Friday, October 7, 2016

Always Walk A Girl to Her Door

Last night I went on a date with a cop whom we will call M. We had been talking for a couple of days and decided to meet up for drinks. He lives in Concord and offered to come to Uptown to meet me. So, me being the lazy bum that I am, I picked the bar across the street from my apartment.

The date went okay. Unfortunately for me (or him), I thought he was super attractive, so I immediately clammed up. And unfortunately for him, this only really happens to me when someone isn’t very easy to talk to. And he wasn’t. Apparently both of us don’t talk that much in front of people we aren’t comfortable with, so it was slightly awkward. However, he did a really good job trying his best to keep the conversation going. All in all, I thought it went well despite a couple of awkward silences. We hung out for the span of two beers, which is about an hour and a half in dating speak, and I definitely wanted to hear from him again (despite him being slightly shorter than I am, so there! I don’t want to hear it anymore from people who think I should lower my height standards...).

As he walked me back to the parking garage where I enter my building (about a half a block from the bar we went to), we saw a man run into the garage carrying a bag. He was shortly followed by a security guard and a man in plain clothes and a name tag. M rightly pointed out that the first man had stolen something and that security guard was never going to catch him walking after him like that. He half-heartedly mentioned helping the guard, since M is a cop and all, but he decided against it.

Anyway, we tried to ignore what was going on because it didn’t look super serious. We stood outside the garage for a couple of minutes where he mentioned “next time” quite a few times (which doesn't usually happen if you've had a bad time – at least on my end), so I got the impression he had a decent time as well.

We said our goodbyes and I, already having forgotten about the man with the stolen bag, headed inside the parking garage. I opened the door that leads into the room with the code box that opens a gate to get into the stairwell of my building and promptly ran into the thief. And my mind went blank.

Everyone says the human body reacts to fear in one of two ways: fight or flight, and now I know which way I will react in a dire situation.

Flight.

I was immediately terrified and just started saying over and over, “I’m not going to say anything!” while he said over and over that he wasn’t going to hurt me. I opened the gate, flew inside the closest door and tried not to lose my shit.

It took me a while to calm down from that, but I have no regrets about not turning him in. I’m a girl and apparently a big ole scaredy cat. There was No. Way. I was going to risk my life to rat him out. I mean, what if he'd had a gun?!

Anyway, when I got back to my apartment and was able to hold my phone without my hands shaking, I texted M about running into him thinking he’d be all over it wanting to know how it went. Well it's now well into the next day, and I still haven’t gotten a response. Guess he didn’t have as good a time as he led me to believe. Story of my life!

Oh well, I guess I'm mostly just happy to be alive at this point. And part of me is hoping I may have gained some street cred for not ratting that dude out. Could come in handy later on.

P.S. I don't think I would've been very good at the Hunger Games...

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