Nevertheless, he persisted.
Much ado is being made about the supposedly uncharted “grey area” between harmless flirting and nefarious and intentional sexual harassment. As though it were all so clear before Harvey Weinstein?
This apparently unnavigable territory is basically the spontaneous consternation of well-meaning dudes who woke up in October, in the throes of the Weinstein revelation after revelation after revelation and were suddenly like, wait, what? Wagons are circling as though there are such obvious clear lines delineating the good guys from the bad guys. But sometimes good guys do bad things. And sometimes bad guys do good things, like being charming, in order to do bad things. So if you think you’re confused about what’s “ok” and what’s not, imagine how we feel trying to determine who the good guys really are. As a girlfriend’s dad told us in high school, “Sons are easy. You only have to worry about one swinging dick. With a daughter you have to worry about every swinging dick in town.” As though it is a burden borne only by fathers. As though we wouldn’t bear the brunt of it. As if we weren’t already.
Enter the Nice Guy Conundrum.
Fastforward many years and I’ll use online dating as an example.
For me, online dating seemed overtly different from real life in the expectation of interaction. Men would send an initial message that ranged anywhere from a one-word “hey” or “Sup” to a movie quote to what appeared to be a personalized and well thought-out response to actually reading your profile. But rather than just sending you a message, (some send just an emoji), and hoping a stranger would write back, too many seem to expect you to write back. Simply because they wrote to you in the first place. They initiated contact and therefor you *owe* them a response. And if you don’t, you can expect a wide range of reactions – the vulgarity of which seems to depend on which online dating site you’re on. And no matter how polite or horrific those follow-up messages can be, it becomes very clear that the expectation to be written back is almost universal. And if you don’t write them back? You are, at best, a bitch. At worst, you are a lesbian whore whose mother should die of the most painful form of cancer that doctors cannot figure out. Yes. That’s right. Men actually threaten women they don’t know, and their families, with internet voodoo cancer among many, many, many other things.
Men like this seem to assume that there is an unwritten social contract that women enter into simply because we have joined an online dating site. If a man takes the time — literally any time whatsoever, (even if it is just to copy-and-paste a previously written or even plagiarized message and shotgun it to as many women as he is attracted to) — to contact you, the bare minimum civilized thing for a decent woman who was raised right (yes, they will call this into question) to do is to write every single one of them back. Although I’m sure each one would be okay with us only writing *you* back. After all, if you are a decent person with any manners whatsoever you will write a man back to acknowledge, with gratitude, that he contacted you, thank him for any compliments he bestowed upon you and, ideally, reciprocate his feelings and interest. Whether you have a mutual attraction to or interest in him is immaterial to these men who seem to think it is inexcusably rude of a woman to not *at least* offer an explanation as to why you do not think you would be a good match. It is also unwritten but understood that you are to be available to answer follow-up questions he might have should your initial declination not be sufficient. It’s only good manners, right? And surely you don’t want to be rude, right?
The nicest pout I received was insidious in its kindness. And I almost fell for it.
Which brings me to my “grey-area” example of the hour – a man who obviously hadn’t read my profile and went by a handle along the lines of LynxLyre, modified to protect his actual handle.
I had set the maximum age for a man I’d date, the absolute outer limit, at 45 years old. This was clearly listed in the “what I’m looking for” section on my profile.
He was 56.
And he wrote 34-year-old me anyway. And he did not apologize for disregarding my maximum age or explain that after reading all about me he thought we just might have such unbridled chemistry that none of life’s logistics could possibly matter. And, side note, good sir, I’m guessing by that screen name that you are into ren faires and we are therefore not a likely match – even without a two-decade+ age gap.
His first message was a lovely enough, but completely unsolicited poem that he said he wrote. It was perfectly fine. But I didn’t ask for it. And I was not remotely attracted to the picture he, in theory, chose to best represent himself as most flattering. And I saw that he was 11 years older than the absolute oldest I was willing to consider dating. So I never even looked at his profile. On this site you can see who has viewed your profile so I’m quite certain he knew I hadn’t viewed his. He had zero reason to believe I was interested. And when he hurtled a heartfelt and revelatory work of art out into the ether he was wounded that it didn’t land in exactly the way he wanted. That the recipient didn’t cherish the poem so much she had to seek out the poet. It was heavy-laden bait. I did not write him back.
