February 10, 2002 - 11.24 pm
Something really scary happened to me tonight. We have dinner on Sunday nights at Helen's. It's really fun. Definitly one of my favorite college things. And everyone brings something, you know, bread, salad, dessert, whatever. So, tonight, my job was dessert. Since we were running low on some things, I decided to go ahead and get some grocery shoping done at our favorite grocery stores. When I went in, I noticed this man, about 40, unshaven, slurring, a fixed, dead look in his eyes hanging out at the entrance of the store. So I straightend my shoulders, put my head up high and walked right past him. I got my bread and shampoo and dessert (mint chocolate chip ice cream for those of you playing the at home version.) and was leaving the store when the man came up to me. My arms were full of groceries, and my mind was already at Helen's. He mumbled something and I said "excuse me?" and he said, "You wanna get laid?" and I freaked out. I said something like "Not in your wildest dreams you disgusting pervert" and walked past, my heart thumping, praying he'd stay where he was. I had my rape whistle, but it was in my pocket.
I parked a little ways out. I had my roommate's car, and it's habit to park sort of far, because she's a health nut and likes to walk. So I'm walking alone, in a fairly deserted, dark parking lot and he's following me. Not too close, but close enough to hiss things like "I know you didn't mean that", "You want me, I can tell,", "You don't get out much", "I'll rock your world","c'mon baby, let me pop your cherry" I kept walking. Faster and faster, hoping, praying I could get the car unlocked before he would catch up to me.
When I got to the car, I shifted all the groceries to one hand and quickly pulled out the keys, praying I'd pick the right on to unlock the door, and it must have worked, because I unlocked the door, threw the groceries on the seat leaped into the car slammed and locked the door before putting the key into the ignition. I could see him sneering at me as I drove out of the parking lot.
It took everything I had to keep it together and not lose it there in that parking lot. When he said "hey baby let me pop your cherry" I wanted to scream at him that it was too bad. My "cherry" had been popped by men like him, men who pray on women, who use them, who have no respect for anyone. Twice in my relatively short life, men have used my body for their pleasure. And this man tonight saw something in me that made him think he could pray on me. That I would think little enough of myself to hop into the backseat of his car and have sex with him, that he could intimidate me and that I would be afraid.
I was afraid.
I hate that. I hate being scared. I hate knowing that it could happen again. I could be raped again. I could be victimized and maybe the next time I won't be so lucky. I've gotten away twice, the statistics are bound to catch up with me.
Tonight, Laine's boyfriend, Ben, put his hand on the back of my neck, just for a split second, and normally I wouldn't have minded it, but my mind was screaming "don't touch me don't touch me" even though, I really do trust Ben. And later, I was coming down the stairs, and he jumped out of a corner at me and frightened me so badly I cried. It was dark, I don't think he or Rob noticed, but I was terrified.
When I got back to our apartment, someone slammed a door behind me and I jumped like, four feet off the ground. I turn around expecting to see his face at my windows, I expected him to be in the back of the jeep when I got in after Helen's.
There's this voice at the back of my mind telling me that it's just a matter of time. This will all catch up to me again. There's just something about me. Maybe not him, but someone. Someone will see in me what they saw in me and I won't be so lucky. I won't get away.
This isn't all the time, understand. Just sometimes at the end of a very long day, or after I've been frightened.
But it makes me angry, too. So very very angry. Beneath the fear and sadness, I'm mad that I don't feel safe. I'm mad that every time a man approaches me and it's even remotly dark, my heart starts pumping and my muscles tense and I'm ready to run away. There are so many good men in the world, and yet I expect them all to be bad. Why so often date rape is brushed off as "boys will be boys". No. What an insult to the honorable, respectable men. Why are they allowed to get away with "boys will be boys"? Why do we expect and allow it? And why do people blame the woman? I was wearing jeans and a RENT tee-shirt. I hadn't any make up on, and my hair was pulled up into some little clippies. But what if I'd been wearing a shortish skirt, heels, a lowish cut top and some lipstick? Then I'd be responsible for whatever happened to me. Because men are beasts and can't deal with their base, animal instincts. No. There are noble, intellegent, upstanding men. And we don't acknowledge them enough. And we underestimate them, and turn women into harlots who tempt the weak willed men and then cry rape when we get what we want. And I'm angry.
But sometimes, selfishly, I wonder. Why me?
Emily
