I was Donald Trumped
A couple of years ago before Covid-19 delayed the disappointment of crappy in person dates, I made the mistake of caving into peer pressure and downloaded the infamous app ‘Hinge’. Ironically, this occurred during a slightly unhinged evening with colleagues after work. Little did I know at the time, that night would forebode the quality (or lack thereof) of the disastrous date that would later take place from the match I had virtually made right there and then.
Slightly tipsy from a couple of raspberry Kopparberg’s I had drunk after 6 months without a drop of alcohol; I was strangely optimistic by the match Carol had made (my best friend at work despite a 40-year age gap) after rigorously swiping her fingers for what seemed like hours. This particular match, let’s call him Mick, had a vast spread of rather impressive photos. The first image personified ‘I know how to have fun’ with an enormous mid laugh grin. The rest featured some promising looking friends, appreciation of some gorgeous scenic views and a very friendly looking Jack Russel. Basically, none of the images screamed serial killer so I thought I was onto something!
I was immediately elated by the first message ‘Hey Efemena, how are you doing?’. You may think that this message was nothing to be excited about, but after the barrage of inappropriate messages involving fornication or the objectification of my body, this mundane message felt like a breath of fresh air. We were messaging back and forth for around a week, and I knew I was onto something good when company around me kept asking why I was smiling from ear to ear each time notifications from Mick lit up my phone. For some context, I had never been in a relationship at this point or made it to a second date, so this felt like exciting but unfamiliar territory. I loved the fact Mick worked in a conservation charity, volunteered with a local youth group, and absolutely loved animals. In my head this was tick, tick, tick and to make it even better, he had a really gorgeous smile. I felt like a had a good gage of his character and plucked up the courage and asked Mick for his number. I felt like a boss bitch, not only because it was the first time I’d asked someone for their number, but also because he admitted he was trying to find the right time to ask for mine and felt relieved that I took the plunge first.
The following evening Mick messaged asking what I was doing, to which I replied ‘Not much! Are you up to anything exciting?’. My heart immediately starting racing as my phone vibrated stating ‘Mick is calling’. Though I was comfortably dressed in my pj’s tucked in bed doing nothing other than eating way too many cookie shots and binging ‘My Mad Fat Diary’ on Channel 4, I wasn’t prepared to have my first phone call with Mick! I was overcome with anxiety wondering whether he’d still find me funny, hate my voice or if they’d be any awkward silences. I hesitatingly answered and was instantly warmed by a voice even more nervous than my own that sounded warm but surprisingly posh. I heard how much guts it took for Mick to call me and felt really at ease by how much time and effort he was putting in getting to know me, I had never experienced that feeling before. After a couple of hours of flirtatious digs, occasional butterflies, and uncontrollable lip bites on my end, we agreed to meet up the next day for drinks in the evening — our first date. I of course fantasised about the date in a romcom-esque fashion as Mick had organised to meet in South Bank, in my eyes one of the most romantic date spots in the whole of London. Though I was rather self-conscious at the time, I had picked out an outfit that I felt embodied self-love and confidence, a pair of slightly flared jeans and a white wrap top (with nipple covers to help with the allure).
Date Night
We met inside Waterloo Station underneath the giant clock. We locked eyes and found ourselves slowly drifting towards each other as if we were magnetic. ‘You look gorgeous’ Mick said with open arms inviting me into a warm hug. The weather was slightly spitting outside, but we didn’t seem to mind at all, if anything it added to the experience. We were walking so close our shoulders kept brushing each other’s. We sat down outside a makeshift bar that had wooden tables and stalls with an immaculate wall garden hiding us away from the rest of the world. Mick was making me laugh harder than we had laughed on the phone. He was telling me lots of hilarious stories about his childhood living with his mum, and adventurous trips with friends. In that moment I wanted so badly to meet them all and become a part of those stories. I could tell he was overthinking his body language. He kept almost reaching for my arm then backing out or placing his hand near my leg but not quite reaching it. Eventually after finding his awkwardness slightly unbearable, I reached out for his hand. A huge grin appeared on his face, and he even started blushing a bit. So far, this had been the most wholesome date experience I had, and I was really excited about where it was heading!
Whilst Mick had approached the bar to get us a couple of ciders, I had noticed a million messages from my housemate asking how the date was going. ‘What’s he like?’, ‘Are you alive?!’, ‘Do you need me to call you to save you from your date?’, ‘Where are you in case you’re kidnapped?!’. Smiling I responded ‘Hey Kelsey, nothing to worry about! He’s so lovely, we are getting on really well! I don’t think I’ll get kidnapped, but I am by South Bank if you’re wondering! Don’t wait up for me x’. Little did I know, I spoke too soon.
