There was a time in college when I walked home by myself after a party (okay, I’ll be honest— there were many times). But this time in specific was when two guys approached me and asked if I wanted them to walk me home. I told them that I was all set. They asked if I were sure. I said yes. They asked if I were really sure. I couldn’t help but think, “This is how it happens.” Thankfully, I was not a statistic that night.
When I was living out in Utah, a guy had asked me if I wanted to go hiking for our first date. Hiking? On the first date? Is it just me or would any girl immediately think the worst? I tried to convince myself it was just me.
So, I agreed. Told myself that I was paranoid and overreacting. But still, I was nervous for days beforehand. Days. The thought was creeping in the back of my mind. There were so many times I felt compelled to suggest dinner instead. Was he nervous, too? And not just about meeting. Something tells me no.
To combat my nerves I insisted on picking the trail. I made sure it was heavily trafficked. I made sure we’d go and come back before sundown. I made sure I told my roommate which trail I was hiking. I shared my location with her. Told her how long it would approximately take me to finish. Told her his first and last name. She checked in with me while I was hiking. I didn’t see it for a bit. She double texted me asking if I were okay. Thankfully, I was not in any danger.
I never accept a ride from a guy I don’t know on the first date. “You’re on the way! I don’t mind at all. It would be easier to take one car!” It doesn’t matter. You never know.
One time I took an Uber home to my apartment after landing at the airport while I was still living in Boston. I landed at night, so it was dark out. I didn’t think much of calling my own Uber until I walked up to the guy’s car, and he was visibly upset. Like really upset.
He picked up my suitcase, threw it in the car, and then slammed the trunk closed. My nerves sky rocketed. Still, I thought, “Calm down, Taylor. You’re just paranoid.”
On the ride back to my apartment, I noticed he missed my exit. He kept apologizing and saying he made a mistake, but I immediately thought, “Did you? Or was this on purpose?”
We circled around, and my eyes were glued to the GPS on his dashboard. “Please, just get me home. Please don’t let this be the reason a picture of me circulates the internet with the words ‘Last Seen’ stamped across the top.” I was silently panicking.
He told me he knew a shortcut. To “trust” that he knew where he was going. “Trust you? Based on what? Your anger within the first five seconds of meeting?”
We entered a parking garage, and that’s when I really panicked. I had my current location pulled up, ready to send to my roommate. Thankfully, he pulled right out, and as we were leaving, I noticed that we were back en route to my house.
There’s this really unsettling train of thought that unfolds when you’re in a situation that feels wrong. You second guess everything. You start thinking, “I’ll wait until I’m really sure that I’m in danger before I reach out to (insert your emergency point of contact here). I don’t want to make them nervous, if I don’t have to.” Or, “I’ll wait until the last second to question this guy’s motives aloud. I don’t want to misinterpret the situation and feel really awkward afterward.”
So, you wait. You hope. You pray. You reassure yourself that you’re gonna be okay. “I’ll get home. I’ll wash my face, get into bed. It will be okay.” But the truth is, you have no idea. You are simply just waiting, praying that you don’t find yourself saying, “Oh, God, it’s happening.”
You might be thinking, “Why don’t you just speak up? It’s better to be safe than sorry,” and you’re right. It is better to be safe than sorry. I have spoken up many times before. But sometimes speaking up does the opposite of keep you safe. Sometimes, it incites a person more. That’s why the universal checklist women run through only exists in our heads.
We watch our drink, locate the exit, keep our eyes on the blue highlighted route on his GPS, check his license plate, cross the street, etc. etc. etc. all without saying a word. Why? Because running through the checklist is so engrained in our heads that it’s second nature, and it’s only when we’re out of bullet points that we start panicking. We silently go through everything we can think of before it’s time to “speak up”, and even then, we think, “Will being compliant serve me better here?”
So, you tell me— which option do I choose?
There are times I purposely ask if the man who’s my Uber or taxi driver has a family. Specifically, I’m wondering if he has kids. I’m checking to see if he has a wife and, more importantly, a daughter. As if that small fact alone is reason enough for me to believe that he’ll see some tiny resemblance of her in me. Keep me safe for just that reason alone. Crazy? Probably. Lots of men who do terrible things have wives and daughters. A lot of the time, they’re not safe, either.
I have a million more examples of times I’ve had to ensure my safety and question a man’s intentions. I have a list of things I run through in my head, as does every other woman.
The crazy thing about all of this is that nothing has ever even “happened” to me. All that worrying and wondering was essentially for nothing but quite literally impossible not to do. Because the second you let your guard down and don’t run through the universal checklist all women inherently know, you become vulnerable and susceptible to whatever the hell is on his mind that day.
And the craziest thing about all of this? You can run through every checklist known to woman and still be in trouble. There is never really a time when you’re certain that you’re 100% safe. That’s just how this cookie crumbles.
It’s scary to think that I’ve carried pepper spray, taken self defense classes, shared my location, watched my drink, avoided this area, avoided that area, and done countless other things in my life to secure my safety, and that every other woman across the world has done the same while most men don’t have a second thought about going on a date, getting in an Uber, or being alone at night with women they don’t know.
“Thankfully” is a word I repetitively used throughout this post. It was intentional. “Thankfully” implies that it’s not in my hands. That I can do everything under the sun to prepare and protect myself, but ultimately, if a man has bad intentions, he will make them known, in one way or another. And if he doesn’t have bad intentions, then I’m just thankful.
If you’re a guy and you fall into the “good intentions” category, do what you can to make women feel comfortable. Speak up when things are wrong. Protect the women in your life when you can. Advocate for the ones who need it. This issue will never be resolved if women are fighting it alone. We need men to do their part. It’s a two way street. Let us walk down it together without having to cross to the other side.
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