That was the three-letter response I gave a man who sent me a furious 15-paragraph DM last week.
It cannot be overstated how little mental energy I dedicate to men's anger toward me.
Truth be told, I don't even reply to men who send me polite emails. Partly due to the fact I'm not qualified to provide the advice they're seeking, but largely because even their most well-intentioned messages are steeped in entitlement.
When women write in – which is rarely – they'll say, "Would it be okay to ask you something?" or preface their question by acknowledging they don't expect a prompt response. And more often than not, they've done some preliminary research before reaching out.
Men typically send queries that could be answered via a Google search, and demand an immediate answer. "Are you there?", "Why won't you respond?", "I guess you think you're too good to reply to me?" Read the DMs, just hours after the initial question has hit my inbox.
It's this same unchecked entitlement that seeps into their conversations around sex.
Men are taught to view women's bodies as something owed to them if they follow the correct protocols. Be a "good guy", say the right things, drive a nice car, and a girl will obligingly go upstairs with you, boys are told.
But as the collective dialogue surrounding consent and female body autonomy has ramped up, women are increasingly going off-script and dictating their own new sexual norms.
Perhaps the most salient example of this, is the meteoric rise of OnlyFans.
Launched in 2016 as a site for social media personalities to monetise exclusive content, the platform had 24 million registered users and allegedly paid out $US725 million as of May this year.
With an overwhelmingly male subscriber base, it's also become a viable business model for women entering the adult industry. By allowing creators to deliver X-rated content directly to consumers from their homes, it's dismantled many of the obstacles that previously stood between women and sex work.
Where once escorting and performing in porn were risky professions reserved for a niche group of industry mavens, adult content production has now well and truly made its way into the mainstream.
Chances are you know a few women who use OnlyFans as an income stream. When you put creators in the driver's seat and strap in unlimited earning potential, you're going to see an uptick in users, and even more traditional personalities – including the likes of Bella Thorne and Blac Chyna – are turning to the platform.
What's striking about the OnlyFans boom, isn't the shift of sex work into popular culture – this was always inevitable, in the same way platforms like Instagram and Snapchat bought being a B-grade celeb to the masses – it's the fact the very audience driving its success is actually its biggest antagonist.
Male privilege teaches men to view sex as a right, but it also installs in them the paradoxical disdain of women who choose to exploit that system as a means of survival.
Statements like, "Not looking for a girl who sells photos of her body" and "If you have an OnlyFans, swipe left. I'm not interested in women who don't respect themselves" make such regular appearances in men's online dating profiles, they've become memefied.
In one such meme, a man is pictured sprawled across an unmade bed watching porn while surrounded by week-old takeaway containers, dirty laundry and used tissues. The caption above him reads, "I could never date a girl that has an OnlyFans. Like, have some self-respect."
However, for the men who perpetrate these double standards, the hypocrisy is far less comedic, or obvious.
Earlier this week, a woman sent me a screenshot of an Instagram story from a man she'd matched with on Tinder. It read, "There is nothing more comical, slapper-like or cheap than girls posting quotes, memes and/or stories saying they want, but can't find, true love … Yet in their bio they have links straight to their OnlyFans and post sexually suggestive and explicit pics daily."
I clicked through to the man's Instagram profile and was greeted with dozens of shirtless selfies flexing in front of various reflective surfaces and a "following" list of lingerie models and female OnlyFans creators. The only thing more painfully lacking than his self-awareness, was a clothed photo.
And yet, there was a clear sense of smug vindication in his post; a palpable annoyance at having stacked the deck and still wound up with an empty hand.
While men make up the largest audience demographic in adult content spaces, there's a jarring cognitive dissonance around their consumption of the work they resent women producing. And perhaps more concerning – an inability to fully humanise the women whose bodies they most desire access to.
It's of course possible for a woman to be sexy, even to monetise her sex appeal (and arguably prudent to do so in a culture that already objectifies us against our will) while still being a multifaceted, complex person. We shouldn't give any time to men who are unable – or perhaps unwilling – to conceptualise this.
Leave them to scream angrily into the void. Or, you know, maybe throw a "LOL" in every once in a while – it's a reminder their rage won't quell us.