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The Lucky One

When 'Pedophile' is simply a Word.. Until you date one.

By Alycen SparrowPublished 3 years ago 10 min read
'Boots' in our Winnipeg, MB apartment.

At age 18, I knew what the word 'pedophile' meant. I considered myself book smart, mature for my age. When I actually met one during my first year in university though, the thought never occurred that this man was pursuing me mainly because of how much younger I was than he. He was 42.

It started with Max; I was fresh out of high school and into the dorms of the U of L. I began frequenting online chat rooms reaching out for a connection. Max was my first date, my first kiss, and my first disappointment. He drove about 4 hours to come stay with me in my dorm room but no sooner had we started watching a movie, he was back online talking to other people. It hurt knowing he wasn't interested in me, though I wasn't that thrilled about him either so that night every time he tried to start a connection I wanted nothing to do with, I would just roll over and eventually he left me alone and left early the next morning. After the uncomfortable, but thankfully, uneventful blind date, he surely wanted to get rid of me as quick as possible. His solution to that was adding his older friend, Dan, to our online chat window the next day. My relationship with Dan started out OK, as far as conversation flowing smoothly, making each other laugh and physical attraction is concerned. I hadn't been one to date during high school so the idea of someone being genuinely interested in me was too enticing to walk away from. I saw him as an adventure, a middle finger to my poor parents and all the boys that teased me in junior high. He made me feel attractive, desirable even, for the first time in my life. At first I felt cool and rebellious but it didn't take long for me to see his true selfish, explosive nature. He was more like a vulture; an opportunist. I'll never know if he was waiting for someone to prey on, heck maybe Max was in on it. At the time of course, I didn't think as much into it as I have for the last 15 years. Dan and I spent the next few months talking online between classes and chatting on the phone late into the night. Things got rocky when he came to visit me from two provinces away. He waited until I turned 18 before agreeing to come see me. We both knew it was wrong but that was part of the appeal. I was denied the sparkly 'first time' that no girl can forget. If I could, I would forget that afterwards, he punched me in the stomach.

It only got worse from there. His next unexpected move was grabbing my hand and hitting himself, causing a black eye. That was the first night he made me cry. It was also the start of people stared at us wondering what the deal was. I should've left it at that and broke things off once he went back home, but did I? Of course not. He made sure I couldn't. Being shy my whole life, the loneliness of University was crushing and Dan was a murky oasis in a desolate emotional landscape. And so, instead of detaching myself from my newest nightmare, I hopped on a greyhound bus and travelled across the country to start a life with him.

Looking back, I have to question his "dares". A game we played that started out with me turning my camera on facing the door, as he watched me leave my room in a tank top and panties on a fake mission to find my ring. I felt ridiculous yet empowered as another girl played it cool and helped me look for a few minutes in the common area. The game got a little more heavy, including taking a cab to a local sex shop to buy a dildo, then leading to one evening where he dared me to go to the local pub alone and order a drink. I did, and again, it felt good to get out of my shell but I also felt like a loser, drinking White Russians until I was done pretending to wait for my nonexistent friends. That night, after coming home buzzed and jumping on my computer to chat with Dan, he praised me for being brave and told me he liked that I was having more fun and letting loose at University. Now that I am older, I have learned of a technique called "grooming" and he was likely trying to get me more comfortable with going out by myself so that I wouldn't have so many doubts about moving to his province.

The dares soon took a dangerous turn; This one happened at a local nightclub, a place I did not belong. Dan had insisted I go out when I told him I had always wanted to try playing pool, and dared me to dance with as many people as I could. I did enjoy dancing, but I was still shy and awkward with low self-esteem. So when a cute guy asked me to join him and some girls at their table, I agreed. Where I went wrong was consuming the drink he offered me. I will never know what was in it, but I could consider myself roofied and that is a dangerous state to be in. As far as I can remember, I left with this guy and ended up on my knees, having sex behind a dumpster (call it rape, but at the time I was unable to see this and did not say no). I remember getting into a cab later that night.

