A quick reminder for men: Common events for you can turn into really scary situations for women in a snap.



Case in point: This week I listed a clothes dryer on the Letgo app. Because it was a dryer, a neutral meeting location was impractical. I needed it taken out of my house.

To try to stay safe, I decided to only allow people to pick it up after 5 when my husband would be home. But a guy who works nights asked if he could come in the am instead; I said yes as long as you're here before husband leaves for work.

The next morning, buyer isn't here before husband leaves. I message and tell him not to come. He shows up 15 min later. In addition to being late, he has no dolly or help, despite the ad saying the dryer was in a basement & you'd have to remove yourself.

He says he will come back with help, I say after 5 would be great. He then asks if he could just see it real quick before coming back and bringing someone over, in case he doesn't want it. So, now I have a decision to make.

I quickly try to assess my likelihood of danger, as every woman has done so, so many times. It's instinct. First, what's his age? Late 60s, early 70s. He's tall but thin. Wearing a wedding ring. Hasn't smiled at me strangely or looked at me for too long. I make a judgment call.

Feeling like he's more likely to be safe than unsafe, and feeling badly about not letting him see the dryer, I invite him in. Once in the basement, he's POSITIVE he can get it out with just a LITTLE help he says, looking at me.

Fuck it. I pick up a side.

Walk to the stairs is fine. We're sharing the work. With each stair, I'm feeling more and more of the weight. I'm sweating. Heaving. Pissed. Halfway up the stairs and it feels like he's doing NOTHING.

And then I see it. The look on his face.

He's staring at me, hard. Right in the eyes, sly smile on his lips. My hair is matted to my forehead. I can't get a comfortable grip. I'm just about to ask him what's going on - is he even lifting? - when he starts to speak.

"Damn, girl. Look at you. Man, those thighs. Put em to work, huh? That sweat looks good on you. Workin thighs like that, I bet your husband is a happy man. C'mon, show me what you got." I was mortified. And I'm realizing I can't get out. He & a dryer I'm lifting are blocking me.

So I do what women do, lower my eyes, pretend to laugh a little, start lifting faster. The comments and staring hey worse but I try to block them out. As soon as I am free of the basement I walk straight past him to my phone, wait 5 seconds, and say, "honey, the buyer is here!"

And wanna guess what happened? He left without buying it. Was this guy going murder me? Probably not. But I'm not sure. Am I pissed I had to worry about being murdered in my own home because grandpa creeper likes sweaty women? Yeah. Fucker.

The point - other than my being pissed and wanting to tell people - is that events like this, even when we come out ok, take an emotional toll. I was scared. He left more and more of the weight on me & watched me squirm. And now I have one more "thing" that I have to worry about.

So men, if you want to be allies, then recognizing that assault is bad is just the minimum. For every sexual assault, there are thousands of events that don't lead to violence but which scare the shit out of us, especially after our "assessment" turns out to have been wrong.

And obviously, if you ever are in a woman's home alone, whether during a service call or an online sale like this, accept if she's home alone, she's likely done the assessment. Respect her space, don't do gross shit. The basics. Please.

UPDATE: This man just showed up at my house. It's 10pm. Husband answered doorbell, drunk guy mumbles "wrong house" & goes back to his truck. I looked out the window and saw it was him. Tomorrow I'll be here alone with my 4yo while my husband is at work. Terrified in my own house.

UPDATE 2: called the police, they were VERY helpful & said I'm in a great spot for rotating cars to sit outside as much as they can tomorrow. Going to see about taking my little one & spending the day at a friend's house tomorrow just in case. Thank you to everyone for support.

A final comment about this: when I was stuck on the steps with that dryer & he was saying that disgusting shit, I just wanted to escape. I was scared but was calculating how to get out of the situation. Later, as I typed up this story, my fear had given way to rage & disgust.

And then tonight, when he came back, any fantasies I may have harbored earlier while I was typing this story about telling him to fuck off, leave me alone, etc - ALL of those disappeared immediately. I saw him and felt nothing but terror. This wasn't a man who'd physically hurt

me. He didn't rape me. Never even touched n me, in fact. He just said gross shit as I struggled with a heavy appliance. Not that it was nothing, but in the grand scheme of things, my experience was nothing compared to the evil shit people do to each other every day. And yet what

I felt when I saw him tonight was nothing short of terror. I will never, ever, be one of those movie heroines who seeks revenge and stands up for herself to teach the bad guy a lesson. I'm the girl who starts crying & shaking so badly she can't say the words "that's him" clearly

And if I'm being honest, I'm ashamed of that. For all my marching and fist-waving and dreams about screaming at bastards like Kavenaugh in some restaurant one day, the truth is that in the moment, I crumbled. I cried when I typed this update & when I called the police.

The rage that I felt earlier when I told this story hay not have been productive, but it felt good. I enjoyed thinking that this rage would protect & strengthen me if this ever happened again. But then when he showed up, that rage turned to mist. Nothing had changed in me. There

was no newfound bravery or empowerment, no matter how much I wanted it to be so. And that's ok. I know it is ok to be scared. But I could've lived without having my fantasy disproven so quickly. It was warm & made me feel good about myself, and I'll miss it. So, attention you

asshole from letgo. It wasn't enough that you said those things & trapped me in my house & scared me & that my back is killing me now from holding that thing & moving it so fast. It wasn't enough that I'd never felt scared on my house before you showed up here tonight. On top of

all of that, you also took from me any hope that I would be one of those women who could turn fear to strength. I'm not one. But I would've liked to believe I was, & you took that from me, too. And damn it, fuck you for that, whoever you are. Just please, please don't come back.

NEXT DAY UPDATE: To all of the men on here pointing out what I did wrong to bring this on myself, please know I am taking articulate notes with your suggestions and cannot wait to follow your instructions and enjoy my new life of extreme safety

Also, lots more was said/done during the event that was utterly disgusting that I didn't discuss in detail here in order to avoid triggering others. Because that is yet another thing that women do instinctively to protect themselves and one another.

To the men who have reached out and told me they're listening to their wives & believing that this happens to them EVERY DAY - your stories warm my heart. And to the male allies on here standing up to other men while also seeking to improve yourselves - I fucking see and love you

You can follow @tragedythyme.

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