You’re a fucking bitch! My best friend exploded with the unhesitating honesty that saves lifelong friends a lot of time on any number of topics. Just write him back and say his poem was sweet but you’re not interested.
My best friend had never actually told a man no. She never wanted to be rude. My first experience with this left a lasting, and bloody, impression on me. We went dancing and I sat comfortably in a booth while men literally asked her to dance all night long. They actually lined up by our booth. I’d never seen anything quite like it. She was wearing some leather sandals she’d bought years before and after two or three straight hours of dancing her feet were actually bleeding. The soles had finally worn completely through and she had torn up both her feet. So she danced with bloody feet. But she didn’t want to be rude. The female mantra.
So. Mr. Lyre. You are closer to my dad’s age than to mine. So maybe I should point out a few things my dad has taught me over the years. Since he’s a man. Maybe you’d listen to him. You have told me, right out of the gate, that you do not respect my wishes. You do not respect or have disregarded the parameters *I* set for *my* love life. So even if I were inclined to date someone 22 years older than I am, (which I did once! On my terms!) I would not want to date someone who does not respect my autonomy. Someone who is obviously more interested in my appearance than what I have to say. Someone who is more committed to pursuing his desires than to respecting my wishes. And someone who is probably more into my age than into me specifically.
Nevertheless, he persisted.
Hello there, sure would be nice to hear back from you.
His next message was not impolite. But it implied that we were already in an ongoing conversation. That he was ever so gently admonishing my delay and kindly requesting that I get back to it. Since I was not holding up my end of the bargain. “Our” deal.
While everyone choosing to advertise themselves to the online dating world is “on offer”, (to use a British term that sounds less like prostitution to my American ears than ‘for sale’), each seller is entitled to ignore offers from buyers they are not interested in. It might be online but it ain’t Craigslist. And here’s the especially difficult part for a surprising number of men to understand. Not only are you not owed a response, you most certainly are not owed an explanation either. Sure, it would be nice. But no one owes you anything.
Gavin de Becker wrote with alarming clarity about communication differences that can lead to violence in his book called the Gift of Fear. Yes, LynxLyre. Violence. Now I know, #notallmen. I completely agree with that. I have had countless great men in my life. And I called each one of them out by name when I finally posted my #metoo. But the thing is, we have no way of knowing which one of you will snap. And it’s not our responsibility to let you prove it to us if we aren’t interested in the first place.
When a man says no it is the end of the discussion.
But when a woman says no it is the beginning of a negotiation.
DeBecker’s words were like a refrain for me every time a man started negotiating with my inbox. Their repeated and escalating messages made it clear that these were not the type of people who were good at respect, boundaries, communication or compromise – things that make relationships of any kind successful, respectful and symmetrical. If I wasn’t inclined to write you back initially, thank you for confirming for me that I made the right decision in the first place. That my first instinct was correct.
If a woman takes the time to write back a curt but succinct “not interested” or “no thank you” she does not have to tell you why she is not interested. But the problem is that the absence of a reason infuriates men even more and makes their curiosity and self esteem ricochet around in their ego until it feels like rejection that Must. Be. Redeemed. The negotiation begins. Well why not?
Because. She’s. Not. And she already told you no.
I can’t claim to know LynxLyre’s motives or strategies. But I wonder if he was trying to separate himself from the crowd. To stand out amongst the fuckboys as a true gentleman interested in a real relationship.
An excerpt:
But that day he was scared of the way his heart beat different in his chest
She was different, different from the rest and he did not understand
He struggled of course with understanding
…
But like the king that wore no clothes he could not see
He struggled with the weight of his heart
Why was he always laying his soul bare, naked to the world
…
In warm regards, LynxLyre
Look, LynxLyre. I hear your thinly veiled and aching loneliness. And I not only sympathize with your pain and your deep longing for connection, I empathize.
I was also searching and hurting and frustrated and hopeful. But here’s the thing. Your loneliness is not my burden to bear. I am responsible for fighting my own battles. And I did not sign up for an online dating account to console or counsel strangers. That does not make me harsh or unkind. It means you are doing an understandable but misguided thing and you are doing it in the wrong venue. And I have learned the hard way that it is best not to engage at all if I am not interested. If I do not respond to your message it means, no thank you.
