I’m Unsubscribing and It’s None of Your Fucking Business Why.

One man’s personal struggle with unsubscribing from email lists.

I’m unsubscribing from your email list and I am not giving you a reason why. I am doing it because I can and because I want to. I find the fact that you need me to give a reason before I can click the unsubscribe button to be hostile and aggressive and frankly, a bit intrusive. Have you ever heard the phrase, “No is a complete sentence?” It is and this is my equivalent of saying, “No.” No, I don’t want to take your course. No, I don’t want to know when your next webinar is. No, I don’t want a pill to enhance my erections. (I mean I do, but I don’t want to be emailed about it). So, when I click unsubscribe, just unsubscribe me. Don’t ask me to click a reason why. It is none of your business. Maybe it’s because I think you are full of shit. (I don’t see that as an option to click.) Maybe it’s because I hate the colors you have chosen to use to advertise your 5 easy steps to a better me. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to see your gif’s that you attached to make your email seem cute and irreverent and relatable. Maybe it’s because I get too many fucking emails and I just want less in my in box. Maybe it’s because you remind me of some douche from college that I’d rather not be reminded of on a daily, weekly, or bi -weekly basis. Maybe it’s because I just want to be left alone to think for myself because I am deafened by all the noise in the world. I am bombarded with opinions and information on a daily basis whether I turn on my phone, computer, or television. It’s the equivalent of some coked-up millennial talking non-stop in my ear, but in this case it’s in my eyes and they hurt. I just want a little quiet because when I read your email all I can think about is how desperately you seem to be avoiding the fact that the oceans are heating up by a few degrees and the coral is dying and the fish are filled with plastic and toxic levels of mercury and the rainforests are disappearing and entire species are being wiped out. I think about the fact that the richest people on the planet just want to go to Mars rather than figure out what to do here and how that is a sincere reminder of how fucked the 99% is and how awful it feels to know that people at the end of the day really only give a shit about themselves. And hey, I’m not saying I’m different, but I will say that if I had a shit ton of money, I’d be using it to try and find out ways to take care of our current home planet, not figure out how to make a new home planet and forget about the old one. So, no, I don’t want to receive your emails anymore and no I don’t want to click other and explain why (just read above) and no none of the reasons that are provided are quite adequate. Just unsubscribe me and go back to your denial and leave me with my truth (oh, and please don’t be mad at me because even in all my self-righteous anger, I still worry that you’ll see that I unsubscribed and will feel mortally wounded.) I’d rather be angry and sad living in reality than be delusionally chasing/selling false happiness in the form of distractions as the world crumbles around me. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I think there is still room for joy. It’s just the joy that one would experience while selecting what meal they want to eat and what music they want to listen to while on board the Titanic. . . just as it crashes into the Iceberg.