I blame my three failed relationships on ‘miserable man syndrome’

Loading the dishwasher “wrong”. Forgetting to put the bins out. Taking too long with the cashier at the shop. These are among the 1,000 tiny cuts that cause the death of relationships.

It’s not that the actions in themselves are sackable offences. Just that, over time, with increased levels of irritation and anger they bring, there is no part of the relationship that isn’t at least scratched by them.

In relationships with three men, over 25 years, I’ve watched resigned sighs become swear words, daily eye rolls and door slams. Not to mention the stonewalling and silent treatment that has, on occasion, lasted almost a week.

“Ah, but the common denominator here is you,” I hear you cry. And don’t think I haven’t looked at my own behaviour. I have read, researched and ruminated my way through this conundrum for nigh on all that quarter of a century.

I have my faults, like anyone. I can be extremely ditzy, for one. I have left cups of tea in the airing cupboard, car keys in the fridge, and yes, I’m the one who forgets the bins. I’m not very good at DIY. I don’t mow the lawn. I also load the dishwasher like a three-year-old. I’m told I don’t like being wrong, and that I always play devil’s advocate “just for laughs” (which is apparently, insanely annoying). But does this warrant name-calling, sneering and days of silence?

In the first of the three relationships, we were in our 20s, and I thought things had simply changed after the birth of our son. My partner had become glass-half-empty most days. A grey cloud permeated throughout the house. He spent a lot of time on his own, complained when he was with me, and didn’t really want to go out much anymore. So much so that he decided not to come to my two best friends’ weddings, where I was a bridesmaid. So I went alone, wondering what had changed from the guy I’d met a few years before, who would dance ridiculously in the nightclub and run me bubble baths.

I suspected it was just “a personality thing”. We tried to make it work, but there was a sadness and void that just couldn’t be filled. We split after five years together, and I met someone new a few months later. He seemed calmer, more optimistic about life. It was a healthy, loving relationship and life rolled on nicely for a couple of years.

But, slowly, daily criticisms crept in. There were serial frustrations, and after quite a few years together, multiple mornings of seeing the back of his head as he slammed the front door. One year, I put the wrong bin out at Christmas. You’d have thought from his reaction that I’d actually cancelled Christmas. Except it wasn’t that funny. After 15 years with each other, we called it a day. It was desperately sad, as there was lots about our relationship that was brilliant. And we always had loads to talk about and similar interests, but the moods and irritations just got too much. And I’m not talking run-of-the-mill disagreements. These saw me spending many nights alone in bed because he’d stormed off to another room.

Third time lucky, though. Not quite.

I thought I’d been observant and hyper-vigilant of red flags this time. His own parents told me he was the most “chilled out bloke” they’d ever known. It was only after a year of living together that I realised he was far from chilled out. I wondered whether his parents even knew him at all.

He was fun to be with, funny in fact. But chilled out? Not that.

Whether I’d hung his coat up the wrong way, put the big plates at the front of the dishwasher, instead of the back, or not put the dog’s paws on her bed properly… chilled out he was not. The passive aggressive behaviour corroded us until we were so brittle, the slightest pressure would snap us. And it did. So last December, just a few days before, I told him that, sadly, we couldn’t spend Christmas together. This forced us into a separation of a couple of months which he recently referred to as a “firebreak”. We’re now talking about how things weren’t just healthy dissatisfaction or slight mood fluctuations. Definitely something deeper, and very difficult for everyone involved. We still don’t know what the future holds, but at least we are talking and trying to get a healthy resolution.

I’d worried for a while that it was maybe loneliness, anxiety or even depression. And over the past few years, more and more of my friends had said similar things about their partners, and had begun to utter the phrase “miserable man syndrome”.

I’m not a fan of that name at all. But it does seem to be the umbrella term for something real that we all see happening. Many of those friends, mostly in their 40s and 50s, have been dealing with their partners’ mood swings, frustrations, and the sense that they are now living with a “man on the edge”.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence. But is it a real syndrome?

Behind the behaviours

“It’s not a recognised clinical diagnosis, but the term describes a pattern of irritability, negativity and emotional withdrawal in men, often seen in middle age,” say Dr Ritz Birah, a consultant counselling psychologist, and Dr Vicki Uwannah, a pyschologist at Bupa. They are co-hosts of The Therapy Floor podcast.

“Men can sometimes find it difficult to express their emotions because of societal conditioning. An ‘acceptable’ emotion is anger or irritation. But anger is often termed a secondary emotion, so what is often underneath is sadness or anxiety. What we interpret as irritation or grumpiness could be an underlying sense of sadness; perhaps grief over the life transition or anxiety over what life may look like. Work stress and family issues can be difficult to deal with. And when we don’t know how to express them, it can come out in unhelpful ways.”

Now, I’m not saying this is something that just happens in men. I have it on good authority that many women display similar behaviours. But this is about my experiences, and my extensive empirical study in this field (chatting with my friends).

Dr Birah and Dr Uwannah point out that it isn’t just about mood swings; it’s often about a man’s changing relationship with his own life.

