Confession: I Do Not Take Elevators With Men

“There is a helpless feeling that comes over me whenever I must take the elevator with men. It serves as the perfect set up for me to be robbed, harassed, kidnapped, or assaulted; maybe even murdered.”

Even before I knew what misandry was or could formulate a theory of what it could be, I always had a habit of automatically stepping off of elevators whenever the elevator doors opened and a man or group of men with no woman or children in tow stepped on. It wasn’t anything I was aware of, either. As soon as I saw a lone man I knew it was my time to exit stage left and wait for another elevator.

There was the time when I was in Orlando for a convention. I got in a lot of exercise taking the stairs up and down to my hotel suite. Of course the stairs seem more dangerous for a single woman, but there is a feeling of control that exists when I can run and move on my own time. In elevators I must remain put for a few minutes, all while my heart is quickening and my body is uncomfortable. And if anything were to happen to me I am stuck in a moving box.

If for some reason I couldn’t step off when a man or group of men join me, due to limited availability or time, I always move as far away from the opposite sex as space permits. I want to be on one side of the elevator while he remains on the other side. I hate being stuck…