Unsolved Mysteries of My Life

The summer before I left for NYC to start college, I was heartbroken from my break up with my very first love and stumbled upon a guy I thought would be “safe.” By "stumbled," I actually mean we met at a sub shop and by “safe,” I actually mean devious villain (a fact I did not know at the time). This so-called Safe Guy was kind of nerdy; tall and thin and a bit lanky. He spoke in complete sentences, lived with his grandmother and sister, and drove a nice, safe, Honda Accord. He was never going to rock my world like David had, or hurt me or break my heart; I was sure of it. So I figured I may as well have some fun dating a Safe Guy until it was time to head up north and begin my new life. This mistake—oh, and it was a mistake—almost cost me my life. Literally.

I worked at the sub shop where we met during the summer to save up some money for NYC, which was SUPER expensive, by the way. Safe Guy was sweet and kind and when he asked me to have coffee with him, I accepted. The next day, he came into the shop to pick me up for our date and brought me a dozen red roses. I loved roses, classic, traditional, classy and beautiful. I thought highly of red roses and considered them a sign of romance. Now, almost 15 years later, I cringe at the sight of them and consider them the devil’s flower. I prefer orchids, anyway.

I found it to be sweet and looked forward to our date. The date was very basic and safe. There’s that word again. Safe. But that was the lane I preferred to stay in at the time. We went for coffee, ended up at dinner, and then watched a movie. We talked about goals and dreams and our families and life. Easy going conversation with a Safe Guy. I was content. When he dropped me off at my door, I gave him a quick peck and went inside to forget about the events of the evening and plan my future. Things were simple with Safe Guy and I liked it. I could go on a date with him and forget about it by the time I went to bed. No sweaty palms, worries about cheating, or being fat or eating too much. It was exactly what I needed.

At work the next day, a flower delivery came into the shop; it was a dozen red roses. I remember thinking, “Okay, this is a bit much.” I called and thanked Safe Guy and he asked if he could pick me up this weekend and I agreed. Easy. Simple. However, between Wednesday and Saturday I received four more deliveries of a dozen red roses. My boss was not too pleased by this and to be honest, neither was I. There is such a thing as overkill. I was being overly killed by red roses and I wasn’t all too impressed by this constant display of… what is it? Affection? It has been one date and no sex. How is he entirely smitten enough to send me so many roses? I should have turned for the hills right then and there. I didn’t because one thing was on my mind; safe.

A few weeks and several dozen roses had gone by and we had decided to spend the night together. He was simple and boring and we had nothing in common. I was not in jeopardy of catching any kind of feelings and was excited and anxiously awaiting the day I could pack up and head to New York. His grandmother was spending time out of town for something or another and we had the house to ourselves with the exception of his older sister, who was planning to have some friends over and Safe Guy told me we wouldn’t be bothered and could do whatever we wanted. That was code for sex. Even in Safe Guy speak. The sex was much like the relationship. Basic and easy. Safe. Thankfully, I had learned plenty during my relationship with David and I knew how to get off in any sexual situation. After the basic sex, we took a shower and watched some home videos (oh sure, I will watch your graduation video with you, sounds like fun). Blah.

I needed a drink (and an excuse to get away for a minute) and offered to grab us something from the kitchen. When I walked around the corner, I saw a group of college-aged kids sitting around drinking, laughing, and having a good time. Damnit! Why am I watching the most boring graduation and having subpar sex while the fun is out here? I figured, Safe Guy wouldn’t mind if I hung out for a bit. So I asked if I could join in and sat down and was handed a beer and started chatting up a girl on summer vacation from NYU.

I don’t know how much time had passed, but I was having a good time and completely forgot about Safe Guy in the other room. His sister scooted over to me and told me I was too good for him and that I should probably get back because I didn’t want to make him angry. I asked what she meant, but she scooted away quickly. Suddenly, the power went out and we were sitting in the dark. Everyone scrambled for a lighter to find our way around and next I knew, I was yanked into the darkness.

“We’re leaving” he said in a sinister voice.

“I don’t want to leave” I replied. “I’m having fun.”

