Content Warning: This entry contains references to sexual assault. I would like to clarify that while I am referring to sexual assault, what happened to me was not rape. However, I choose to still use the term “sexual assault” because it is the legal definition of what happened. It was important to my healing to learn and accept that what happened to me was serious and by legal definition, sexual assault. I don't want the term I use to seem misleading; however, at the same time, I want the audience to understand that sexual assault has a wide definition and leaves a lasting impact in all of its forms. Thank you.

Confident

August 29, 2020

It’s 7:23pm on a Wednesday night and I don’t know that I really want to go to Publix.

I just finished dinner with my family, my mom is cleaning up since I cooked and she mentions we’re out of eggs and grapes. I was up working at 6:30 this morning, worked until 5:00pm, had a meeting from 5:15pm to 6:00pm, cooked dinner, ate dinner, and now it’s finally my first point in my day where I can have some time to myself.

But I feel that pull. Half of my family eats eggs in the morning for breakfast and the other half eats grapes. My dad and mom are both in their pajamas, Dixon’s out at a gig.

Darn it. 

“I’ll go to Publix and pick up eggs and grapes.”

My mom pauses in scrubbing a pan, turns to look at me, and smiles saying that’d be great. She calls out a few other items and I make a list. I look down at my still-tied Keds and I guess I’m glad I never took them off.

I drive to Publix knowing this is good, hopefully, I can be in and out in 15 minutes and still have about an hour to myself before I start winding down for bed. I put on my mask, step out of the car, and walk the short distance into the air-conditioned grocery store, wondering yet again why I moved back to the hot and humid southeast.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall, kind-of-cute, 20 or 30 something guy walking by as I grab my grocery basket. I give him approximately 0.3 seconds of thought before I keep going on toward the produce section.

A few steps away from the apple display I hear, “Excuse me.”

I turn around as he catches up with me.

He continues, “Can I ask if you’re single?”

“Um, yeah. Yes. I am.” I reply somewhat confusedly. 

“Are you from around here?”

“Yeah, just a short distance from here, actually.” I try to respond accurately but vaguely.

“Cool, I just moved here a couple of months ago.”

I just nod politely and smile before I remember I’m wearing a mask.

“So, can I have your number?” He asks.

“Um, well, uh…  hmmm… um…” I’m saying every verbal filler known to mankind as my mind kind of goes blank and my eyes jump around the brightly lit aisles of food. He’s looking at me kind of shyly and I think he’s starting to sweat. I think to myself, “I don’t know if he’s a Christian.” And then I think, “You’re not going to know his whole life story here in the deli section of Publix. You’re not agreeing to marry him; you’re agreeing to a date. Calm down.”

“Umm, well, I guess I don’t really have a reason to say no.” I finally answer.

“Great!” He pulls out his phone and proceeds to take my number before hitting the button to call me, I’m guessing to make sure that I gave him my actual number.

“So I just moved here a couple of months ago. I flip houses and I just finished one. I’m actually about to list it.” he continues. 

“Wait, are you asking me on a date or trying to sell me a house?”

He laughs and responds, “I’m asking you out. I was just trying to say I have a lot of free time. Are you busy now?”

I hold up my yet-to-be-filled grocery basket and say that I am and he tells me to let him know when I’m free. I agree and walk away to continue my grocery shopping and am kinda shocked. I think we exchanged names somewhere in that conversation too. I’m amused and shaking my head as I pick out some honey crisp apples and then move on to evaluate the grapes.

As I get home fifteen minutes later I walk in the front door and loudly announce, “I was asked on a date! At Publix!” to my entire household. My parents look no less than shocked.

“And you said yes??” My dad asks.

I put away the groceries and notice he texted me.

Here’s the thing.

My dad’s not wrong to be shocked. I kind of have dating anxiety. I’ve said yes to a date and then canceled the day-of out of fear more times than I have actually been on dates. And I’ve been on at least seven or eight dates during my time in DC. I say “during my time in DC” because there were no dates before then and it sounds better than saying, “In my life” at age 25.

Truthfully, I’m tired of that pattern.

I respond that I’m actually available tomorrow night if he’s free as well. He is, so we set a time and place to meet for dinner.

