The Epidemic of Disrespect

“The standard you walk past is the standard you accept.” — David Morrison

There was a recent article in a UK magazine that described having a boyfriend as “embarrassing.” Not toxic. Not problematic. Just... embarrassing. That word stuck with me. It felt like a symptom of something deeper—something unraveling in how we view connection, intimacy, and commitment.

Over the past year, I’ve had countless conversations with both men and women about the dismal state of dating. What’s strange is that these same people are actively using dating apps. They’re swiping, matching, chatting—and yet, they’re not finding each other. Why?

Is it possible we’ve been so influenced by digital culture, so conditioned by curated personas and hookup norms, that we’ve lost sight of what genuine connection even looks like? Or maybe the people who crave attention, casual flings, and validation through likes and DMs are drowning out those who want something real. Are they ruining it for everyone else?

The Moment I Spoke Up—Too Late

Recently, I experienced inappropriate behavior from a man in a public setting. I did speak up—but it took me longer than it should have. I hesitated. I second-guessed. I weighed the consequences. And that delay made me realize something unsettling: we’ve become so accustomed to disrespect that it feels normal. Expected. Like something we’re supposed to endure quietly.

This isn’t just about one incident. It’s about a culture that subtly teaches us to tolerate what should never be tolerated. We brush it off. We tell ourselves it’s not worth the drama. We convince ourselves that maybe we misunderstood. And in doing so, we let the behavior persist.

But what if speaking up—however late—is the first step toward change?

The Slow Erosion of Standards

There’s been a slow erosion of what we consider acceptable. Ministers lose platforms or are arrested for sex with minors. Leaders in our country publicly call people names as if cruelty is a sign of strength. This isn’t about politics—it’s about how we’ve gradually forgotten the humanity in one another.

The person you’re sending an inappropriate picture to is someone’s mother, daughter, sister. The man who touches you without consent doesn’t have a “right” to your body just because he finds you attractive. There’s a cultural delusion about what’s normal—and it’s dangerous.

It’s not normal to send unsolicited pictures. It’s not normal for women to DM strangers soliciting sex. It’s not normal to call people names on the internet. It’s not normal to write ugly comments on someone’s Facebook post. It’s not normal to cut off an entire gender because of a few bad experiences.

And yet, these things happen every day. People are exhausted. Emotionally depleted. It’s as if we’ve forgotten how to regulate ourselves—how to pause, reflect, and choose decency.

A Personal Reflection

If I’m honest, it makes me sad.

Sad to watch the way we speak to each other. Sad to see the opportunities we miss for genuine love, care, and connection. Sad that we’ve become so influenced by digital culture that we often forget how to be human with one another.

We’ve replaced vulnerability with performance. We’ve mistaken attention for affection. And we’ve allowed entire ideologies to convince us that the other side is the enemy.

Movements like the 4B movement—where some women vow to avoid relationships with men entirely—and the red pill movement—where some men adopt hyper-masculine, anti-feminist worldviews—are symptoms of a deeper fracture. They’re not just reactions to pain; they’re cultural narratives that reinforce fear, mistrust, and isolation. They tell us it’s safer to check out than to risk being hurt. That intimacy is a trap. That connection is weakness.

But that’s not strength. That’s survival mode. And it’s costing us something essential.

We’re not meant to live in echo chambers of resentment. We’re meant to grow through connection. And if we keep letting these ideologies define our expectations, we’ll keep missing the very thing we’re wired for: real, messy, imperfect, beautiful intimacy.

The Erosion of Partnership

It feels like we’re at the end of an era—one where partnership was seen as a meaningful goal. Now, it’s often dismissed as outdated, restrictive, or even embarrassing. But why are we so eager to throw it all out? Have we lost the meaning of what it means to truly connect with another person?

Especially for men, the constant exposure to sexualized images, unsolicited DMs, and hookup culture creates a kind of desensitization. It’s not just online—it bleeds into every setting. And for women, the pressure to perform, to be desirable, to compete with digital avatars of femininity, can be exhausting. Some participate willingly. Others feel disillusioned. And both sides begin to believe that “good people” no longer exist.

So What Can We Do About It?

If we’re living through an epidemic of disrespect, then healing starts with personal responsibility. Here are a few ways to begin:

Set Your Standards—And Stick to Them

• Decide what behavior is acceptable to you—and what isn’t.

• Communicate your boundaries clearly, whether online or in person.

• Don’t compromise your values for attention, validation, or fear of being alone.

Speak Out When It Matters

• If someone crosses a line, say something. Even if it’s uncomfortable.

• You don’t have to be confrontational—just firm and honest.

• If you witness disrespect toward others, be the voice that interrupts it.

 Relearn Emotional Regulation

• Pause before reacting. Ask: “Is this kind? Is this necessary?”

• Don’t let digital culture dictate your emotional responses.

• Practice empathy—even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

 Remember the Humanity in Others

• That stranger online? They’re someone’s child, sibling, parent.

• That person you’re tempted to ghost or insult? They have a story you don’t know.

• Treat people like people—not profiles, not objects, not enemies.

This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being intentional. If enough of us choose respect, maybe we can rebuild what’s been lost.

We haven’t lost the ability to connect. We’ve just forgotten how to protect it.