On Consent (Don’t Hit Send)

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Photo by Isaiah McClean on Unsplash

Don’t mistake my silence
For acquiescence
Don’t send another picture
While you wait
I’m simply sitting here
Trying to process
Why another dick pic
Seems to be my fate
And why you think
I want to see another
When I didn’t even ask for more
Would you want to show these
To your mother
Would you want this
Posted on your door
And where did we lose
The art of dating
When did the courtship
Go away
Now all these men care about
Is mating
And if you say no thanks
They will not stay
And yet they don’t wait
For our consent
The pictures flood
Our inbox everyday
As if this is what
We must have meant
When we said
We were hoping
Just to find a date
And, no, I don’t want to meet
At your hotel
And, no, I don’t want to drive
To your house this night
I’m torn between saying
Go to hell
And deleting your contact info
From my sight
Because no one asked
To see your lonely member
And I don’t need more
Sex that isn’t real
When I think of dating
This is not what I remember
And dating shouldn’t
Be so distasteful
That this is how I feel
So to every man
Who is still reading
And to every woman
Who feels this in her heart
Because we pause in shock
We’re not conceeding
Clearly, dating is now a lost art.

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