When I last dated, in 2010, flip phones were all the rage, you spent more time crafting your text messages, and e-mails were lengthier and more thoughtful.
Many male friends of mine comment that I'm being silly for feeling this way, but unless you have been stalked by a man in his car while you're walking along a deserted street at night, you have no idea.
“Men should take care of the big things, such as the house, the car, and trips, and women can find a way to pay for other things,” my father once told me. In my profile I said I was seeking a long-term relationship: no one-night stands. One person who replied seemed nice enough, asking me how I was doing, and whether I’d like to go to dinner. “Well it’s all the weightlifting and eating right,” he said, as he wolfed down a plate of buffalo wings.
Within minutes I received dozens of “likes” and several text messages, but then realised they could not be from mature adults. When I turned up at the restaurant, the only person I saw looked like a college kid. He flinched when I half-jokingly asked to see his driving licence.
I've received my fair share of doozies, including questions about my personal hygiene because of my race.
Having those messages in my inbox helps me quantify these "offenses." But lest we think this is happening only in the virtual world where men (as a straight girl, I haven't received many messages from women) send racist messages from their comfy beds, let's not forget this happens in real life all the time.