After countless messages from men who seem to feel entitled to my time and energy, I repeat: You are not owed responses, explanations, compassion or interactions from a stranger on the internet just because you reached out. And I am not more indebted to you because you sent an entire poem instead of just a “hi” or “hey beautiful”. It was a perfectly heartfelt poem. But it might be better received at a poetry reading. Where people are specifically there to interact with heartfelt poetry.
If you simply cannot wrap your mind around this concept, consider the golden rule. How would you feel if women were constantly doing this to you? What if women you were not attracted to were flooding your inbox with requests for long conversations and emotional intimacy? Or gay men? How would you feel if women you weren’t attracted to, for a wide variety of reasons, got hostile when you didn’t respond to their initial message, to their offers of something you specifically stated you did not want? What would you think if they started escalating to what they perceived as being ignored or slighted with anything ranging from critical disdain to terrifying threats against you and your family?
While I fortunately never received the sociopathic rage of infuriated men, I have been horrified to read the disgusting judgments, name-calling and actual homicidal threats other women are experiencing every damn day. See: #byefelipe #straightwhiteboystexting #tindernightmares
Here’s another way to think about it if a car lot metaphor doesn’t resonate or the golden rule bores you. Take the soul-sucking and loathsome job application process. You craft your resume for each job offer. You research each company and then spend additional time honing your resume, cover letter and personal statement to align with their mission. You share facets of yourself that best reflect each prospective employer you reach out to.
You send out how many resumes before you get an interview? And out of how many interviews do you get an actual job offer? And out of all of the jobs you have been offered, how many of them evolved into your dream career?
Think about how many of those resumes go completely 100% unacknowledged. No part of you thinks, well maybe if I call/email their HR department and politely say, sure would be nice to hear back from you then they’ll respond. And that they’ll respond positively? No. Because in a seller’s market, No Response Is The Response.
You already got your answer.
And you know it.
You just don’t like it.
But you would never continue to contact them, nor would any sane and rational man contact them and say things, well, fine. Fuck you then. I didn’t want to work for your fucking ugly company anyway. A company as lame as yours should be fucking grateful that someone as talented and smart as I am would even be willing to work with you unimaginative losers. But I guess you’ll figure that out when you’re (they’re usually misspelled) company goes bankrupt. Peace.
Sure, it’s not fun. And you’re putting yourself out there. And you’re a nice guy, right? But that’s not the point.
Dating is painfully like this process. Only the stakes are more emotional because you’re “applying for” the love of your life, not just a job. At least I was. Maybe you’re just looking to get laid. Either way you actually are being turned down for who you are or at least who a stranger perceives you to be. You are risking rejection on the most personal level in the hopes of gaining something that is greater than all the risk.
But that is the risk you are choosing to take.
LynxLyre persisted. His third message sent me over the edge. His polite negotiation continued and I suspect that because he was not calling me a fucking cunt, (see: straightwhiteboystexting.org) and that he was kindly requesting interaction that I could/should/would respond. But I saw a man who had three times now disregarded what I want for myself because he was so lonely/attracted to me/generous/giving/whatever that his desires mattered more than my parameters. Again, thank you for confirming that I made the right decision in the first place.
Nevertheless, he persisted.
Hello, if you sent me a message saying I do not think we are a match, or I don’t think we would work, I would send you back a message saying, “Thank you, I understand, good fortune on your search :-)”
Question, do you think the women get so many messages it’s just too much to respond to all of them?
I once received a message back that went like this, Hey buddy, don’t you get it, by me not responding, means I’m not interested! Besides I don’t find you attractive at all, don’t you get it?
Wasn’t that special? LOL
I am a poet, and I enjoy so much sending out my poetry as a gift.
My thoughts in general are that people have a hard time communicating, and that social networking is creating a climate of cold -hearted communication?
When we judge a book by its cover, or judge each other by our telecommunication skills, I think we forget about the fact that we each have a heart,and are spiritual beings.
