The Lucky One

At age 17, I knew what the word 'pedophile' meant. I considered myself book smart, mature for my age; I thought I knew how the world worked because I devoured information like it was needed fuel for my over active imagination and unlimited empathy. After graduating with high grades as a well liked but awkward teen, mainly unseen by those not in my close circle of family and friends, I was thirsty for knowledge and in need of a new era. When I actually got involved with a pedophile during my first year in university, though, the thought never really occurred that this man was pursuing me, not as a suitor but as a predator stalking their next meal. Dan was 42.

I honestly didn't think much about Max after our encounter. He was just a side-note to me in the big picture. Looking back, however, I start to wonder how big of a role he actually played. I was fresh out of high school and into the dorms of the U of L. I began frequenting online chat rooms reaching out for a connection. Max was my first date, my first kiss, and a big disappointment. We talked online for a few days before agreeing to meet up. In 2006 sending a picture was a bit of a chore: taking the picture on your camera, developing the pictures, then scanning it into the computer to send in an email was a pretty standard method so I think we had maybe sent 1 picture each to each other and had a vague idea what the other person looked like. Max, age 22, drove about 4 hours to come stay with me in my dorm room but no sooner had we started watching a movie together, he was back online talking to other people on his laptop. I was a bit hurt by his complete lack of interest but I also soon realized I wasn't attracted to him and found him hard to talk with in person. We shared my dorm bed that night and every time he tried to start a connection, touching my body grabbing me, I just rolled over, pretending to be asleep, unsure of my willingness to accept his advances and eventually he left me alone then left early the next morning to get back to his city in time for work. After the uncomfortable, but thankfully, uneventful blind date, he seemed eager to shake me loose as quick as possible. His solution to that was adding his older friend, Dan, to our online chat window the next day. My relationship with Dan started out OK, as far as conversation flowing smoothly, making each other laugh and mutual physical attraction is concerned. I hadn't been one to date during high school and had been teased relentlessly by the older boys because of my acne and shyness, so the idea of someone being genuinely interested in me was too enticing to walk away from. I saw him as an adventure, a middle finger to all the boys that teased me in junior high. He made me feel attractive, desirable even, for the first time in my life. At first it felt edgy and rebellious to be involved with an older man but it didn't take long for me to see his true selfish, explosive nature. Dan was more like a vulture; an opportunist. I'll never know if he was waiting for someone to prey on, and Max fed me to him, or were people like Max intentionally scouting out the vulnerable and dishing us out to men like Dan who I never would've naturally encountered? At the time of course, I didn't think as much into it as I have for the last 20 years. Dan and I spent the next few months talking online between my University classes and chatting intimately on the phone late into the night. Things got rocky when he came to visit me from two provinces away. He waited until I turned 18 before agreeing to come see me. We both knew it was wrong but that was part of the appeal. He arrived on the bus and we got a hotel room. It was there that I lost my virginity. I was denied the equally awkward but exciting, sparkly 'first time' that no teenage girl can forget; Though if I could, I would choose to forget that shortly afterwards, he punched me in the stomach as a primitive form of birth control.

It only got worse from there. His next unexpected move was grabbing my hand and hitting himself, causing a black eye. That was the first night he made me cry. I had never been yelled at and humiliated in such a terrifying and disgusting manor. It was also the start of people staring at us while we held hands in public and likely wondering what the deal was. I should've left it at that and broke things off once he went back home, but did I? Of course not. He made sure I couldn't. He wanted me in his life, to manipulate me and use me to get what he wanted, physically and financially. Being shy and sheltered my whole life, the loneliness of University was crushing and Dan was a murky oasis in a desolate emotional landscape. And so, instead of detaching myself from my newest nightmare, I eventually hopped on a greyhound bus and travelled across the country to start a life with him.

Looking back, I have to question his "dares". A game he played that started out with me turning my camera on facing the door, as he watched me leave my room in a tank top and panties on a fake mission to find my lost ring. I felt ridiculous yet empowered as another girl played it cool and helped me look for a few minutes in the common area. The game got a little more heavy, including encouraging me to take a cab to a local sex shop to buy a personal toy, then leading to one evening where he dared me to go to the local pub alone and order a drink. I did, and again, it felt good to get out of my shell but I also felt like a loser, drinking White Russians until I was done pretending to wait for my nonexistent friends. That night, after coming home buzzed and jumping on my computer to chat with Dan, he praised me for being brave and told me he liked that I was having more fun and letting loose at University. Now that I am older, I have learned of a technique called "grooming" and he was likely trying to get me more comfortable with going out by myself so that I wouldn't have so many doubts about moving to his province.

The dares soon took a dangerous turn; I was convinced to head to a local nightclub, a place I did not belong alone. Dan had insisted I go out when I told him I had always wanted to try playing billiards, and had dared me to dance with as many people as I could. I did enjoy dancing, but I was still shy and awkward with low self-esteem. So when a cute guy asked me to join him and some girls at their table, I agreed. Where I went wrong was consuming the drink he offered me. I will never know exactly what was in it, but I could consider myself roofied and that is a dangerous state to be in. As far as I can remember, I left with this guy (Wes?) and ended up on my knees, having sex behind a dumpster (call it rape, but I don't remember what I had felt at the time, or if I had the capacity to say 'no'). I just remember getting into a cab later that night with a pocketful of change.

Somehow I made it back to my university dorm, feeling extremely disappointed in myself. I kept to myself for a while after that until Dan told me I should 'perform' naked on web cam for a man that would pay me and with the money I made I could visit Dan. Naively, I performed, but, of course, I never personally got paid. This only happened a few times before I got fed up and terribly frustrated, to the point where one night I took a handful of cold medication while on webcam with Dan and slept for a solid 24 hours. I wanted him to feel the same pain he was causing me. As luck had it, I woke up the following night with only a brutal stomachache, and the extreme urge to urinate, but remarkably lived to tell the tale; Not that I ever told anyone.