Somehow I made it back to my university dorm, feeling more stupid and disgusting than ever. I kept to myself for a while after that until Dan told me I should 'perform' naked on web cam for a man that would pay me and with the money I made I could come visit Dan. Naively, I performed, but, of course, I never got paid. This only happened a few times before I got fed up and terribly frustrated, to the point where one night I took a handful of cold medication and slept for a solid 24 hours. As luck had it, I woke up with a brutal stomachache, but lived to tell the tale. Not that I ever told anyone.

Soon I stopped going to class. I had really enjoyed my classes, but with 200 students in each one, nobody noticed I was gone. What did I have left at that point? I had Dan. Just as he had planned. So I got on a bus and off I went to join him in Winnipeg. With the money from my RESP, we could afford a modest room in a sleazy hotel where we spent our days smoking weed, having sex, eating bologna sandwiches and walking around the city.

I knew I deserved better; I came from a good home. I simply accepted that this was what a relationship was and, unfortunately, for 3 months or so it was my normal. We soon moved into a small apartment in a building that was halfway to condemned and full of shady tenants. We lived off what money I had left and his disability check. Every night was the same; A few hours of watching porn, maybe some drinks, and then having sex.

Why am I lucky? He never forced himself on me and I tried a lot of new sexual things, but if I really didn't want to try something he would stop; oddly enough I could set boundaries. Also, I realize now I could have been passed on to any of his greasy acquaintances for sex while he profited off of me. But he never did. Most of his close friends were former Hell's Angels and some had daughters my age, so I got the sense they had my back while we were out drinking and playing pool at the bars. At home, I was walking on eggshells though. One wrong action or phrase would lead to me getting pushed around, whatever drink was in his hand would be thrown on me, and there would be hours of yelling and crying.

I wanted to reach out, but to who? I was shy and rebellious all at once. Again, luck came my way in the form of a little tuxedo kitten named 'Boots.' It made me feel at home, having a pet, and lucky enough for her, Dan never hurt her like he hurt me (not that I would've allowed it to happen anyways). Boots brightened my life in the dirty old apartment. Though, even as a domestic prostitute, we had our fun. My favourite place was The Forks, with a park and a market where we hung out at least a few times a week. We explored the city and fed the ducks by day, then posted racy pictures online and partook in filthy sex acts by night and sometimes got wasted at a local bar off his welfare check.

The day things got weird was when my parents found us, after hiring a private investigator to follow us around the city, and showed up on our doorstep. I could've gone home with them, but he told me they had made it clear they didn't want me back. I knew he was lying when he said my dad had called me stupid. They were just being good parents. They were there when I needed them, but they knew if they forced me home, it would only make me want him more.

And so I stayed a few months longer, until one day I got punched in the nose. As I was crouched, down on my hands and knees, crying on the floor, as I too often had over the past months, I knew this wasn't what I wanted for myself. We fought all night, both our faces red from anger and tears. I clearly recall standing on the futon in my underwear, calling home. Despite him clawing at me and yelling in my ear, I managed to tell my mom that I needed to come home. My dad booked me a hotel room for the night. I didn't tell Dan where I was going. I hated having to leave Boots at the apartment, but I knew I just couldn't stay there. That could have been the night my luck ran out. If Dan's bi-polar personality reached an all time low, it would have been bad news for me.

My Dad arrived the next morning and came with me to get my clothing and my cat. Dan's brother-in-law was there as a buffer, while I gathered my things and gave one last private goodbye hug. Then just like that, I took my life back from this predator that had fooled me for too long. Once Boots and I returned home, he tried calling, of course, but I was done with his shit and I think he now knew it. I blocked him from all social media and have not heard from him in 15 years.

If you are at all in control of your life, give yourself a chance at something better. Nobody is worth the pain and degradation suffered by young girls at the hands of a sexual predator. Not many are as lucky as I was to have the choice, to have left with only a sore nose and some long lost dignity. Too many young girls fall victim and are beaten, raped, and trafficked to other low-life beings for a buck...and that's if they haven't been savagely murdered. If you can get out, do it. If you can't, keep trying.


About the Creator

Alycen Sparrow

{Strong like a mountain and sweet as a meadow} I love to write. Some things just need to be shared for one to truly come to terms with it. If it is always in your head, let it out!

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