Dear Dan Bacon,

Ok, so let me get this one really, actually right. You wrote a whole ARTICLE that is now PUBLISHED  for other actual human eyes to see- spouting your expertise on how to get girls with headphones on to talk to you. Yes? Mmmmk.

Setting aside the total douche-baggery of that pursuit for a moment, when I look at the homepage of your blog, below is the checklist of your expertise you’re peddling to other men who are, theoretically, actually looking to you for advice, which in and of itself is unfathomable. But let’s just say it’s true.

You, dear misguided, what’s-wrong-with-so-much-of-the-world-today, total bag of pricks, HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE.

So, because I am a nice, kind, helpful woman, who like, KNOWS ACTUAL WOMEN, I will shine a light on the day in the life of a gal trying to 1) survive, 2) deal with and 3) just navigate around total douche-canoes like yourself.

(Note my fanciful variations on the word “douche”– aren’t I sweet and spicy all at the same time? It’s probably the hormones. You should ask me if it’s that time of the month.)

See, dearest Dan Bacon, just tonight, in scrolling through my social media feeds I’ve encountered:

• at least one rapist convicted and set free after just 3 months of prison time for a heinous assault, cause he was a “good boy before that”
• a famous singer who got a slap on the hand for literally knocking the crap out of his girlfriend was just arrested AGAIN for assaulting a woman
• your d-bag article is viral– while rape victims bear the burden of proving their crime happened even if they were drunk/wearing a short skirt/went home with them

Today at work, I heard a group of men laughing about a woman who was likely “grumpy” and had a great bro-laugh about one’s suggestion to tell her to “calm down; they really love that.”

In this great state where I live, the burden of proof is on ME to show not only intent, but opportunity for my husband’s infidelity and because I was unwilling to be aggressive in court and share that proof, I have had to wait over a year to be allowed to divorce him. Also, if I don’t change my name that very day during my 15 minutes in court, it’s $1200 and several months in court thereafter. TO TAKE BACK MY MAIDEN NAME.

Yesterday at the gym in a room full of wide open machines, a man chose the treadmill next to me and did the side-eye stare for a full 5 minutes while I ignored him until he left. (Clearly he didn’t read your article or those earbuds would have magically flown out of my ears and we’d probably still be engaged in a sweet make-out sesh right now.)

Daily, we are bombarded with images of a “mean” “sick” Hillary dragged through the coals about the cost of her suits– while Trump gets away with spouting hate rhetoric that is supported by members of the Klu Klux Klan (who actually, literally openly voted for him). How much do his suits cost? Oh, you don’t know? No one’s ever asked? Interesting.

And Anthony Weiner (I mean, WEINER, ammiright?! You should totes bro hug it out with him, I think you’d get along famously.) is FINALLY booted out by Huma– and she is the one who has to ask for the world to give them privacy? Fucking Weiner should be out there on his KNEES begging for forgiveness from all of us, but mostly his WIFE AND CHILD. Not Huma. Huma should not have to be the voice. She’s borne enough.

I could actually go on and on because sadly there are umpteen-million good examples of where we women have to tip-toe around douchbaggery at its finest.

But I fear dear Dan Bacon that I’ve likely lost you already. I mean, you’re probably still up there looking at your own picture and admiring the BACK OF THE HEAD of the woman you have on your website, cause God forbid you even give her a face.

Bottom line: if a woman has her headphones on, she would likely like to listen to the thing she selected on her device. She is not avoiding you. She is not even a little bit thinking about you. She is not being coy. She is not being unapproachable. She is not being ANYTHING other than a person listening to music. Or a podcast. Or books on tape. Or anything that is not YOUR MOUTH SPEAKING TO HER.

Dear Dan Bacon, on behalf of all the women on the entire, actual whole planet known as earth– please stop. You are the problem. You are why we are scared. You are why we cannot even anymore.

Repeat after me: I shall not write any more douche-canoe-filled-with-vomit articles about anything other than how I shall work toward empowering women, supporting feminist causes and making sure equal work means equal wages.

Oh wait, what’s that dearest Dan Bacon? Huh?

Sorry, I can’t hear you very well– I’ve got my fucking earbuds in.