Men Have Called Me a “High Maintenance Latina”—I’m Finally Owning It

There’s a scene in When Harry Met Sally that seems like throwaway banter but actually reveals a broader framework for judging women. Harry (Billy Crystal) tells Sally (Meg Ryan) that Ingrid Bergman’s character in Casablanca is “low maintenance.” He claims, “There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.” When Sally asks which she is, Harry says she’s “the worst kind,” describing her restaurant-order preferences. “You’re high maintenance, but you think you’re low maintenance.”

On the surface, the scene reads as a simple observation. But for many girls who grew up in the late ’80s and ’90s, it likely shaped how they saw themselves for years to come. It certainly impacted me.

The term “high maintenance” is defined as requiring a large amount of care or maintenance, but in When Harry Met Sally, Harry uses it to label women based on their preferences. This distinction, presented as objective, actually reveals a broader judgment of women with standards.

I remember the first time a guy called me “high maintenance.” I was 19 and had a guy friend who was in a relationship with a woman he referred to as “low maintenance,” who wasn’t exactly someone he seemed deeply fulfilled by. He would often openly admit how attracted he was to me, how much he appreciated the effort I put into my appearance and personal style, and how much he respected my dating standards. But he’d also say things like how he’d never date me because I was a “high-maintenance Latina” who would likely require more time, effort, attention, and courting than his current girlfriend—or even previous girlfriends—expected of him.

Looking back, it’s surprising that I eventually became his girlfriend—and spent nearly a decade in an unsatisfying relationship.

I was young, inexperienced, and a virgin. Like Sally, I wanted to be seen as low-maintenance despite my specific preferences. I wanted love and acceptance, so I toned down my needs and prioritized his. When men call women “high maintenance,” it’s not about beauty upkeep; often, it means you have standards and expectations they don’t want to meet.

Despite often wearing little or no makeup—even now—I always prioritize vanity. When we met, I had silky, sleek blowouts from a Dominican salon, a year-round fresh pedicure, and well-groomed nails—even before gel extensions. I never cared for designer bags or shoes, but I’ve always taken pride in my style.

My ex said these were the things that initially attracted him to me, but he’d joke about how he wasn’t ready to give anyone “wifey treatment,” especially after I shared how much my dad would spoil my mom. Once we became boyfriend and girlfriend, I quickly started noticing the red flags. Whenever I expressed my standards for how I wanted to be treated or opened up about something that bothered or hurt me, I was instantly labeled “too sensitive.” And whenever one of his friends or brothers was dating what men often refer to as a “cool girl”—someone who asks for nothing, constantly gives, adapts to everything, and drops everything to meet her partner’s needs—he’d make passive-aggressive comments about how he wished I were more like that.

I learned that “high maintenance” is shorthand for labeling women as “too much,” “demanding,” “sensitive,” or “needy.” Men often use “low maintenance” or “cool girl” to reward women willing to set aside their needs and standards, shaping expectations in relationships.

My grooming habits stayed the same, but I became a “low-maintenance” girlfriend, losing more of myself each year out of fear of not being loved or chosen. I stopped sharing my needs, afraid of how they would be received. The more I self-edited and prioritized him, the more he rewarded me for being “the perfect girlfriend.”

I still got cheated on, by the way.

A year into our engagement—after nearly 10 years together—I left the relationship. This was a turning point. Unable to imagine a future where I could truly be myself, I walked away. Shortly after, I found myself in a rebound relationship with another insecure man who had just come out of a messy divorce and found me “too much” to commit to.

In my early 30s, I kept meeting men who called me “high maintenance” or “too much,” and their words stung. Life showed me that few men in my world were equipped to meet a woman with standards, preferences, and requirements. Most just wanted to breadcrumb, even those I dated or who asked me to be their girlfriend.

I realized these men rarely referred to actual maintenance. Instead, they resisted women whose needs and standards required personal growth or adaptation. The label is used to avoid the discomfort of change or accountability in a relationship.

They wanted to stay comfortable. The less I required, the more they could remain stagnant. A “low-maintenance” partner doesn’t encourage growth, disrupt habits, or require self-reflection.

As Latinas, we’re often told we’re “too loud,” “too emotional,” “too sensitive,” “too dramatic,” “too sexy,” or “too fiery.” So when we express needs, preferences, standards, or boundaries, it feels amplified.

“When the label [high maintenance] is used, it can echo a broader social narrative that historically colored how WOC express needs, emotions, and boundaries,” says my therapist Eileen Kovach, who is half Dominican. “Some may already have an internal tension between wanting to be seen and respected and wanting to avoid confirming those stereotypes—something they’ve been trying not to be perceived as. On one side, there are legitimate needs for care and consistency. On the other hand, there’s a learned awareness that expressing those needs may lead to being labeled or dismissed.”

The “high maintenance” or “too much” label always hit me hard because it feels like it confirms an existing bias that doesn’t seem to go away. The very men who express desire or attraction for me, who love that I’m passionate, outspoken, independent, and vibrant, are often the same ones who project the “too much” narrative onto me. It’s almost as if the second my fire stops centering their needs and instead prioritizes my own, I suddenly become “too much.” The second I express my emotions, I’m punished and misread as aggressive or overreactive.

“Instead of naming ‘I feel overwhelmed’ or ‘I can’t show up in that way,’ it gets externalized into ‘you’re too much,’” Kovach explains. “Socialization plays a role, too. Women are encouraged to express needs, men are less experienced in managing emotional intensity, shaping perception of these needs.”

When it came to my appearance, there was always this contradiction, especially from Latino men. Because I’m Latina, I’m expected to have polished hair, a small waist, a flat stomach, and a big butt. If that standard isn’t maintained, you’re judged. But if you are transparent about the time, money, and effort it takes to maintain it, you’re also labeled “high maintenance.” So many people admire Jennifer Lopez’s beauty and youthful looks at 55, and yet she is one of the most criticized women in Hollywood, often judged precisely for her vanity and standards.

I’m learning that when men label women “high maintenance,” whether intentional or not, they reinforce silence around our needs. As Latinas, many of us are told to downplay needs, overaccommodate, overgive, and soften boundaries—even at our own risk. Now, I refuse to have my standards weaponized against me.

Rather than allowing the label “high maintenance” to diminish my self-worth, I now fully embrace my needs and standards. I am unapologetic and clear about what I expect and require in a relationship, knowing that honoring myself is the greatest act of love. If that means I am “high maintenance,” then I wear the label proudly, recognizing it as a sign that I refuse to settle for less. This is my commitment—not to dim my light, but to let it shine, for myself and for others who may need permission to do the same.