SAFETY IN NUMBERS 

In my second year out of high school, I met a young man at a restaurant–my girlfriends advised me to meet him somewhere public on the first date.

“Always park the car near the windows so you can see it,” my other friend advised me.

He was there, seated in a booth, ordered the food without asking me, and when I sat down, and realized the order was not anything I could eat, I raised my hand to get the waiter’s attention, and he grabbed my wrist, tightly, and said,

“NO! Let me do it!”

When the waiter left the table to fix the problem, I excused myself to go to the restroom.  I called my friend from the phone booth in the hallway and waited outside near the dumpster until she and her father arrived.  I pressed my cheek against the vinyl seat of the back seat of her father’s car, just in case he saw me making my escape. 

A few blocks down the street, I heard sirens and worried they were coming after him, sitting in the booth waiting for me. I didn’t want to make a scene. I just wanted it to be over.

Immediately, days later, years later, and on this day, I will never regret fleeing that restaurant.  

The agreement was that, no matter what, if you need a friend, you can call me.  The agreement with that friend’s family was that, no matter what the circumstances, you can call us. The agreement with my girlfriends and her family was that safety lies in numbers. 

Maybe you can call a friend and tell her this today.

Maybe you can tell your daughter and her friends they can call for help at any time.