I love to say no. I love to say no like a man: no, I don’t care that home is dirty before I leave for a party – housework is a shared responsibility. No, I won’t help a colleague which is always and irrevocably clueless – because I’m not his/her mother.
And yes, when a man’s lips says «You’re so beautiful» and «Can I give you a hand, miss?», but his eyes scream «I have a chance to get something from you… as long as you stay timid»
or «I really enjoy this moment because whatever I say, I know you’ll never risk to reply rude», I can say No. Though I came to prefer Go Fuck Yourself.
I received an social network friendship invitation from an old acquaintance.
I met Mr.Dude on a dating site, on a very optimistic evening during which I thought that, between adults, it was surely possible to talk about sexuality in a neutral, secured and pondered way. Yes, I thought that saying: «Sometimes, I enjoy sexuality» through intellectual-ideas-dropping could avoid me the slut label. Oh, that remarkable period where I awkwardly tried to apply recently learned feminist concepts, with low coping to separate social influence from individual initiatives in gender inequality.
On that evening, I sadly stumbled upon someone, surely very intelligent and professional, but also sadly boring-to-death and potentially pretentious.
Before cutting short the conversation, I felt that my message has been well understood (I, as another average human, will enjoy sexuality in a positive context), but, after ground reconnaissance, Mr.Fellow wasn’t getting into my choice of candidates to eventually share it. So, thanks boy and good continuation! (Without me.)
I received an friendship invitation on a social network few days later – accepted it politely. Erased soon after, when his feed proven my intuition that Mr.Successful was ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ with Mr.Snooze. Then, the six-month routine started: I regretted, I avoided, I ignored, but too little too late. I already sowed the seed. He discovered a woman with a vagina who was (scandalously) conscious of it!
He would pitch some ‘hey, hello, how are you?’ out of blue, or send me another invitation. He was keeping a link.
He was the investor used to check his investment portfolio on the stock exchange, and I was a sleeping investment. He was fantasizing on that obscure start-up that he discovered before all others and that would, sooner or later, would make him richer overnight!
This summer, I received the usual invitation. But this time, I was invited as a ‘professional contact’
– since the first social network wasn’t proving successful, why not use another… I was red with anger. «Slut at night, so, slut at work, why not?» Rationally, it was just right: I never solved the problem, so it was coming back.
I spent 30 fucking minutes to compose this text. I really made an effort to be polite, but clear – just in case he was, maybe, completely blind and deaf on social signs –
so please, feminist friends, have the pleasure of re-using it!Hi Mr. Mate, I received your invitation to join your social network, which however I decline. Although ongoing interest toward online presence might be flattering for some people, it turns out in the actual case to be intrusive and unpleasant for me. I can understand that my absence of response to the previous contact efforts have not been explicit. Thus, I take the opportunity today to clarify my position of refusal to start or pursuit a friendly or professional relationship. My actual situation is that I am already surrounded by precious friends and that I commit myself in job research with clear goals of networking. Thanks for reading, Your dear Feminist Model.
The reply I had, from French to English, was: «Nice text. I’ll keep it in my archives for future demands. Take it easy…Good luck.»
In other words: «Congratulations for trying to write as brilliantly as I do. Since I’m so handsome, you can’t imagine how many prospects begs for me… Also, I won’t apply self-analysis with this refusal, but consider it as generous free sweatshop work made to be of service and contribute in my lifetime success. Oh, finally – I’ll use your work, I requested your attention for 2 years and a half… but you’re just an idiot. P.S: I’m a gentleman.»
Really, I should have given me the pleasure of saying no from the start.
Credits : Photography & stylism by Kora Bulanow.