\u201cYou can trust me,\u201d he told her. When she responded that she did not feel comfortable going to a complete stranger\u2019s home for dinner, he said, \u201cI\u2019m not a stranger! I have a professional job and life! I\u2019m old enough not to mess around.\u201d <\/p>\n
The same day, The New York Times published an article<\/a> about a woman who had been held prisoner in an attic in a Boston rental home and sexually abused for six weeks. She met her assailant on a dating app.<\/p>\n Men like the one in that Instagram exchange often seem completely oblivious to women\u2019s lived experience with the ever-present threat of danger or violence, and to the hundreds of small and large precautions we exercise daily to attempt to stay safe in the world. <\/p>\n His biggest concern was paying for an expensive date and not getting a text back afterward. The woman was concerned for her safety. <\/p>\n I\u2019d like every man, including the stranger I offended by not returning his hello, to understand this: When a man goes on a date with a woman he doesn\u2019t know, he risks a bruised ego or being out a few bucks. When a woman goes on a date with a man she doesn\u2019t know, she risks her life.<\/p>\n These risks are not equivalent.<\/p>\n Long before dating apps, I had two close calls with men I didn\u2019t know. These incidents shaped how I interact with male strangers.<\/p>\n Photo Courtesy Of Melissa Lutz Blouin<\/p>\n The first was during a cloudy afternoon walk in the sleepy London suburb of Dulwich. I was 16 and enjoying the solitude of a tree-lined street when a friendly-looking man rolled down the backseat window of his car and waved me over. I drew closer to hear him asking me for directions. <\/p>\n Suddenly, the front door opened and two male hands grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the passenger seat. I screamed, I struggled and yelled. Two people appeared around a corner and ran toward us. The hands released me and the car raced away, the door closing as they turned the corner. I collapsed on the sidewalk, sobbing.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you hurt?\u201d the strangers asked. \u201cDo you need anything?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d I replied, standing up and shaking myself off, before walking briskly toward home.<\/p>\n I never told anyone what had happened. I blamed myself for being stupid enough to get that close to a strange man\u2019s car.<\/p>\n The second time was during an afternoon walk in the kind of New Orleans neighborhood where grandmothers fanned themselves on front porches while watching small children play. I had taken a short break from work in the afternoon to walk to a nearby drugstore.<\/p>\n I turned a corner onto a peaceful, empty street. Midway down the road, a white van sidled up next to me. The driver gestured wildly, trying to communicate something to me. <\/p>\n The hairs on my arms tingled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that someone was looming right behind me, hand in his sweatshirt pocket.<\/p>\n Run to the van or face the stranger behind me? My lizard brain clocked the van\u2019s baby seat, saw the hood pulled over the stranger\u2019s head on a warm April day.<\/p>\n I flew into the street, opened the van door, jumped inside and slammed it closed. The hooded man fled. I hunched over, gasping for air.<\/p>\n When the man beside me spoke, his voice was strangled: \u201cHe had a knife.\u201d<\/p>\n Photo Courtesy Of Melissa Lutz Blouin<\/p>\n These incidents happened in big cities, but it can happen anywhere, to any woman. I grew up in Pullman, Washington, a town of about 20,000 people. In 1979, a beloved dance instructor, Nona Rae Lynch, was struck in the head and strangled by a man<\/a> who entered her studio while she was working late one night. Her body was discovered the next day in the trunk of his car.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve learned from these experiences that men with ill intent don\u2019t come with identifying T-shirts or sinister black ski masks. They look like everyone else. And for women, potential danger is everywhere, including on a sleepy afternoon in a \u201cnice\u201d neighborhood, or in your own dance studio.<\/p>\n Women: Continue to do what you must to stay safe. If a man you meet on a dating site (or anywhere else) becomes upset that you are taking precautions to protect yourself, then you\u2019ve learned everything you need to know. And trusting your instincts could save your life. <\/p>\n Men, you have a simpler assignment: Support women by acknowledging their reality and agreeing cheerfully to whatever they need to feel comfortable. <\/p>\n More than a year later, I still replay the interaction with the man at the dark, rainy intersection. From the tone of his voice as he called after me, I imagined he was thinking, \u201cWould it kill you to be friendly?\u201d<\/p>\n As I fled, I was thinking: \u201cYes. Yes it could.\u201d<\/p>\n Melissa Lutz Blouin\u2019s writing has appeared in The Seattle Times and The Mountaineer Magazine. When she\u2019s not outdoors or winning pun slams, she\u2019s working on her memoir about resilience and mental health. See more of her work at MelissaLutzBlouin.com<\/a>.<\/p>\n Do you have a compelling personal story you\u2019d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we\u2019re looking for here<\/a> and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com.<\/a><\/p>\n![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/6ad0453c270000b698989ac6.jpeg\")
The author at 16 at Covent Garden in London.<\/p>\n![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/6ad045d1270000ca98989ac8.jpeg\")
The author at 21 on Bourbon Street in New Orleans shortly after she moved to the city for graduate school.<\/p>\n