the bookstore

Recent events brought back a memory, one I hadn't thought about it in a long time. (Warning: Long post ahead.)

-----

I was browsing at a second-hand bookstore when a guy asked me for recommendations for his wife. Chatted for a bit, asked what she liked, gave some suggestions, standard stuff.

He talks more about his wife, how he wants to find a way to connect, to make her happy, to bring a smile to her face. Me outside: Politeness and helpfulness. Me inside: Okay, whatever, don't care buddy, but sure, here are more suggestions if it will end this conversation.

He starts talking about how they are drifting apart, she's not the same person he married. Now I'm uncomfortable and trying to end the conversation politely. I wish him luck in his shopping and move to another section.

He follows.

He says that his sex life is empty because his wife has lost interest. That she won't have anything to do with sex, won't touch him, and she won't even watch him masturbate. She doesn't have to do anything, just watch. And she won't even do that for him.

"You wouldn't have a problem watching me, would you? I'll bet you wouldn't."

I walk away, towards a group of people. He follows.

"I'll be out in my car when you leave...watch for me, watch me, I'll be thinking of you, you can watch while I come." He heads out, looking back at me the whole time.

I just want to leave, but I don't want to run into him. I spend another fifteen minutes staring blankly at the book titles, not really seeing anything, just stalling for time.

I see the group of people leave and I try to blend in with them out the door. It didn't work...the guy was sitting in a white sedan across from the entrance (a county government car, no less), staring at me, motioning for me to come over.

I turn the opposite direction and keep walking. I just want to get in my car and leave, but I don't want this guy to follow me.

I walk a few blocks up, staying near groups of people. They cross the street, I cross the street. I walk into busy stores and wander around. I pretend to have a conversation on my mobile phone.

Eventually I make my way back to my car. Still being a bit cautious and paranoid, I don't drive straight home. Just in case. Better safe than sorry and all that.


Why didn't I tell someone? Because it didn't seem real. Because it escalated before I realized it. Because I honestly didn't know how to react. Because I didn't want to anger him, to put myself in danger.

Because we are taught from a very young age to just play it cool, don't incite, don't do anything that might make them mad, it will only make it worse for you.

Because he was bigger than me. Because he wasn't hearing me and he kept going in spite of anything I said. Because it was my word versus his, and I didn't know if people would believe me.

Because I was freaked out. Because I was just trying to get out of there.

I would like to think that the person I am now would handle it differently. Take his photo. Get his license plate (especially since he was in a county car). Start recording the interaction. Walk away while calling the cops.

Something. Anything.

But I honestly don't know. I might end up doing the exact thing I did then: try to extricate myself with minimal drama and take all the precautions I could to make sure he didn't follow me.

I really don't know...and that's unsettling. I had a very hard time going back to that bookstore for a while. I avoided that area. I didn't make eye contact with anyone driving a county car, just in case it was that guy.

He got into my head and made me change my patterns, and I fucking hate that. I'm better than that. I'm stronger than that. Aren't I? I am. I think?


This is why people are coming forward, even after years. Because that helplessness and confusion stays with you, colors everything you do. And hearing that you aren't alone, that other people have also been there, it helps.

You feel a little less like an idiot and a little more like a person. Like maybe, just maybe, it's not your fault after all.