I soon stopped going to class. I had really enjoyed my classes, but with 200 students in each one, nobody noticed I was gone. I was very stressed and eating very little food. My parents and dormmates grew concerned, causing me to pull away further. What did I have left at that point? I had Dan. Just as he had planned. So I got on a Greyhound bus and off I went to join him in Winnipeg, MB. With the money from my RESP, we could afford a modest room in a sleazy hotel where we spent our days consuming alcohol and cannabis, having sex, eating bologna sandwiches and exploring the city.

I knew I deserved better; I came from a good home. I simply accepted that this was what a relationship was and, unfortunately, for 3 months or so it was my normal. We eventually came across a For Rent sign one day and moved out of the hotel and into a small apartment in a building that was halfway to condemned and full of tenants on welfare with drug and alcohol problems. We lived off what money I had left and his disability check. Our landlord hired us under the table to help with his other rentals and some days we felt like a good team; Dan doing repairs in the rentals and I took care of the cleaning of suites after the tenants moved out. At that point we were treated to free cable TV and had spending money for our outings and entertainment. The landlord had initially asked about our relationship but seemed content with the fact I was 18 and on the outside it seemed to be a consensual relationship between 2 "adults" and ultimately didn't want to get too involved in our business. Every night was the same; Either heading out to the local bars and going drink for drink with a man three times my size, miraculously making it back to the apartment in one piece, maybe catching a hockey game or other event with Dan's Sister, or staying home, to spend several hours watching porn, and then have intercourse so late into the night I was practically asleep. Some nights, when all I wanted to do was fall asleep, it was then that Dan would pick a fight and insist on yelling at me for hours. Eventually we would find common ground and fall sleep together on our lumpy living room futon.

Why am I lucky? He never forced himself on me that I can recall and I tried a lot of new sexual things, but if I really didn't want to try something he would stop. Several of his close friends were former Hell's Angels, one even telling me he had daughters my age, so I got the sense they had my back while we were out drinking and playing pool at the bars. At home, I was walking on eggshells though; One wrong action or phrase would lead to me getting pushed around, whatever drink was in his hand would be thrown on me, and there would be hours of yelling and arguing followed by an overwhelming sense of being trapped, hopeless, and forgotten. Then somehow we were in love again, in each other's arms, leaving me relieved but confused as to how someone that was supposed to love you could be so cold and manipulative.

I wanted to reach out, but fear was keeping me in this dizzying nightmare. I was shy, but stubborn and rebellious all at once. Then, luck came my way again in the form of a little tuxedo kitten named 'Boots.' It made me feel at home, having a pet, and lucky enough for her, Dan never hurt her like he hurt me, (I wouldn't have allowed it). Boots brightened my life in the dirty old apartment. Even living as a domestic prostitute, we had our fun. My favorite place to spend time with Dan was The Forks. It had a park, walking trails, and a market where we hung out at least a few times a week to browse the shops, and attend pow -wows. We explored the city and fed the ducks by day, then posted racy pictures online and partook in kinky acts by night.

The day things got weird was when my parents found us, after hiring a private investigator to follow us around the city, and showed up on our doorstep. I could've gone home with them, but Dan tried to have me thinking they had made it clear they didn't want me back. I knew he was lying when he said my dad had called me stupid. It's not my parents' fault. They were there when I needed them, but perhaps they knew if they forced me home, it would only make me want him more.

And so I stayed a few months longer, until one day I got punched in the nose. As I was crouched down, on my hands and knees, crying on the floor, as I too often had over the past months, I knew this wasn't what I wanted for myself. We fought all night, both our faces red from anger and tears. I clearly recall standing on the futon in my underwear, calling home on my cellphone; My lifeline. Despite Dan clawing at me and yelling in my ear, I managed to tell my mom that I needed to come home. My dad booked me a hotel room for the night and sent a cab to our apartment. I didn't tell Dan where I was going. I hated having to leave Boots at the apartment, but I knew I shouldn't stay there. That could have been the night my luck ran out; If Dan's bi-polar personality reached an all time low, knowing he was about to lose his prize, it could have been bad news for me.

My Dad arrived the next morning and took me to get my clothing and my cat. Dan's brother-in-law was there as a buffer, as I gathered my things and gave one last private goodbye hug to Dan in the tiny room that had served as his computer room and a place to keep our clothing. Then just like that, I took my life back from this predator that had fooled me for too long. Once Boots and I returned to my childhood home, he tried calling, of course, but I was done with that part of my life and I think he knew it was no longer worth his time and energy. I blocked him from all social media and have not heard from him since 2008.

If you are at all in control of your life, give yourself a chance at something better. A narcissist may try to convince you nobody cares but them, and they may offer you something you think nobody else can give you, but nobody is worth the pain and degradation suffered by young girls at the hands of a sexual predator. The fact I was 18 and it was therefore legal, made me nearly invisible to those who could've helped. Turning 18 did not make me less naïve or vulnerable, it just made it "OK". I realize now, not many are as lucky as I was to have the chance, or the support system, that made it possible for me to make it home with only a sore nose, a few hidden bruises and some long lost dignity. Too many young girls fall victim and are beaten, raped, trafficked to other pedophiles, and recorded doing heinous acts as leverage for money and control. That's if they haven't been savagely murdered. If you can get out, do it. Take the chance; It might be your last one. If you can't, keep trying. If you think someone is in danger, get them alone to talk in a safe environment or reach out low key to be a lifeline when the victim has almost given up all hope.