For anyone with even a passing interest in gender equality or women’s rights, it’s a relief to see feminism becoming more and more mainstream. No longer solely the domain of crotchety academics who demand we take a lighter to our lingerie, feminism’s makeover for the new millennium has made it as accessible and fun as a Beyoncé single – and it’s everywhere we look. There are feminist boxing classes, feminist baking groups, and, of course, feminist dating websites. Because when we talk about “having it all”, we also want a feminist boyfriend, right?

In theory, it sounds excellent. It would be a hard slog to have a relationship with someone whose sociopolitical stance differs hugely from yours, so when I first began identifying as a feminist I thought that my beliefs would carry over seamlessly in to my dating life as well. I’m a feminist, so shouldn’t the men I date and sleep with be feminists too?

Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite so simple. From the man who opened a text conversation with a photo of his naked chest and encouraged me to reciprocate in the name of the Free The Nipple movement, to the fellow who agonised over accepting a blowjob because, despite enjoying them, he found the act simply too degrading to let me perform; dating male feminists turned out to be one of the least empowering decisions I’ve ever made.

It’s not that I don’t want to be with a man who respects me, values consent, or is conscious of the various gender-based imbalances in the world today. These qualities are a bare minimum.

But men looking for feminist-sanctioned romance tend to fall in to one of two categories: those who use our attraction as a sign of approval and seek out trophy feminists to clear their conscience of any inherent patriarchal wrong-doing, and outright predators who employ a bare-bones knowledge of feminist discourse to target any young woman whose politics so much as graze the notion of sex-positivity.

The commercialisation of “feminist dating”, whether at a social event or on an app or website, only entrenches these attitudes further. It laser-focuses the male gaze on an environment where men can hamfistedly wield their limited knowledge of women’s empowerment to look for sex partners and girlfriends in a movement that demands women be seen as everything but.

For every male feminist horror story I have lived, I’ve been told a dozen more by equally-frustrated female friends.

For every male feminist horror story I have lived, I’ve been told a dozen more by equally-frustrated female friends. There was the chap who invited me to an event, not so much as a plus one but as a testing ground for his ribald, sexist one-liners. After each remark he would look to me, gauging my reaction to see exactly how much of his cheap and dirty humour he could unleash while still passing the feminist litmus test.

I had lunch with a man whose openness about sex and sexuality impressed me until I declined his offer for an afternoon quickie – his response made it clear that his feminism had no room for my apparent frigidity. Then there was the gentleman who messaged me every second day to ask my fem-pinion on everything from vajazzling to Lena Dunham’s memoir. When I finally asked him to cool his jets, he responded furiously that I should be grateful for his incessant questions and I was lucky a man wanted to hear my opinion at all.

It’s not that I don’t think men can be feminists. There are several men in my life who have approached feminism with respect and considerate thought, who have used feminism to examine their own privilege and experiences within the world and have become better people for it.

But these men are in a disappointing minority compared to the rest of the male feminists I, and many other women, have encountered: men who use the term “feminist” as either bait or an alter-ego, assuming that their opt-in respect for women will entitle them to legions of adoring lovers – really the most anti-feminist act of all.

When it comes to dating and relating, I don’t care who opens the door for whom, or who picks up the bill. I simply want to be in a relationship where my politics aren’t sexualised, where I can look at my partner and see more than a “Hey girl!” meme come to life and know that they, in turn, see me as a three-dimensional being: a feminist, yes, but not one who will perform on command.

Feminism has enlightened and empowered me, and now I’m using that power to put my foot down and say “no more” to the movement’s male members. bell hooks is nobody’s wingwoman. And while it may be correct to say #NotAllMaleFeminists, I would simply rather: not any.