Not a Call Girl

A few years after my divorce, not being able to find a date, I joined a well-known dating service. One of the guys who picked me to ask out was a Lutheran pastor. The fact that he was middle aged and had never been married was a yellow flag to me, but I thought, well, he's a pastor, it should be ok. Wrong. We went to see a well-known evening outdoor drama in another city. I was really into the play, when all of a sudden, his hand slithered right up the inside of my thigh (I was wearing a sheath dress) and his fingers tapped the crotch of my panties like a drum. I had just met the man and I was so grossed out. I spent the rest of the evening fighting him off and trying not to make a scene. Since there was no one else around I knew, I had to ride with him back to my car. He played tapes of himself singing love songs all the way back to my car. When we finally reached it, I had to wrestle with him, and he was a lot bigger than me, to escape him and get into my car. Even when I got into my car, he was hanging onto me and half his body was inside my car rubbing and kissing me. He didn't back off until I pulled the door sharply shut on him, which made him jump and straighten up out of my car. When he did that, I slammed the door shut and took off. I looked up his chapel in the phone book and called it the next day to find if he really did work there. I was connected to his voice mail and it was really his voice. He called me incessantly for the next several days, leaving messages with multiple names of endearment; until he finally figured out I wasn't answering his calls because I didn't want to talk to him. I was very offended that he apparently considered me a call girl because he found me through a dating service.

— Hillary, 33

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