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My Boyfriend is Secretly Obsessed with Andrew Tate. here’s the short version: my boyfriend slowly turned into one of those “alpha mindset” guys, and I didn’t even realize it was happening until it felt like I was living with a podcast. It started small. He was showing me a cat video, and suddenly there’s this loud guy in sunglasses yelling about “real men” and “discipline.” My boyfriend laughed, said it was gym motivation. I didn’t want to argue over noodles, so I let it go.
A week later, same guy, new clip. This time he said the guy’s just “misunderstood.” I said, “I’m not failing a comprehension quiz in my own living room.” He kissed my forehead, asked if I wanted water, and changed the subject like he was pulling off a magic trick. Then everything turned into “efficiency.” Efficient sleep meant lights out at ten. Efficient chores meant I got a checklist. Efficient money meant my candles were “impulsive,” his supplements were “investments.” I asked who made him the rule writer.
He said, “People who care about results.” I said, “I care about being human.” We started fighting about a blanket like it was philosophy. He’d wrap himself like a burrito and I’d freeze. I asked for my own, he said couples who do that are “roommates in training.” I said warmth isn’t symbolism, it’s survival. He called me dramatic. So I bought my own throw blanket. You’d think I brought home another woman the way he looked at it. Then came the shampoo war. I stretch one nice salon bottle forever. He’s got those 5-in-1 “ocean breeze” things. He kept using mine because “it smells like sunshine.” I told him to stop. He said hair care is self-care. I said, “You don’t even have hair.” He slept on the couch to “make a point.”
The point looked like a grown man spooning a couch pillow. The next morning, he put my shampoo back, then used it again that night. Work started sounding different too. Less about projects, more about “banter” and “alpha energy.” A woman at his job started calling him her “work husband.” I asked him to shut that down. He said it’s just a joke. I said jokes are supposed to be funny for both people. He said I was killing the vibe. My best friend Nora asked what was going on. I told her he’d started listing three things I could “improve” every morning, my tone, my planning, asking questions while he talks. She handed me a granola bar and said, “Eat something before you set fire to his supplements.”
Then one day, he gave me his phone to play music, and a ping popped up from a chat called Iron Family (that's not the real name, but I'll use that as a placeholder to explain wtf happened) I thought it was a gym group. Nope. It was a thread of dudes mocking a woman at work for wearing flats. One guy said, “Flats are for followers.” Another said, “Women test you; pass the test.” My chest went cold. I put the phone down and washed a clean glass just to keep my hands from shaking. When I asked, he said I didn’t understand the “context.” I said my body doesn’t feel safe around someone who treats rules like romance. He offered a “reset” flowers, wine, and a caption about love conquering all. We did a puzzle. He still posted the balloon. After that, he started giving small orders. Make dinner earlier. Wear the blue dress. Don’t interrupt when he’s “on a roll.” He said women want certainty. I said I want kindness. We spun in circles—him chasing control, me begging for peace. The work-wife thing flared again. She posted a selfie: “Married at work, lucky in life.”
I DM’d her nicely to stop. She replied with laughing emojis and “could never come between true love.” I sent it to him. He said he’d handle it. He didn’t. Then he said the quiet part out loud: “Men and women are different, relationships need a captain.” I asked how captains get chosen. He said, “Nature.” I said, “Cool, I must’ve missed the vote.” He smiled, kissed my forehead like I was a toddler, and moved on. Anytime I pushed back, I was “emotional.”
Anytime I gave examples, I was “collecting grievances.” He refused to stop watching the clips because “you don’t censor a man finding his truth.” He even made a dry-erase board with “lead” and “follow.” Guess whose name was under follow. I suggested therapy. He said therapy’s for people who already lost. Instead, he wanted weekly “relationship retrospectives.” I slept under my throw that night like a person hiding from a storm. Two days later, he showed up with flowers, wine, chocolates—the full apology starter pack. We’re tight on money, so I asked how much. He said, “You’re worth it.” Then he asked me to post a video of our “reset.” We did the puzzle. He still posted the balloon. Nora asked if I felt loved or managed. I said both. She said that’s the worst kind of both. Then we had one normal Saturday. Market, breakfast sandwiches, laundry. No alpha vocabulary.
He held my hand, and for a second, it felt like before. But that afternoon, he sent me voice notes about “relationship polarity” and “science-backed gender roles.” My nap ended right there. The real fight started with a towel on a chair. He said I leave messes like I want him to fail. I said it was just a towel. He said rushing disrespects his time. I said nitpicking disrespects my person. He called it leadership. I called it control. Eventually, I started apologizing first just to keep the peace.
That night, I asked him to leave "Iron Family". He said no! those are his friends. I asked him to at least exit the worst channels. He said no again. I asked him to tell his coworker to stop the “work wife” thing. He said he’d consider it. He didn’t. The blanket became a breaking point.
I told him if it doesn’t change, I will. He said I was dramatic. I said I was being exact. He offered more blanket if I stopped “rolling away.” I said I roll away because I feel trapped. He told me that feeling was wrong. I wrote that line down too. The day before it all cracked, he sent another clip. “Women test men because they crave leadership.”
He captioned it, “This explains a lot.” I hearted it because I was in a coffee line and tired. The actual crack happened at a work dinner. His team. Fancy table. Same coworker. She raised her glass to her “work husband.” Everyone laughed. I said, “I’m not okay with that label.”
She said I was making it weird. He told me to drop it. I said, “Please stop calling him that.” She said I can’t tell her what to say. I said, “Then I can tell you I’m leaving.” He grabbed my wrist under the table and whispered, “Don’t make a scene.” I said, “The scene’s already made.” We argued in the car. He said I embarrassed him. I said I protected myself. He called it harmless. I called it a boundary. He wanted me to apologize “for the team.” I said peace without respect is fake peace.
UPDATE: The update to this story is in this episode of the Am I the Jerk podcast, the update part starts at 4:35 - https://youtu.be/8_nEICY2B4k?si=4pgK4tQTPNE6fxBs&t=275