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A man sends you an email that reads, “Hi, I’m John” or “Hi, I’d like to get to know you.” The messages aren’t offensive. A “Hi” message is equivalent to saying, “Hey, I didn’t read your profile and I don’t care about your brain or your personality, but we should go out sometime.”Emily got those emails as well, which I found really interesting.
Did these men think the 19th-century photographs of Emily Dickinson I had posted were images of an actual living, breathing woman? Or were they just so desperate for sex or companionship that they emailed every profile they came across? They didn’t know my age, my weight, my gender, nothing.
Here we were, two modern, educated women, and we had spent nearly two hours talking about our romantic relationships! Putting on my big-girl feminist cap, I said, “You know, there have been a lot of talented, amazing ladies, throughout history, who never coupled off.
I didn’t want to be the sort of woman who spends her entire life talking about boys.
I love making it for the neighborhood children, but I can’t leave the house.
Instead, I stand at the window and lower it down to them in a basket. Well, technically, Jane Austen was the zombie killer, not Dickinson, but close enough.
I don't usually start off a post with the impact points right at the beginning.Emily Dickinson, for example.”Emily Dickinson has long been my go-to gal amongst my single lady heroes.She was a virgin, unmarried, and a recluse, but, man, was she talented.For all they knew, I could be an 80-year-old man or a group of thirteen-year-old girls or a really smart gorilla.Yet still they wanted to meet me; they wanted to know me.