Page 16 of Your Pace Or Mine

I unlock my door and head to the shower, giving my head a shake. No need to walk down that road. We’ve gone there already and have a million reasons not to go there again. Kelsey seems like she’d be a happy distraction for the time being.

I’m getting home from the office on Wednesday when my phone pings with an email from Ashley. She’s launched her profile, but it’s too soon to see what traction she’ll get. She did mention she’s jumped headfirst into the dating pool, so I guess I’ll hear more soon. It feels kind of weird to be this involved in my friend’s love life since we haven’t been in touch that regularly over the past few years. It’s not like we’ve been privy to each other’s daily lives like when we were students.

Part of me hopes that after kissing enough frogs to generate some good content, she’ll find what she’s looking for—the whole white picket fence deal. A real success story would generate good publicity, but more than that, she’s my friend and I want her to be happy. It’s a little bittersweet that we’re the only single ones left of our university cohort. Once Ashley meets the love her life, I’ll be the last one standing. It’s a little lonely, but I remind myself that at least we might be able to profit off Ashley finding happiness.

The email’s subject line just says “Suggestions for the app”, leaving me curious as to the contents. She sent a handful of attachments; I make the mistake of opening one and my eyes are assaulted by a man’s, er, equipment, captured in horrifying detail.

“Jesus, Ash. What is this?”

I immediately close the window, wondering if it would be unwise to wash my eyes out with dish soap. Before I can text What the fuck, Ashley? I go back to see the actual message. It might ask for money to bail her out of jail in Indonesia so I’ll know she was hacked, which would make more sense than what I just saw.

Hey Sebastian,

I know we talked about troubleshooting the app, so I’ve been talking to some of my friends about what works on dating platforms and what doesn’t, and we all had the same complaint—unsolicited male attention.

I know what you’re going to say: Many of us are on the app because we want to meet men. (By the way, even the women looking for women get harassed by men online.) That may be true, but we aren’t there to have our eyes assaulted by men’s genitalia on a regular basis, or to be crudely solicited by men that we haven’t even had a pleasant exchange with. I’m sending a few screenshots from the past week of use. One week. I’d love to talk to you and Seth about how we can make Single In The Six a safer place, and what measures can be put in place so there are real consequences for this type of behavior.

Best,

Ashley

I let out a long slow breath. This never occurred to me when I asked her to collaborate. I figured she’d ask for, like, music in the profiles or emoji keyboards, but she’s not a teenager using MySpace. I obviously underestimated her interest in tweaking the app. It’s only fair to consider what she sees regularly, so I begrudgingly click through the images. Holy. Shit.

It’s not just the dicks; I’ve spent enough time in men’s locker rooms that my sensibilities aren’t offended by a few penises under bad lighting. It is, however, gross that so many sent the photos without ever interacting with her at all. Dude, has that approach ever worked for you? I know Ashley is tough, but she shouldn’t have to see this junk.

Far more disturbing are the screenshots of text exchanges—the guys who wrote hello to her or exchanged a brief greeting, then immediately launched into crude sexual offers, seemingly expecting her to drop everything and come over right away and calling her names when she didn’t reply. One guy sent ten messages with a variation of “frigid bitch” after she didn’t respond at two in the morning. I feel dirty reading it, and even dirtier knowing this is on a platform I helped to build, my own app. My stomach hurts thinking about it.

I dial Ashley’s number, my hands shaking with rage at the sheer audacity.

“Did you like the slideshow?” she asks innocently when she answers. I curse and she chuckles dryly.

“Geez, Ash. I’d heard it was bad, but I didn’t know how bad. I didn’t realize it was constant.”

“You’ve never done it? You’ve never sent a dick pic?”

Well, sure, but not like this. Right? I think back, trying to be honest with myself. But I don’t send this kind of thing to anyone who hasn’t asked. Aside from knowing women hate it, I’m not sending nude photos of myself to just anyone. I don’t want to be on a listicle of toxic men in the Greater Toronto Area.

“I swear on my life, Ashley, I’ve never sent intimate photos that weren’t solicited. And I’ve never requested them from someone unless we were already in that territory.”

“Really?” She sounds so skeptical, I want to be offended. But after seeing Exhibits A through Z of male desperation, she has reason not to believe me.

“Look, if we’re exchanging flirty texts and she asks, I’m not opposed to it. I don’t send that shit to strange women, and I never will.”

“Good to know,” she replies. “So now what are you going to do about it?”

I pause and think. “Did you report the users? We have that function.”

She lets out a world-weary sigh that leaves me afraid of what’s coming. “Firstly, I shouldn’t have to have my eyes assaulted. I’d like better filters so I don’t have to see that stuff to report it. Secondly, I reported all of it, and several of the text exchanges came back as ‘not violating the terms of the app.’ What the hell are the terms, then?”

My stomach sinks. We outsourced that service and some of it is automated, so the system isn’t doing a good job of recognizing what our terms define as “mutual respect” and “harassment.” Fuck.

“And also,” she continues before I can respond, “some of them I’ve reported before, and they pop back in with new usernames.”

“I can’t control everything,” I say half-heartedly, but I know it’s a terrible excuse.

“Well, do better then. Look, you guys marketed this as a way to foster local connections. So now the creeps sending me their junk or calling me a bitch are not only in the same city, but they know what neighborhood I’m in. They might be around the corner. I’m not a techie, and I’m not here to tell you how to do your job, but since you asked for my input, here it is. Figure out how to improve the situation.”

My mind is reeling, but she has a point. I’ve asked her to be active on the app regularly and promote it, and that shouldn’t mean she has to put up with predators and assholes. No one should have to deal with this as an unwanted side effect of genuinely trying to find the One.