From the Tools menu, select Options > TextEditor > All Languages > General…… then check the box beside Line Numbers.

You can also turn on line numbers for specific languages too – just select the target language instead of “All Languages.”

If you’re on the right screen and you still don’t see it, make sure the “Show all settings” option in the bottom left corner of the Options windows is checked.

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To be perfectly clear, when I contacted the staff at SF Women Against Rape to let them know about what they were have purported to have sponsored, they were unaware that their name had been used in conjunction with such a horrifically flawed attempt at crafting a catchy, clever, innuendo-filled headline.

This is the last straw in what I find to be a pattern of shortsightedness regarding user privacy and safety, questionable sales tactics, and generally tasteless conduct on the part of yelp hq, and as of today, I’m removing all of my “useful” content – I’m not willing to contribute to padding the wallets of anyone who thinks nothing of pairing innuendo with sexual assault.

Keep in mind that not only did yelp send out this message, but their flawed user privacy practices – including completely violating the contract that only your first name and last initial were to be exposed – allowed at least four people I *know*, including myself, to be stalked, some receiving death threats, people showing up at their places of employment, etc.

And had I known that someone who once tried to strangle me and run me over would be able to find me out of the other hundreds of people with my first name and last initial on yelp, so that they could move across the country and into my neighborhood, start showing up at my morning coffee shop, on my train, and following me to my house, I would have never written those reviews.

But thanks to their misrepresentation of their privacy policy, I did – and he did.

That’s what made the content of this ‘newsletter’ the last straw.

Yelp, it was fun while it lasted, but your head just got too big to see what’s really going on. And yes, that’s what tends happen when you only think about what’s going on between your legs.

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There’s so much I need to say to you.

When I first moved to San Francisco, I was attracted to you immediately. When I saw your profile on the internet, and after meeting you a couple of times, I thought we’d make a perfect match. At first, I saw you at least twice a day. I was enraptured by the way you’d take me to work in the morning, and bring me back home at night. I’d never had anything quite like you in my life.

You know, there were parts of our relationship that seemed a bit strained. Like those three minutes in the… uh… tunnel after leaving the Castro, heading back home. You always moved so… tentatively. Were you afraid of hurting me? You know, it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst I’d ever had… it was just a little… awkward.

But then, you started to get neglectful. You’d show up 10, then 20, then 30 minutes late. You’d get distracted on the way, and sometimes you’d make me get out and find my own way home. You started to ignore me if I wanted to get home after 10 pm. And sometimes it seemed like you were only half there. But the last straw was in January, when you left me stranded, to fend for myself alone every night after 9. It was then that I decided to leave you for someone else I had my eye on for a while, wanting to get to know him better. Yes, it was your brother, NJ.

For months, my relationship with N was fantastic. I could leave whenever I wanted, come home whenever I wanted. He’d go anywhere with me, do anything. But then, I think N started fooling around. I have a sneaking suspicion that it was with that new girl, T.

I put up with it for as long as I could. But it just kept getting worse and worse… he was late all the time, if he even showed up at all. He stopped taking me where I needed to go, sometimes kicking me out downtown and leaving me to walk the streets alone instead of taking me all the way to Caltrain. A girl can only handle so much neglect, so much psychological abuse, I tried to tell him. I threatened to leave, but I just didn’t have the money to go where I needed to everyday without him, and I was still too mad, too proud to return to you, L.

But finally, after several months of treating me worse and worse, N’s disregard and psychological abuse became manifest as physical violence, sending me to the emergency room, and leaving me unable to get anywhere on my own for the unforeseeable future. At that instant, I knew it was over between me and N.

So, now, L, I’ve returned to you, with my head hung low. You might not take me to as many cool places as N, we may not be able to stay out as late, and I may not be able to get coffee when I meet you every morning. And you did almost do the same thing your brother did when I was leaving you the other day, but you realized and atoned for your mistake quickly. When we’re together, it might still be a little… uh… awkward at times, but I can deal with that, L, if you’ll have me back… for now.

In anticipation,
elle L.

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