“If he can adjust his expectations and find renewed purpose, he can move through midlife with growth instead of resentment.

“We refer to the ‘Seasons of a man’s life’ theory, which outlines male psychological development in stages, highlighting key transitions. In early adulthood, 17 to 40, men build their dream – career, relationships, identity – until midlife, 40 to 45, when they often question everything, leading to dissatisfaction, mood swings, or drastic changes. How they navigate this determines whether they find renewed purpose or stay stuck in chronic negativity.”

This hits home. My last relationship was indeed with a man in his midlife phase, where he was enduring several challenges, such as living far away from his parents, and an illness, both of which added to his stress.

We tried many times to talk about it and find a way through, but he didn’t really feel comfortable to open up about his feelings. Often he’d get frustrated and would throw criticisms at me, rather than us trying to get resolution to the issues.

Why are some men hyper-critical?

Being overly critical is typical of someone with miserable man syndrome, in my experience. According to Dr Birah and Dr Uwannah, there are psychological reasons behind it, from frustration to low self-esteem, or past conditioning. Equally, cognitive biases might be playing a part – some men are wired to scan for problems (such as perfectionism and learnt helplessness).

“There’s also the male menopause,” they say. “Testosterone decline can play a role, but social and psychological factors, such as work stress, life dissatisfaction, relationship struggle, often have a bigger impact. It’s rarely just a hormonal issue.”

I explain to Dr Birah and Dr Uwannah that in two of my relationships, I’ve experienced a repeated pattern. It was a monthly cycle of tension, conflict, reconciliation and calm. We’d get on fine, then there’d be little niggles and a feeling that something was off. I’d ask if everything was OK and was often given a curt “fine”. This would build until there would be an outburst, which could be about small things or big things. Dog hairs on the carpet, or my family arriving for Christmas celebrations. I don’t think it was ever about the “thing”. More a build-up of lots of things, general anxiety and an inability to express or communicate.

This may signal several things, the experts say: “It could be his internal crisis; he’s questioning his life choices but externalising blame. Or unresolved expectations where he had a vision of life that isn’t matching reality.”

There’s also emotional suppression, which I think happened in the last two of my relationships. Rather than process feelings, the miserable man lashes out.

Not all the issues come down to him, though. “There are attachment dynamics,” the duo say. “Some couples cycle through push-pull patterns. Or it could be unmet needs, where one or both partners feeling unheard or unseen.”

I’ve found that in all of my relationships, the problem with criticism is that it can breed criticism, so it’s easy to then go back and forth between a couple once it’s started. I am guilty of throwing around a snarky comment if I feel neglected. (Especially if my partner then spends a lot of time on his phone.) Dr Gurpreet Kaur, a chartered clinical psychologist, agrees this isn’t the right tack.

“Partners would benefit from approaching men with non-judgmental curiosity rather than criticism, and supporting them in finding outlets and rebuilding their emotional connection through shared activities like exercise and hobbies,” says Dr Kaur.

“Navigating conversations about the impact on you as a partner is important but needs to be done without blame, to avoid a breakdown in communication. It might be useful to refer to famous role models who have spoken openly about emotions, such as Tyson Fury, to help dispel the belief that men can’t talk.”

In my last relationship, we found hiking and walking the dog got us out of the house into the fresh air, and this change of scenery and exercise did us good. Being in nature can feel grounding. For us, it often took the heat out of a discussion.

What can men do to help themselves?

Ultimately, Dr Kaur says that men need to own their struggles rather than dismiss or blame others for their experiences.

“The key is to ask themselves what’s really upsetting them, what’s making them zone out, or feel numb or upset. Even starting with a simple truth of, ‘I don’t know why I feel this way, but I want to understand’, fosters a shift from the other causing the problem to the man owning that it is his experience that is the issue.

“It’s not about having the perfect understanding or the perfect words but about a willingness to reflect on the struggle. Finding the right time to talk to others and understanding that some internal exploration needs to happen is more important than finding a quick cure through temporary distraction. Overall, there needs to be ownership of the issue, even if the solution isn’t clear to begin with,” says Dr Kaur.

Six tips to manage miserable man syndrome

1. Look at where he is in life

Is he in a life transition? Naming it can help. I’ve found that in all three of my relationships they were having some bigger issues. If they’ll talk openly and honestly, it will make things a lot easier.

2. Don’t absorb the negativity

His dissatisfaction isn’t yours to fix. Taking a deep breath and walking away became my friend. But it doesn’t solve things, only calms them in the moment.

3. Encourage self-reflection

“What’s really bothering you?” Personally, I’ve found this nut takes some cracking. Going off to chat on neutral ground like the pub can help. (But don’t have more than two drinks.)

4. Help him redefine purpose

“What’s the next meaningful step?” In a couple of my cases, this has meant counselling. Either joint, or solo, but for you both in some way, if you’re fully committed.

5. Set boundaries on criticism

I suggest: “I want to support you, but I won’t be your emotional punching bag.”

6. Prioritise your wellbeing

Long walks and thrashing it out with a swim also became useful. Also noticing specific times where moods were worse. In all three relationships, this was the morning.