Sincerely, *his actual name*
Because this polite and long message has no swear words and does not insult me directly I’m going to break it down line by line. Because beneath the veneer of etiquette lies the exact same expectation and entitlement as the short nasty messages. This is the polite version of “well fuck you then, cunt. You’re not even that hot. You don’t even bother to respond, fucking cold-hearted bitch. You don’t even know me. I took the time to write you and you don’t even have the decency to at least say thank you. I guess you’re just shallow.”
His opening line flat-out dictates two things, 1. The fact that I should respond to him. 2. How I should respond to him.
And yes, LynxLyre. Women receive too many messages to respond to unless they want to make a part-time job, (with FTE potential, depending on how sexy you are, or how sexy men find your profile pic), out of assuaging strangers’ egos. This particular website allowed for 300 messages at a time. I have to delete old messages to allow for new ones. So, essentially, he and 299 other guys are sitting there stewing, potentially feeling entitled to a response that matches their initial message in tone and length. 300 men potentially seething with rejection, entitlement and expectation and I’m just supposed to assume that when I politely decline it won’t escalate or perpetuate a conversation I didn’t even want to have in the first place? Please.
I have no way of knowing that he would respect my “I don’t think we’re a match”. I have no reason to believe that a response on my part wouldn’t be the beginning of the negotiation. That it wouldn’t open the floodgate of “well why not” questions. Each of which I’m expected to answer or I’m cold-hearted? This is true no matter how many messages we receive. There have been weeks where I have only received one message. And for any combination of the reasons discussed here, I did not write that lone person back.
So that’s not the reason I didn’t write you back. I wouldn’t have written you back if you were the only message I had received. We write men back who bothered to be interested in more than just our pictures. We write men back who actually read our profiles. Men who fall within the criteria we have posted for what we want. And most importantly, and just … like … you, we write to men we are attracted to. This is the lynchpin that you do not want to acknowledge. Not all women will be attracted to you. And you are not interested in the “heart and spiritual being” of a woman you’re not physically attracted to. NEITHER ARE WE. And that’s ok.
I couldn’t stop shaking my head at the negotiation tactic.
If you would just …
All you have to do is …
Actually, stranger. No. I don’t just have to do anything. I don’t work for you. I don’t even know you. So to presuppose any kind of obligation on my part, however minimal, is illogical. And with literally hundreds of men filling our inboxes with this entitlement is maddening.
I hadn’t learned the term “microagressions” yet. But in retrospect I understand this perfectly.
If women acquiesced to every man online who told her to spend her time and energy to do what he wanted/needed/felt entitled to and in the way he wanted her to then we are no longer free and equal beings. I will continue as though equality is something these men value as well. And I will also remind you that because of the seeming gender imbalance, women would do nothing all day but respond to messages just to protect and nurture the apparently very fragile feelings of perfect strangers if the obligation to respond applies to every single message received.
Then the kicker. That a woman actually had responded. That he had obviously sent her multiple messages that made her snap. And he didn’t like her snappy tone. Was I supposed to comfort him because a woman was direct? Was I supposed to nurture him back to health after the flesh wound this heartless bitch inflicted on him when she took the time to tell him the very truth he’d been requesting all along?
I am certain this woman felt like I did and I am willing to bet he was older than she was interested in dating. I am willing to bet that he wrote her an initial message, probably the same poem, because he thought she was pretty. All the while imposing that tired old double standard on “beautiful” women who are too “shallow” to see past his looks for who he really is. But he likely hadn’t contacted any women he thought were ugly. Or women that are 22 years older than he is.
Lastly. If your poem was truly a gift then it is to be given without expectation of anything in return. A true gift cannot be a debt. A true gift is a message in a bottle. It is thrown out long into the ocean with no expectation of anything in return. It is perfectly heartwarming to hope. But as soon as that hope gives way to dictating not only a response but the kind of response, it is no longer a gift. It is bait-and-switch. It is a lure. A trojan horse. No matter what you call it, I didn’t ask for it. I don’t want it. And I most certainly don’t owe you anything in return.
So maybe technology has hardened all of our hearts. But it has also emboldened some men to demand that strangers indulge their desires and meet their needs while neglecting our own. It has given some men a veil of anonymity that they take advantage of to badger women in a way that they never would in real life.
And I don’t have to respond.