Thankfully it’s time to get ready for bed by the time we’ve got our date plans set so I don’t think on it anymore.

The next morning, I get up for an early morning yoga class and my sole focus is not going back to bed, drinking a protein shake so I don’t pass out during the first chaturanga, and getting there before the yoga class begins, so I actually forget about the date. The yoga class is challenging in a good way and it takes all my focus for an hour. I drive home and my thoughts are consumed with the early morning work text that I need to figure out how to respond to and it’s not until I’m home and mid-brushing my teeth (again?) that I remember,

“I have a date tonight.”

Followed immediately by,

“Oh no.”

The rest of the time I’m getting ready, I’m starting to spiral into anxious thoughts and all the “could go wrongs” and I think to myself, “I’ll just cancel, say a work emergency came up.” And then I feel a resolve. No. I’m not going to allow myself to be ruled by fear in this area of my life. Not anymore. I try to stop every thought and tell myself God and I will deal with it during our quiet time in a few minutes and instead think through a work project I need to tackle later today.

Too quickly, though, I’m sitting in my favorite chair with my Bible open before me and I’m concentrating on the word of God, feeling peace and perspective return to me. I open my journal after I finish my reading and bring my fears to God.

I don’t know that I have time to date right now.
I don’t know that I want to dedicate emotional energy to this.
I don’t know that I’m ready for a relationship.
I don’t know why he asked me out, he doesn’t know anything about me.
I don’t know if he’s a Christian.
I don’t know if he watches porn.
I don’t know that he isn’t objectifying me.
I don’t know that he won’t want more out of this date than I’ll give.
I don’t know if I’ll have a choice.
I don’t know that he won’t assault me.

Ah. There it is.

I sit for a minute and listen for the Spirit within me to respond to my fears. To rebut them with the truth.

If he’s not a Christian, I don’t have to go on a second date with him. If he watches porn, if he’s objectifying me, if I’m uncomfortable, I can leave at any point, put some cash on the table, and block his number in my phone. I didn’t say yes to a relationship, to a marriage, to anything more than a date, and I don’t need to worry past a date. So I force my mind to stay at “I’m going on a date, my only objective is to determine if I want to go on a second date.” Thank you, God, that we are in a mask required state right now, so I can put on my mask as soon as we’re leaving and he won’t have the ability to kiss me and I can park close to the entrance so he doesn’t try to walk me to my car away from people, and we’re meeting there, he’s not picking me up. I’m starting to get to the heart of the matter. The other concerns are real, but they’re not the ones driving the intense fear that keeps me reaching for my phone drafting a text to cancel.

I don’t know that I won’t be assaulted again.

I feel so powerless. I’ve been assaulted by someone I didn’t know and by someone I was interested in. I’m signing up to go on a date with someone I don’t’ know and I have to acknowledge a truth that I didn’t realize was in me.

I might be afraid of men.

Weird.

Not only do I have assaults in my history, but I also worked at a nonprofit fighting sexual objectification and exploitation. My real name and picture is on a pornography industry news site. I’ve read the book. I know how porn affects the brain, I know how objectification leads to assault. I know how women have been conditioned to ignore the warning signs so as not to be “mean” or “rude.” I know. I know intellectually and I know experientially. I know.

And I’m afraid.

Sure, I’m not afraid around all men. I’m safe around my dad and my brother and my close guy friends, and a handful of other men that I know well enough. When I get a bad vibe, when my gut tells me something’s off, I trust it, and I respect it. 

I didn’t have a bad vibe with this guy, it’s why I gave him my number.

But I still feel that fear, and it’s oppressive. I don’t want to be governed by it for the rest of my life. I’ll never get married if I can’t say yes to a date.

So I tackle it.

I feel powerless, but I know that if there’s an alternative to being assaulted again, I’ll take it. Even if he was, for some strange reason, armed and it was get shot or be assaulted, I’ll take getting shot. That might sound extreme, but it’s not! It’s something women are confronted with in a world where sexual entitlement exists. I feel fear because I know that there are men I pass by on the street who don’t care about my hopes and dreams and purpose and who I am in God, who instead, believe they have a right to my body for their sexual gratification solely because I am a woman. Every woman on earth lives with that knowledge, whether a conscious thought or not.

