Picture this: the perfect promposal. The one that every teen girl dreams about. Close your eyes. I mean don't do that, keep reading. But picture it.
     

Teen Girl makes her way to the high school parking lot after school with a gaggle of other teen girls, chattering about school and sports and friends. Little does she know, Teen Boy is waiting by her car, poster in hand. Teen Girl gets closer and closer to her car; by now Gaggle of Friends are pulling out their phones to capture the perfect moment on film. When T.G. finally reaches her destination, she sees him. Gasp! The moment is finally here. T.B. slowly unrolls a bright, multicolor sign that reads, in all caps:
   

 CONGRATULATIONS. YOU ARE WHO I'VE SELECTED TO BE MY PROM DATE.
   

 There is not much of a difference between this and any other prom ask in existence. Because what is the girl supposed to do, turn down an evening with a boy who gifted her with a poster made by one of his female friends (because his masculine hands can't create color), a compulsory say-yes situation, and a crisp bag of Skittles?
     

This is not to say that every single promposal is a malicious attack against women, no no—there are plenty of other micro-aggressions that are solely garbage acts of misogyny that are much more worthy of that proud label. This is just to say that…hear me out…"no" is a valid answer. *Audience gasps! But in horror this time.*
   

Promposals, which tend to take place in a public setting, have the ability to be problematic because of the situation they create. If Teen Girl says no, she hurts Teen Boy's feelings. Coincidentally, or maybe not so coincidentally, in the public eye.     

And we absolutely cannot have that. Even if T.B. has been harassing T.G. for months and no one viewing the Picture Perfect Promposal ™ is aware of the context: T.G. must say yes. How can she not? This would make her ungrateful. This would make her a word that very much so starts with the letter B.
     

She can't say no. No was never in the equation. So what is this telling teen girls?
   

Blow this off as trivial. Call it another recycled, dramatic essay by an SJW dying for the approval of other SJWs. But I remind you: social constructs start somewhere. Social implications start somewhere, and we learn them, take them with us into adulthood, and regard them as law.
     

So just…stay with me here…do the bare minimum: think! I know how much brainpower you expended coming up with that clever promposal pun. Diverge a bit of that brainpower here for the betterment of women everywhere.