I WISH

I wish I had never met Walter with his dark Latino good looks and country boy demeanor.  We spent the party sitting in the far corner of the house moving closer with every drink we had.  He opened the door and helped me into his truck so we could go out for something to eat.  We laughed as we shared stories of our childhoods, our college days and our failed jobs.  Once home, Walter parked the truck and then turned toward me.  Before I could even reach for the handle of the door his hand was up my shirt and his lips on mine.  His aggressiveness so surprised me that I hit him.  He immediately stopped “What was that for?”  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  I opened the door, jumped out and ran into the house.   All of my Dad’s stories of entitled young men came back to me in a flash.  He taught me well.  

I wish I hadn’t gone home with Jim Simpson after the party.  He charmed me with his sweet smile and good looks, with his kindness and confidence.  My inexperience making out was obvious but he whispered in my ear that he would show me how.  Our kissing turned into french kissing and then his hand was up my shirt and before I knew it he was laying on top of me on the couch and I could feel his hardness.  I pushed him away and told him I needed to go home.  Lucky for me he wasn’t a total louse and the minute I said “No”, he stopped.  I could have gotten into a lot of trouble that night.  

I wish I hadn’t sat next to the creep on the bus.  When he saw that a couple were looking for two seats together he asked if I wanted to sit next to him so they could sit together.  In my 16 year old naïveté I gladly complied not even suspecting his ulterior  motives.  As I rested my head against the window he gently put his hand on my leg and started working up my thigh, while at the same time he turned and kissed me.  Shocked I immediately stood up and said “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”  I left the seat to find another and found an elderly lady who offered me the seat next to her.  She looked at me knowingly.  She too had had similar experiences.  

I wish I hadn’t gone down to the Lake by myself.   I was in shorts and on skates and it was a beautiful Sunday morning.  I stopped by the harbor and sat down to rest and watch the boaters heading out.  A young, clean cut man stopped and stood over me.  “I can see your pubes”, he said.  He reached for me.  I jumped up and skated away as fast as my skates would take me.  I was lucky he didn’t follow as I’m sure he would have caught up to me.  

I wish I hadn’t worn that halter top to the family reunion.  It was tight around my young breasts and exposed my midriff and my entire back.  My Mom’s cousin, Dan who had two daughters of his own looked at me and shook his head.  “You girls,” he said, “you advertise and then you get angry when the ad is answered.”  All of the sudden I felt naked and ashamed.  

I wish I could walk down streets in the city at night that have tall bushes along the route and didn’t have to cross the street if a large man was coming toward me on my side of the street. I wish I felt safe traveling alone and that traveling alone across America or to other countries was an option for me.   I wish I didn’t have to choose so carefully who I stand or sit next to on public transportation. I wish I didn’t have to be so nervous when circumstances force me to take help from a stranger. I wish I didn’t always have to make sure I have my keys in my hand when I approach my car and that I didn’t have to look in the back seat before I get in. I wish I didn’t have to avoid parking next to vans and didn’t have to park as close to the elevator as possible in a parking garage. I wish I didn’t have to choose so carefully what I wear when I go out and I didn’t have to keep a baseball bat under my bed. I wish I felt safe hiking alone, and it wouldn’t scare me so much when I get a flat tire or have car trouble out in the middle of nowhere.  It’s not that I can’t take care of myself but as a woman I have always felt vulnerable and have always taken measures to feel as safe as I can to the point where they are instinctive.  Jon, my husband, is six foot two.  For a long time he has never felt vulnerable. One day shortly after we had our first son he said to me, “Knowing that harm could come to our son makes me feel vulnerable for the first time in my life.  I don’t like the feeling.” 

“Welcome to every woman’s world” I said.