Three and a Half Weeks Ago

WARNING! Rated somewhere between PG-13 and R for violence and language.

I went out for drinks with Mere and Doug in Astoria after work. We started at Bar 36 but quickly moved on to a much better spot called the Brick Cafe. We talked and laughed, drank some beer and had a great time. Doug walked me to my train and Mere and I decided to time how long it took for us to each get home. She was walking quite a few blocks to her apartment and once I got off the train two stops away, I had a walk. It was about 3:15am when I got off the train and started my 15 minute walk home. I texted Mere that it had taken me only 20 minutes from the time we left the bar to my stop- I was super excited that the train came right away at that time in the morning. She had just gotten home. I knew she'd make it before me. As I walked down the garden pathway to my apartment and turned left toward my doorway, I reached into my bag to get my keys. I opened the first unlocked doorway and thought, "Yay, it's Friday! My Time magazine will be in the mailbox." As I was thinking this and looking at the mailboxes, I saw out of the corner of my eye, a man run up the three stairs to my entryway and open the door. He had no keys in his hand. I said, "You need to ring a buzzer, I'm not letting you in the building." I opened my mailbox, got out my magazine and saw that he had gotten out his phone- a Sidekick. I thought, "Well, he's making an effort." I turned my back to him and he reached around me with his right arm and grabbed me. This spun me around with a ferocity I wasn't aware I had. As I turned I elbowed him in the stomach and said, "You have got to be fucking kidding me." He said (and this was the only time he spoke), "All I want is just your... " (I put the ellipsis here, not for emphasis, but because my adrenaline was so pumped up that I can't really figure out what he said. I initially thought he said shoes, but there was no way that's what he wanted, I was wearing $7 ballet slipper type shoes from Payless). I had started kicking him and punching him and he grabbed both my wrists while I yelled and said just about every swear word I could think of at him. I looked to my right and saw the buzzers for all the apartments. I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I'll fucking ring every god damn buzzer in this building." I saw that my elbow was close enough to the buzzers that if I could just lean on them I would ring them all. I lunged toward the wall, but he pulled me away. It was at this moment when I stopped thinking and started screaming HELP at the top of my voice. He freaked out, let me go and ran out the door. I opened the door and screamed out at him, "Fuck you, you Mother Fucker!" I was so angry and scared, I didn't know what to do. I thought, "Where are my keys?" I looked on the floor, I grabbed at my purse and dug through it and then freaked out. I started crying hysterically because I realized without my keys I couldn't get safe. I thought he stole them. I was still in that tiny room unprotected and crumbled up in the corner crying. I dialed Meredith. She picked up and at first thought I was laughing. After I gasped through the story she told me to ring my land lady's bell. I did and as I turned toward the door I saw that I must have put my keys in the door just before he grabbed me. I ran upstairs, hung up with Mere and dialed 911. I had to recount the story to the dispatcher, then when the police arrived (less than five minutes later) I had to recount the story again. They took the description- young (less than 25, I'd put him at 21), 5' 9", Hispanic, light brown skin, blue jeans, white shirt and red baseball cap- pretty non-descript clothing. They said they would look around, but it had been at least 15 minutes since it had happened. They didn't come back. Meredith had gotten in a taxi and was there shortly after. I recounted the story to her and we tried to go to sleep. Needless to say I couldn't sleep and my tossing and turning wasn't helping her at all, plus it was the hottest night of the summer. She left in the morning after OB called when he saw all my missed calls and text messages. He came over right then to get me. He let me cry on his shoulder and then put me to bed at his apartment with the air conditioning on while he made me soup. I had bought tickets for us to see A Catered Affair that night, so he let me sleep (still not great sleep) until about 530 and then we ate our wonderful soup and went to the show. It wasn't the best show in the world, but we had a good time and then we headed to one of my favorite bars in midtown- Kemia Bar and we had such a fabulous time I was able to let go and forget about everything. It was the wonderful ending to a horrible day. After filing a report with the police department I was contacted by a Detective who informed me that the incident was considered "harassment"- a misdemeanor. This is for several reasons, but mostly because I fought him off and I wasn't hurt. I was also informed that I could look at mug shots, but that there would be over a thousand from my precinct and the two closest precincts using my description of him. I let it go. I only told my mom and left it to her to tell other people in my family because I was over telling it and I didn't want people to make a big fuss. That's why I never wrote about it and I think why I've had such a hard time writing the last few weeks. This incident consumes my thoughts on my walk home (less and less as the days go by, though) and so when I sit in front of the computer I can't write. I'm kind of tired of it, really. I figured writing it out might help and it might let women know they have the power to fight back. I knew I was a fighter, but I wasn't aware that I would act so instinctively. The only thing I ask of you all reading this is, if you comment, please do not talk about "what-ifs" and "might have beens." It's hard enough the way it actually happened, I don't need help imagining what could have happened. It has made me more aware of my surroundings and so, unfortunately, has taken away the time I had enjoyed with myself and my thoughts on my walk home. The first few times coming home were tough, but it's gotten easier. I'm not sleeping well, but my stress has always come out when I sleep. Hopefully that will ease over time too. And, please, no pity. I'm fine, if there is anyone to worry about, it's the boy who did this. I wonder about him a lot- what kind of life he might have if at such a young age he's doing what he did to me? Hopefully, whatever this was was the first time he had ever done anything like it and he took the hint that he's not very good at it. You can't target a girl in a super cute dress at 330 in the morning just because you think she won't fight back. But, thanks to him I got a reminder to never be the girl in the super cute dress coming home drunk because I wouldn't have done so well.