My research assistant sent me this article in Elle magazine, which asks a bunch of women who, to me, all seem the same about dating in a “post-Harvey Weinstein world”.
Here’s a flavour of the responses:
I don’t just march misogynists into my life. My screening process is intense. I ask a lot of questions and try my best to carefully analyze the photos of anyone I meet. A sampling of inquiries include: What do you do? Where do you live? Where are you from? Who did you vote for? Do you have tree nut allergies? Etc. Still, when I add up all the dates I’ve been on this year, including the good ones, what I remember is: The casual racism, the constant interruptions, the arrogance, the insistence that he knows best about literally anything and everything.
So screening men with questions like “Who did you vote for?” lands you on dates with racist, misogynistic assholes? Heh. Want to tell us how they answered?
A date recently asked me ‘where I was from’ after telling me I had ‘an exotic look.’ When this kind of nonsense happens I cut it off right at the head. In response to this dude, I just went silent, too angry to even engage.
You’ve just told us you filter men by asking where they’re from. A man asks you the same question and you seethe with rage. As for the “exotic” comment? Well, so what? Some women like being called exotic.
I’ve blocked more guys from more means of communication than I can count over the last 12 months.
Which speaks volumes.
Woke bae is out there somewhere … I remember things that my own father would say years ago that he would never say now and that’s because he’s got two razor-tongued daughters that continually check him at any opportunity … at the moment, I don’t have a concrete solution for this problem and I also don’t have a boyfriend either.
I can’t imagine why.
For example, I was talking on the phone with the guy I’ve been seeing for a few months…he was subjected to a long rant about how such reports often fall on deaf ears, how reporting often creates more conflict in the woman’s life than in the perpetrator’s, how shame is dealt unfairly in such situations.
To him, I’m a whole person, my own universe, rather than simply a satellite in his universe—a first for me in a romantic relationship. But recently, I’ve often struggled to maintain composure and openness while explaining things to him that every woman I know understands intuitively.
Even luckier him.
My litmus test was simple: casually mention scandals in the media and gauge his reaction.
This is on a first date. Can you imagine an actual relationship with this person?
But above all, don’t, absolutely don’t go back with a guy to his apartment unless you want to engage in some sort of sexual activity—especially with the guy you only went on two dates with who said you would just watch a movie.
Finally someone’s said something sensible.
The article illustrates one of the most bewildering contradictions in modern times: the feminist idea that modern women should be carefree, promiscuous, powerful, go-girrrl high-flyers as portrayed in Sex and the City, while at the same time:
To be safe, you must follow the rules: Don’t leave your drink unattended or accept a drink from man, because he may roofie it. Don’t make eye contact with the guy who catcalls you on the street—he’ll just see it as an invitation to talk to you. Remember that creepy old doorman who tried to ask you out after seeing you pass his building on your way to the gym each morning? You haven’t forgotten how uncomfortable that made you feel, and it’s been months.
I’ve reached the conclusion most of them are barking mad.