So God and I resolve my anxiety by constantly reminding myself that I’m only going on a date, so I’m going to just go on a date. I resolve the fear by knowing I’ve prayed to God for safety, that I’m taking solid safety measures, and by knowing, absolutely, that I’ll do everything in my power to assure I’m not assaulted again. Sure, I can’t know 100%, the dude is like 6’7” and I’m 5’5” on my license, but what I do know, that’s different from who I was before all of those times I was assaulted, is that I am capable of self-advocating, of listening to myself, of acknowledging when I feel uncomfortable and not allowing myself to remain in a situation where I feel uncomfortable, and of knowing that I have the strength of the Spirit, can tap into the strength of God and don’t rely on myself in any situation.

I need to know I can do this.

So an hour before my date I’m sitting with my family as I’m finishing up some work from home and they’re watching the evening news discussing the odds of if I’ll cancel. My mom wants me to go on the date so she’ll stop hearing the “should I go, should I cancel” before I’m asked out every time. I relay my, “I’ll get shot rather than allow him to do anything I’m not comfortable with.” My brother snorts, perched on the arm of the couch across the living room, and says, “Madison, he’s not going to be armed.” I just shrug my shoulders and say, “I’ll be ready regardless” as he rolls his eyes and goes back to his phone.

I finally head out to my date, get there a few minutes early, and am seated by the hostess. As I’m waiting, I look through the menu, order a glass of water, and walk through in my mind all of my anti-anxiety self-mantras.

He walks in not too much later, takes a seat in the chair across from me, and our date gets underway. I’m asking questions, listening to his answers, and in about ten minutes, I am sure there won’t be a second date. I manage to work into the conversation that I’m faith-oriented three times and anti-pornography twice. But in a subtle, casual way, of course.

I’m feeling okay! Confident, authentic, and okay. Toward the end of the date, he starts indicating he expects, or at least would like, for the date to continue in a non-public way. I’m tactfully rerouting the conversation with different questions and am feeling pretty great about how I’m navigating this conversation. I’d long ago realized he’s not a Christian and does watch porn and that this date wouldn’t progress anywhere beyond this table.

He’s telling me about one of his past jobs as an armed security guard when he mentions that I should really get a concealed carry permit living in Alabama and that he, “never goes anywhere unarmed in Montgomery.” I’m laughing internally and kind of give him a questioning look when I say, “even here?”

“Well yea, you’ve got to be prepared. Like if someone came in that door and charged at you, I’m trained to react. Granted, it will take me a moment to get a shot fired off as I don’t keep one in the chamber, ya know, since it’s right here.” and points at his crotch.

Well at least I know that’s his gun he keeps adjusting.

He pays the bill, asks if I’m free this weekend, and I respond that I’ll actually be working and have family obligations so probably not, but thank you for dinner! I slip on my mask as we walk out the door and wave cheerfully as I drive away, running an errand across town before I drive home.

I feel good. Like really good. Not because of him, that’s not going anywhere, and he only asked me out because he wants to hook up as I thought, but I’m proud of myself! I navigated my worst fear, a date with a guy who is anti-everything I believe in who only wanted to sleep with me and was armed and I am okay! I can handle myself well and I can rely on God. I call my friend Kandace and leave a voicemail saying something to the effect of, “Ahhhh I did it! Kandace, I’m so proud! Ahh! Call you later.”  Very Leslie Knope calling Ann Perkins-esq.

He texts me not too long later to ask if I’m free the next night. I respond kindly that I’m not interested and that I wish him all the best. He takes it graciously, but mentions that he’s there if I need to “relieve some stress.”

ew. 

I literally cringe and resist the urge to reply that I took up embroidery and baking for stress relief and that no one should use those emojis like that.

But I’m feeling confident. Not only is my discernment on point, but I did it. I handled my biggest fear and came out victorious on the other side. I feel really good.

When I finally get home from my date, I throw open the door, startling my brother and announce,

“DIXON, He WAS armed!!!!!”

I’m feeling oddly vindicated.
(and pretty darn confident)

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