I didn’t understand why he was so upset. He could have sat down and joined us. It wouldn’t have killed him to have a little fun. I was being led out the front door by my arm and down the driveway to his safe Honda Accord.

“Jesus, what is the problem?” I was irritated about the whole situation. “Fine, just take me home.” I put on my seatbelt, crossed my arms, and turned on the radio as loud as I could stand.

I realized when we passed my exit that he wasn’t taking me home. “Uh, that was the exit. Where are we going? I just want to go home. Take me home, please.”

He was silent. Eerily silent. He didn’t even flinch at the 100 questions that came after. He didn’t respond; he didn’t look at me; it was like I wasn’t even there. I was getting nervous thinking about what his sister had said. I was beginning to think that Safe Guy wasn’t as safe as he seemed. A half hour and several miles from my exit, we finally pulled off the highway in an area I wasn’t too familiar with. It was mainly industrial with buildings and factories and train tracks everywhere. He pulled down a dark road and headed for a set of train tracks in the distance. I tried again, “Where are we going? What are you doing?” Silence.

He parked and stepped out of the car; as I reached for the handle, I heard the electronic locks click. I manually unlocked it and he was at my door pushing it shut on me as I was trying to open it. I was now scared. I didn’t understand what was happening. He opened the back door and reached toward the backseat for something. I looked back to see what it was, and it was a sword like the ones hanging in his room. Katana swords, I believe he called them. What the hell is he doing? I upgraded to absolutely fucking terrified. I knew I had to diffuse this or I would end up on Unsolved Mysteries. He brought me out here to hurt me or worse. Safe Guy was nuts. He reached to open my door with sword in hand and I mouthed, “I’m sorry.” He stepped back and I heard him through the window say, “Sorry for what?” I asked him to sit and talk to me. I wanted to explain. It was time to use the skills I learned in Drama class.

He opened the trunk, closed the trunk, and walked around and took a seat in the driver’s seat. The sword was gone. I could only figure he put it in the trunk for the time being. “Baby,” I started, “I am really sorry I went to hang out with your sister and left you in the room. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just, after we made love today I got scared.” I was bullshitting through my teeth.

“Scared of what?” he asked, coldly.

“Scared that I am falling for you. My last boyfriend broke my heart and I am afraid that you will do the same. Because I love you so much.” Queue the real tears of fear but fake tears of love. “I just needed a minute to get out of my head, and they invited me to sit down and hang out. I needed to stop worrying that you would hurt me and not love me like I love you.”

He turned to look at me for the first time in almost an hour and said, “But I do love you. So much, Victoria. Like, more than you know. I would do anything for you. And today when you took my virginity, I knew it was the best it could ever be. You made me feel more in 15 minutes than I have felt my whole miserable life. I love you so damn much. I wanted to hurt you for hurting me.” My fingers and toes were shaking out of fear. Virginity? Hold the phone. I didn’t realize I was thrusting him into manhood; he never told me. Great, I fuck a virgin and he tries to kill me. My luck. So much for fucking safe!

I promised him everything under the sun, from my hand in marriage to mothering a child for him, anything I could to make him take me home. I was getting away with my life by an inch. I closed my eyes, crawled onto his lap, and kissed him like I was kissing Brad Pitt. I gave it all I had to sell it. When I released his lips, he looked at me and said, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I love you. I’m sorry.”

I sat back in my seat, put on my seatbelt, and told him I’d like to go home because I embarrassed myself. Thankfully, he agreed and dropped me off at my front door. When he pulled away, I ran inside and told my mother everything, sobbing and slobbering all over her shoulder as she dialed 911. I had never been so happy to be alive. I was sure I was a goner that night.

I packed up and left for my brother’s house in Maine the next day to finish out the summer before college. As for Safe Guy, well, he ended up with a criminal record and a free stay in prison for two years. I received an email from him when he was released threatening to make my life hell and blah, blah, blah. I had a standing restraining order against him and I was safely put several states away, where he couldn’t find me. I realized the hard way that dating the “safe guy” isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.