I can laugh at parts of this story now, at least a little, but the fact is, I was very lucky. This is one of the rare times in my life that makes me feel like someone or something was looking out for me, if nothing more than my intuition, though I'm not sure now that it was God.
My first job I got because a stranger recommended me.
He worked at my dad's office, and as he was around my age, my dad's boss and his wife were talking about me, trying to set us up. I think they mentioned that I was involved in martial arts at the time; unfortunately this figures in the story.
He once told my dad, "Tell your daughter that some friends and I are going to the coast for the weekend, and she's invited."
Outrageous, that I would go to the coast and party all weekend with people I had never met! And that he would dare tell my dad--my gun-toting, body-building dad! I laughed at this at the time, but now it gives me the creeps.
He worked part time at a vineyard near my house (he didn't know how near, thank god). The boss needed him to come and work more, but he couldn't, so he mentioned me. On the way to taekwondo, my dad and I swung by the place and talked to the owner. I was actually on the way to a "belt testing," to potentially be promoted, and so wore my impressive Leadership uniform. That may have also saved me.
My dad did most of the talking. I had misgivings about it, but thought it was because it was my first job. I agreed, partially not to disappoint my dad, to come to work the following Monday.
This place was isolated, in the country, the nearest house at least three hundred feet away, depending on where you were in the field. I didn't have my driver's license, and so was "stuck" there. This could have been very bad. I will never make this mistake again.
I met him briefly my first morning of work. He was cute, and I tried to put my nerves out of the way, knowing that I had social anxiety and an overactive imagination. I didn't get any "bad vibes" from the brief meeting that morning; he just seemed to like me without even meeting me, which was strange.
Later that day, my new boss had to take his cat to the vet. As I was working, I saw the kid's car pull up across the rows of grapes.
"Hey, are you thirsty? You know there's a place where you can fill your water bottle. I'll give you a ride there."
Strange boy's car! a paranoid voice in my head screamed. But I was thirsty, and I thought I was overreacting. I was always nervous meeting new people, especially boys.
We drove up to a house near the field, talking about my dad and his boss and various things I can't remember now. The house was empty, only used for the bathroom and filling bottles. We stood in the deserted kitchen, filling our bottles.
"They said you were cute, and I think they were right," he said.
I was a bit taken aback at his frankness. "Oh. Thank you. I think you're very brave for saying that."
"Well, I believe actions speak louder than words," he said in a tone that sounded like he was boasting.
"Um...what does that mean?"
(Maybe I should have seen this coming. I certainly am wary of this pickup line now.)
He pinched the front of my shirt, about two inches above my belly button, between his fingers, and leaned in towards me, his lips puckered. He was a bit shorter than me, so I just leaned back and I must have been out of his reach. I must have made quite a shocked face, because his expression went from suave confidence to "oh-shit-I-screwed-up" in no time flat.
"Oh," he said. "I guess you don't want a kiss."
"I just, um, I just met you," I muttered. I stared at him, wondering, Does he think we're in a movie?
A smooth operator--so smooth that he made the most awkward blunder I have ever seen.
I had been scared, when he had grabbed my shirt. I saw myself running through the rows of grapes, wondering if I could outrun him to the nearest neighbor for help--or if they would even be home. I saw myself screaming at first, then decided against it, for he would surely find me.
I think he knew what I was thinking. It was like an unspoken message between us: "Well, um, you seem nice, but I just thought, you know, that you were going to rape me. It's not you, it's me--well, no, it's you, because you were making a physical play for me that scared me a lot."
I was shaking. I started to laugh a bit, probably out of nerves more than anything. He apologized, and said he thought I saved kissing for special boyfriends. "Maybe someday," he said.
"Someday?" I asked, amused, but not laughing with him.
"Well, maybe."
He explained, "I'm really into action."
I told him awkwardly that just because I was a legal adult, didn't mean that I did adult stuff (I was really into purity back then, which is why I had to have the courage to say no, though I didn't want to "hurt anyone's feelings").
We drove back to the vineyard. He still seemed embarrassed. We talked a little. In between other, normal-sounding things, he mentioned that he had had to come up from another state because he had got in some trouble with the law.
"I've really mellowed," he said. "I'm not a good boy yet, but I'm better than I was."
There it was again, Does he think we're in a movie? If I hadn't fallen for the smooth operator, did he really think I would fall for the "bad boy?"
He said I seemed shy. I said I wasn't shy; I didn't like being called shy. He insisted; I was silent.
"So you probably don't like to go to parties and smoke pot?"
"No..." At least not the parties he was talking about. If smoking pot was what he admitted to doing, I wondered, what was he not telling me? "I'm afraid there might be, um, something in the drinks."
"Oh," he nodded, seeming to feel as awkward as me. "Well, I think you're a goody-two-shoes. You just like, sneak out and ride your horse, right?"
Is he really saying this? I wondered. Does he honestly think we're in a movie?
"I'm not a goody-two-shoes," I said. I didn't even need to "sneak out" to ride my horse.
"No, I think you are," he said.
"Well...there's something to be said for that," I demurred. I did not want to go to a party with him; I didn't even like him at this point. I was not going to be manipulated--like in the movies.
He asked if I wanted to go with him to the nearby deli and get a sandwich. What kind of work ethic is this? I wondered. I said I had to work.
He brought me a sandwich. When he returned, my mom was there. This was her day off, and she also brought me lunch. (Yes, of course I told her everything. We laughed at him while he was gone. My mom was there--another point in my favor.)
My mom stayed a while, until quitting time. She had nothing better to do, and so sat in the car and read a book.
Now here is the really scary part: A few years later, I saw his picture in the newspaper. Apparently he was wanted for coercing underage girls into having sex with him--by threat of force.
Taekwondo saved me. All I had to do was talk about it. I was extremely lucky. My weird facial expression, the doctrine of purity, my mother being there--all of these factors worked in my favor as well.
I felt like a fool, and a little guilty, at the time for thinking that a "nice guy" (albeit a horny one, a player looking for another score), would rape or assault me. I didn't learn until years later that my "paranoid" reaction, my fear, was correct. I had never met a rapist or predator before, or player for that matter. I didn't know what they were like--or rather, what it felt like to meet one.
No more working in the country for me; at least not without a car, and not for or with strangers. No more getting in cars with "nice" guys. No more acting like I like someone before I know him. No more going along with the typical "meeting a guy" script.
And most importantly, I no longer feel bad about all-but-calling a "nice guy" or player a rapist.
I now only work in town, with a car--and with a can of mace in my pocket.
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