I walked out of a bar with a man I’d been grinding with. He invites me to go home with him. I ask him where, then say no, because it’s far [I don’t have a car]. I invite him to my place, and say it’s only about ten/fifteen minutes walk. He wants to come, but would rather drive. Fine. I get in his car, and give him directions. He doesn’t turn when he’s supposed to. I tell him he missed the turn, and try to give new directions. It’s fine, he says. I’ll turn around at the intersection, he says. He doesn’t. I’m starting to panic. He tries to convince me to just go to his place. I say no, but he keeps driving toward it anyway. I tell him to let me out of his car, and he keeps trying to talk me into going to his place. I say no again, and he still doesn’t let me out. “Let me out right now or I am getting out of your moving car.” I’m holding my phone, ready to call 911.
He slows down, and I don’t know if it was to let me out or to turn or for a stop sign or what. But it’s a safer chance to get out than I had 20 seconds ago, so I take it. The car is still moving, but I unlock the door and jump out, stumble, and run. The man is completely shocked at me. He yelled something after me, but I don’t remember what.
Once I’m a couple blocks away, I see his car again, and he slows down to talk to me. He says something to try to get me to get back in. I yell no and run. He finally drives away.
I call a friend and keep him on the phone, telling him where I am, until I’m back downtown again, where people are still up and around.
I get home and lock the door, and let the friend know I’m home safe. I’m shaken, and it takes me a while, but eventually I calm down, and I think about how this is the world that I live in. This man refused to let me out of his car and yet thinks I’M the one whose behaviour is wrong for not still wanting to fuck him after he lied to me about where he was taking me, and for getting the hell away from him. I imagine him telling his friends about this encounter, only in his interpretation of it, I’m a crazy bitch who got out of a moving car, and worse, a tease.
The next day I told one of the men I live with what happened – because we were friends or at least friendly, because I wanted to tell somewhat about what I could barely believe had happened, because he’s a man and I think men need to hear from women about how men hurt women (so that they won’t hurt women, and so they will call out other men).
He criticized my judgement for going home with the man.