The low-maintenance woman, the ideal woman, has no appetite. This is not to say that she refuses food, sex, romance, emotional effort; to refuse is petulant, which is ironically more demanding. The woman without appetite politely finishes what's on her plate, and declines seconds. She is satisfied and satisfiable.
A man's appetite can be hearty, but a woman with an appetite is always voracious: her hunger always overreaches, because it is not supposed to exist. If she wants food, she is a glutton. If she wants sex, she is a slut. If she wants emotional caretaking, she is a high-maintenance bitch — or, worse, an "attention whore": an amalgam of sex-hunger and care-hunger, greedy not only to be fucked and paid but, most unforgivably of all, to be noticed.
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As a child, on an endless restrictive regimen that started when I was four, I was told, "If you get used to eating less, you'll stop being so hungry." The secret to satiation, to satisfaction, was not to meet or even acknowledge your needs but to curtail them. We learn the same lesson about our emotional hunger: Want less, and you will always have enough.