; Aristotle himself argued that women were naturally subservient and that their highest virtue was obedience.
The medieval era saw women who refused marriage or motherhood funneled into convents, their independent spirit redirected toward religious servitude. Those who refused all constraints were labeled witches — hunted, burned, and drowned.
The Victorian era brought about the ideal of the "angel in the house," a woman whose sole purpose was to provide unwavering devotion to her husband and children. The ones who did not fit — too opinionated, too passionate, too sexually liberated — were institutionalized, diagnosed with "hysteria," and subjected to medical interventions designed to strip them of their agency.
Even in more modern times, the language of control has persisted. The suffragettes were called mad. The feminists of the 1960s and '70s were ridiculed as man-haters, their refusal to accept traditional love dynamics framed as a personal defect rather than a political statement.
I know this firsthand. Living with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) means I have spent my life hearing the word "crazy" thrown at me, not as a clinical term but as a weapon. When I set boundaries, I am unstable. When I express hurt, I am overreacting. When I expect reciprocity, I am demanding. There is a particular cruelty in the way the world views BPD women — as erratic, unlovable, too much of everything. The internet is rife with content demonizing us, treating us not as individuals but as walking red flags, a warning to men that we are to be avoided at all costs.
Contemporary Media Perspectives
This vilification is deeply tied to the manic pixie dream girl fetishization — the idea that a woman can be quirky, unpredictable, and emotionally intense, but only in a way that serves a man's self-discovery. The moment she steps outside of the fantasy — when her pain is not poetic but honest — she is discarded, labeled toxic, unstable, and unfit for love.
There is an inherent contradiction in this. The very qualities that make a woman intoxicating in the early stages of romance — her passion, her vulnerability, her depth — are the ones used to condemn her when she asks for more than mere admiration. The world loves an intense woman, but only when she is entertaining, not when she is demanding to be understood.
This is how the cycle persists. Women with BPD are either fetishized or feared, desired or destroyed. We are either the exhilarating love interest or the cautionary tale. And for those of us who refuse to play either role or to be minimized into someone else's narrative, the punishment is swift: exile, loneliness, the certainty that we will be forever too much for those who prefer their love uncomplicated.
But here's the truth — asserting our needs is not madness. Expecting respect is not instability. Refusing to be a manic pixie dream girl, to be a muse for someone else's journey, does not make us difficult. It makes us whole. And if the world finds that too much to bear, then it is the world — not us — that needs to change.
The High Cost of Being Small
However, for centuries, women could not afford to become difficult, having been conditioned to make themselves smaller in love. Not just physically — though the shrinking of the female body through dieting and corsetry is an obvious metaphor — but emotionally and intellectually, too.
Furthermore, the freedom to be difficult has always been tied to financial independence. Women who rely on men for economic security have fewer options to set boundaries and fewer options to leave. Historically, a woman's survival depended on her ability to be agreeable: chosen, then kept.
Nowadays, women's ability to walk away is powerful. It transforms love from transactional to freely chosen. It allows women to set standards rather than accept whatever is handed to them. And that, in itself, is a radical act.
However, a woman in love is still expected to accommodate, be patient, soothe, and bend herself into whatever shape best suits her partner's needs. A woman who asks for more — who insists on being seen and heard — is told she is asking for too much.
The Expectation to Accommodate
From childhood, women are taught to be pleasant. The "good girl" is rewarded; the loud, insistent, unapologetic girl is corrected. This pattern follows women into adulthood, where being liked often means being accommodating.
Women learn this quickly. This expectation is reinforced in every corner of society, from fairy tales to workplace dynamics. The woman who is too assertive is disciplined. The woman who demands equality in her romantic life is often alone.
The Fear of Being Alone
Women who refuse to shrink are often met with the same warning: "You'll end up alone." This is not a neutral statement; it is a threat. It tells women that the cost of being whole is isolation and abandonment.
And for centuries, this warning was compelling. Women who were economically dependent on men could not afford to be difficult, to demand equality or autonomy. Their survival depended on being chosen; to be chosen, they had to be agreeable. They had to make themselves easy to love.
Difficult Women Are Rewriting Love
Historically, marriage was a contract where women traded autonomy for security. Love was secondary; submission was primary. The expectation was clear: do not make demands. In medieval England, the "scold's bridle" — a literal metal muzzle designed to silence women who spoke out — was used on wives deemed too argumentative.
While some might still try — and succeed — to use metaphorical muzzles to silence women nowadays, something is changing. Women who insist on taking up space and choosing themselves are disrupting the balance of power relationships have long been built on. They are not difficult because they are unreasonable; they are difficult because they refuse to be convenient. And that refusal is changing everything.
Today, women have options. They have careers, financial independence, and the ability to build lives that are full and meaningful without romantic validation. For the first time, the fear of being alone is losing its grip. More and more women are choosing themselves over unsatisfying relationships. They are deciding that loneliness is preferable to erasure.
When rewritten by difficult women, love is not an act of rebellion; it is an act of quiet revolution. It is an insistence that passion should be a shared force rather than an expectation of sacrifice and that by realizing that, you don't fall out of love with them; you fall back in love with yourself.
That is what rewriting love looks like.
Embracing the Label
To every woman who has been called too much, too loud, too opinionated — you are not difficult; you are deliberate. You are not impossible; you are uncompromising in your belief that love should never require you to be less than who you are.
Being a complex woman is an act of love — both for yourself and for the future of equitable relationships. It is an insistence that love should not be something you survive but something that nourishes you. It is the radical act of refusing to disappear, demanding respect, and choosing yourself over a love that asks you to shrink.
Love, real love, is expansive. It should never feel like suffocation. It should be a force that amplifies rather than diminishes, builds rather than depletes. And difficult women, by refusing to accept anything less, are shaping the future of romance itself.
So take up space, be demanding, expect more, ask for what you need, and walk away when you are not valued. Redefine romance not as something that requires sacrifice but as something that elevates.
Because love, the kind that matters, was never meant to belong only to the easy. It belongs to those who dare to demand better. And difficult women, in all their unshaken, unrelenting, unapologetic power, are showing the world what true love should look like.
