#metoo

Yes, #metoo. I was 12 the first time it happened to me in the workplace. A volunteer candy striper at the local hospital. He was a middle-aged security guard.

If you want to know why girls don’t speak up about what happens to them, read my story. I blamed myself. I was embarrassed. Ashamed. Would people have believed me? Probably so. But I was mortified. I told nobody. Kept that secret for 30 years, until I casually mentioned it one day to my therapist.

I was one of the lucky ones. Even though he had no business taking me behind the building and kissing and groping me, he did stop when I said no. Well, after a few nos. It could have been so much worse.

But if you think for one minute that this didn’t affect me, you are wrong. Until that moment, I was a good girl. I did my homework and chores at home and volunteered at the hospital in my spare time. I didn’t deserve this.

But I never again felt like I was a good girl. I had done something really stupid. I felt like it was all my fault.

I didn’t want anyone to know.

My story – trigger warning

I was excited about being a candy striper. I had dreams of being a doctor one day, so this was the first thing I could do to be in the medical field.

My first assignment was waiting tables in the hospital snack bar. Not exactly assisting with surgery. But I cheerfully approached each shift, waiting on people whose loved ones were undergoing surgery or sick in the beds upstairs. None of my customers were happy.

I asked for a new assignment. I then found myself pushing a big cart up and down the halls, calling into patient rooms to see if they would like some candy, or slippers, or a comb. I counted out change, and sometimes got into long conversations with lonely patients.

That night, I finished my shift and sat in the main waiting room. Mom was attending night class at the nearby college, working on her Master’s degree in teaching. She would pick me up after class. Meanwhile, I had homework to do.

I hauled my books out of my bag and sat down on the plastic waiting room chair, tugging at my skirt to keep it from riding up too high. I was glad for the bodice on the candy striper uniform, because it covered the gap in my blouse beneath it that would show my bra.

Initial contact

As I was starting on my math homework, I noticed the security guard sitting behind the desk watching me. I smiled at him. He waved me over.

Ever the dutiful one, I walked up to his desk.

“Hey cutie, what are you up to?” he smiled at me as my cheeks flushed. I wasn’t used to being talked to like that. And he was kind of cute, for an old man. (He was probably in his thirties.)

“Uh, I’m doing homework,” I stammered.

“Yeah? Aren’t you done with school by now?” His blond mustache curled up and his blue eyes twinkled at me, then shifted downward. I crossed my arms across my chest.

“Noooo.”“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twelve.”

“No, that can’t be! You look so much older. I don’t believe you. You’ve got to be at least 18.”

My stylish new haircut must have tricked him. I knew it made me look older. I was so glad I learned how to operate that new blow dryer.

“Nope. I’m twelve.” I replied proudly. I beamed at him as he smiled back.

Flirting with danger

He continued flirting with me, as I tried on this new feeling of having a boy (a man!) interested in me.

“Who are you waiting for?” he asked.

“My mom. She’ll be here after her class gets out at 9.”

He looked at his watch. “Great. You have time then. Do you want to go see the morgue?”

The morgue! My throat tightened. But of course, if I wanted to be a doctor, I should definitely get that out of the way.

“Sure” I squeaked.

He saw my face, and decided on something else.

“I know. I can show you the new building they are putting up. It will be open soon, but I can get in. It’s really neat.” He jingled his keys.

That sounded better. No dead bodies.

“Okay.”

I stacked my books up on the chair and joined him at the front door, and we headed outside together. When he offered me his arm, I took it like the sophisticated woman I thought I was.

Just taking a walk...

We walked down the sidewalk, out and around the darkened building under construction. There were no streetlights as we walked down a ramp to the loading dock. I held tightly to his arm so I wouldn’t stumble – seeking protection in the wrong place.

We got to the bottom of the ramp and he turned toward me, pushing me up against the wall of the building. His face came down and suddenly he was kissing me, pushing hard against my mouth. His mustache was rough. His tongue snaked between my lips and I clamped my teeth shut, tasting the cigarettes on his breath.

No No No

“No!” I tried to say while keeping my teeth clamped tight. I struggled against his arms, which were now inside my bodice in the back, fumbling with my bra. I pushed away hard.

“No. I’m only twelve!” I pleaded with him. I couldn’t get away.

He tried to cajole me. “Come on. You’re so pretty.” He bent down to kiss me again.

“No. Please let’s just go back.” The whine in my voice was getting higher, as my throat closed off and I fought back tears. Mom would be so mad at me!

Finally, he listened. He tried to take my arm as we walked back, but I wouldn’t touch him. I was shaking all over.

Back in the waiting room, I took my books to the farthest corner from his desk, and sat. Trembling, and waiting for Mom. I ate 3 mints to try to get rid of the cigarette taste in my mouth. I wanted to vomit.

#metoo 7th grade Secrets

I can’t tell her. She would kill me for being so stupid! It’s my fault for listening to him. I’m such an idiot.

Was that my first kiss? Aw damn.