SOUL SAP

TinderPad

Folks, it's been a minute. Anytime I sit down to write, I stare at my screen until I see three of them, and then I put it away so I can watch more Buffy reruns.

After talking to a good friend today, I realize it isn't writer's block. It's the fact that I no longer feel like this platform is serving me in a safe way.

A bit of a PSA: Wattpad has turned into yet another way for men to approach women in an inappropriate way. I purposefully only post ridiculous photos of myself on here in the effort to detour predators.

By the way, I originally wrote "lonely men", but no. They are predators.

Men, this is a writing platform, not Tinder.

This is unwanted attention. No, you cannot have my email. No, I do not want to meet up with you. No, I do not want to have a conversation with you that isn't 100% about writing. Yes, I have a vagina, and no you can not see it. Like ever.

And I'm angry that I have to write this.

How did this happen? There's a half dozen dating websites out there. Is it because this is free? Or maybe it's more diabolical. Maybe it is because we aren't expecting it.

When I'm on a dating website, my guard is up. Like WAY up. My guard is like a turtleneck from 1992. It's a game that you have to play, and you turn your Red Flag meter up to max volume. And let me tell you ... I could teach a three day seminar on red flags.

But I'm prepared. Not much even surprises me anymore because I'm almost numb to it.

As women who are creative, we feel things deeply. To feel safe and uninhibited is the pie in the sky. When I first joined, this is how I felt. I was anonymous and just writing silly anecdotes about being a small town girl vacationing in Arkansas.

Listen, I'm certain I'll get feedback along the lines of "Well, anytime you put yourself out there on an online platform, there is always risk". Bullshit.

There is risk for women. Period.

That's the exact same rhetoric as "Well, she was wearing a short skirt. She should expect attention." Or, "She drank too much ... doesn't she know how unsafe that is?"

It's only unsafe because some men don't understand boundaries.

And while I have long and incredibly strong legs (again, not trying to be sexy here) that can wrap around a predator's neck like  the boa constrictor Mrs. Hart had in our 5th grade class, I shouldn't have to think about that while I'm walking to my car ... always with a key between my pointer and middle finger. Always looking behind me, wondering what that noise was.

Predators can happen anywhere. Outside the donut shop in a rural America or apparently on an online writing platform.

This is my plea: Please stop. Leave us be. We just want to write and be read. We want to get our stories out there and make people feel something. We do not want you to ask us how we are doing.

We are doing fine. Actually we were doing fine until you asked us how we are doing. Now we are not fine.