Is 'man-keeping' draining your relationships?

He says that you are the only person he can talk to and that he feels safe with you. He says that no one has ever listened to him the way you do. At first, you smile and take it as a compliment. You think, “Finally, someone who is emotionally open.”

But then the floodgates open: childhood trauma, work pressure and unprocessed grief. His anxiety, his ex, his mother, his self-hatred and his avoidance of therapy. You sit there, nodding, offering reassurance and advice. You tell him he needs help, but he just laughs. “I don’t need therapy. I have you.”

That’s when you realise that this isn’t a relationship; it’s emotional labour disguised as romance.

And you’re not alone.

More Kenyan women are choosing to stop dating, not because they hate men or fear commitment, but because they are exhausted by a particular dynamic that psychologists have finally given a name: man-keeping.

Coined by Dr Angelica Puzio Ferrara, a developmental psychologist at Stanford’s Clayman Institute, the term refers to the emotional support women provide in romantic relationships. This includes listening, calming, coaching, interpreting emotions, managing moods and encouraging growth. All of this is done without pay, credentials or reciprocity.

It’s the hidden job that many women do without ever realising they’ve been hired. Dr Ferrara breaks this down into three roles that women often play in these dynamics: Emotional scaffolding, helping men to understand and express their feelings. Social facilitation - encouraging and maintaining men’s friendships and emotional connections. Relational coaching - guiding men through communication, conflict resolution and intimacy.

“These are all things only a therapist is trained to do,” Ferrara explains. “But in heterosexual relationships, it’s often expected, not asked, of women.”

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Recent studies from Pew Research show that only 38 per cent of single women in the U.S. are actively dating, compared to 61 per cent of single men. That gap is not just a Western phenomenon. In Kenya, too, many women are opting out of the dating scene, citing emotional burnout.

“Men are not socialised to seek emotional support from friends,” says Dr Nassim Nkatha, a Nairobi-based psychologist and relationships therapist.

“They are often discouraged from vulnerability. When they do enter relationships, they place the entire burden of emotional connection on their partner. That’s a heavyweight for anyone to carry.”

According to Dr Nkatha, this pattern is especially visible in urban settings where the pressure of masculinity, to be strong, silent and in control, means men have few spaces to express themselves. “So they trauma-dump onto their women,” she says, “and call it love.”

It may start subtly. You’re dating a guy who’s fun, kind, maybe even thoughtful. Then slowly, you realise that every time he’s down, he comes to you for regulation. You start picking your words carefully to manage his moods. You soften your tone to avoid setting him off. You stop bringing up your own stress because he’s “already dealing with a lot.” You become his therapist, his mother, his mirror, everything but his equal.

“Dating can feel like emotional babysitting,” says Rita, 29, who recently ended a two-year relationship.

“He wanted me to affirm him, to motivate him, to teach him how to talk about feelings. I was constantly reassuring him he was good enough. But when I cried once, he went cold. I realised then that I was giving therapy and getting nothing.”

Rita hasn’t dated since.

There’s a growing trend among women, online and offline, called boysober. It’s exactly what it sounds like: choosing to abstain from romantic relationships with men as a form of rest, clarity, and healing.

“It’s not hate, it’s fatigue,” says Muthoni, 35, who’s been ‘boy sober’ for a year. “We are tired of being rehab centres for emotionally unavailable men.”

Muthoni says she used to internalise failed relationships as personal shortcomings. “I used to think, maybe I wasn’t patient enough or nurturing enough. Now I realise, I wasn’t supposed to be a healer, I was supposed to be a partner.”

This shift reflects a broader generational refusal to carry emotional burdens that were never theirs to begin with.

In African homes, emotional responsibility is often gendered from childhood. Girls are taught to say “sorry” first. To mediate sibling fights, to adjust to mood swings and to notice when someone is withdrawn. Girls grow up as tiny emotional managers.

Boys, on the other hand, are allowed detachment; they’re told not to cry. Boys are given space to be angry but not sad, aggressive and not vulnerable. Then those same boys grow into men who don’t know how to feel, except when they’re in a relationship. And guess who’s expected to help them “open up”? It’s not the boys who played FIFA with them for a decade. It’s their women.

“I want a partner, not a project,” says Winnie, 32, a school administrator in Nakuru. “Every guy I’ve dated in the last five years was going through something, and not doing anything about it. I was supposed to be understanding, patient and forgiving. I kept giving grace, but I was bleeding out emotionally.” She pauses, then adds: “I’ve started therapy. For me. Not for them.”

Winnie is part of a growing number of women investing in themselves, not because they want to be ‘ready for a man’, but because they want to live fully, with or without one.

“I no longer feel guilty about walking away from emotionally immature men. That’s not a character flaw. That’s wisdom.”

So what’s the solution?

Dr Nassim Nkatha says it starts with men doing the emotional work themselves.

“Therapy needs to be normalised. Male friendships need to move beyond banter and football. Boys need to learn that emotional literacy isn’t a weakness, it’s a life skill,” she says. “The burden cannot keep falling on women to fix, guide, and teach.”

Ferrara agrees: “Man-keeping is not just harmful to women. It also keeps men emotionally underdeveloped. If they never learn to carry themselves, they’ll never be capable of true partnership. This isn’t about blaming men, it’s about asking them to show up whole, not half.”