When we finished our drinks, Mick suggested we go for a little stroll along South Bank which I loved. It was around 8:30 at this point in Autumn so it was pretty dark, but our path was lit with festival lights and all the impressive tall buildings that were still awake. We were both taken back by the mass group of people who were putting on a show of fire along the sand. There were firebreathers, people juggling fire, walking through fire… whatever strange but fascinating activity you could do with fire, these people were doing it! It was so beautiful, so we rested along the rail looking down at their performance with a gathering crowd of people. Mick put his arm around me, and I leant in closer resting my head against his shoulder. It felt natural and comfortable, not forced at all. After a few minutes Mick asked me nervously whether he could kiss me. I loved the fact he asked, and honestly his company and his gorgeous freckles and inviting smile made me want to say yes, so I did. He leant in for a kiss and it was great. Not too much, but not too measly either, it was a lovely and polite first kiss. Clearly relieved he confessed ‘I haven’t kissed anyone in a really long time’. Prior to this point I hadn’t kissed anyone for a couple of years, so I completely understood how he felt. I mistakenly said, ‘it’s been quite a while for me too’. By the sudden surprised look on his face, it was evident he thought I was a lot more experienced in the world of dating than I was. His shy act shifted immediately as he took me forcefully by the hand, dragged me into the middle of the pavement where hundreds of people were walking and attacked my face with his tongue forcefully placing both hands at the back of my head pulling me aggressively towards him. Shocked and frankly quite horrified, I pushed him away. His face transformed. Instead of looking warm and friendly, he now looked domineering and honestly slightly predatory.
Feeling uncomfortable and also embarrassed and unsure what actually just happened, I walked back towards the fire show except this time further along the pier. Mick followed and held his space for a while. My closed off body language and facial expressions showed clear discomfort and to my shock he actually apologised for his behaviour. The patriarchy of the world had created excuses in the back of my head, ‘maybe he was really horny and didn’t know he was being too forward’, ‘maybe he’s really inexperienced’. What I didn’t consider in that moment is making he’s just a fucking dick who doesn’t respect women. After 5 minutes of watching the show and starting to feel more relaxed, horror strikes again. Out of nowhere, Mick slides his hands underneath my wrap top and tightly grabs my boobs attempting to find my nipples to play with. I can’t reiterate enough how unwarranted this behaviour was, just how many people were around us who looked mortified by his behaviour or how violated I felt in that moment. I was in utter shock, and he grabbed my boobs so hard they actually hurt. I ripped his hands off me and said ‘what the fuck do you think you’re doing?! That’s not cool!’. He had this look on his face that said, ‘calm down, you know you like it’. What is it with some men who think they are so irresistible that they can openly sexually assault women, and even in public?!
I told Mick in disgust that this date was absolutely over, that he overstepped completely, and I wanted nothing to do with him. I turned around and walked off as quickly as I could. At this point he didn’t take my actions or words seriously and proceeded to run after me ‘where are you going?’, ‘Efemena come back, give me a kiss’, ‘your ass looks good when you’re pretending to walk away from me’. I just couldn’t believe he didn’t get it, and that he was still insisting I remained in his company for the remainder of the evening. A couple of times he even tried to grab my wrist and drag me into alley ways. What the fuck did he expect me to do, fuck him in the middle of South Bank?! Horrified, I told him to fuck off and actually began to walk so fast I was basically jogging. I naively thought I’d lost him, until I saw him running beside me in my peripheral vision. He actually ran up beside me, swung his right arm forward, and then swung it back, and grabbed me by the pussy.
HE GRABBED ME BY THE PUSSY.
It stopped me in my tracks, I almost fell over for fuck’s sake. I felt completely and utterly unsafe, confused and violated by this guy who 20 minutes before appeared as an absolute gentleman. At this point, I was actually running away from him with him still chasing behind me spewing the boldest shit I’d ever heard. I finally reached Waterloo Station where he quickly got on a bus that had just arrived and shouted, ‘I loved tonight gorgeous, I’ll text you!’. WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG WITH HIM?! He was UNHINGED. There was even a guy waiting outside the station that asked if I was ok because he could see how shaken up I was.
The whole journey on the tube on the way home I was thinking what the hell happened, what were the warning signs I missed? I even blamed myself thinking did I lead him on in anyway or give him the impression that it was in anyway acceptable or that I enjoyed it? It was just utterly gross. When I got home, I was relieved that Kelsey was washing up in the Kitchen, ‘Oi oi, how was your hot date?’ she asked. Her faced turning from playful to concerned as she saw the disturbance on my face. She pulled me in for a big hug and asked me what happened. I explained everything to her over a much-needed hot chocolate whilst horizontal on the sofa. She was really taken back and shocked to hear how the evening events had escalated after the positive text I had sent her from the outdoor bar. She told me to block him immediately, and I felt sick as soon as I glanced at my phone. I had a WhatsApp message from him that stated ‘I loved meeting you tonight Efemena, and I love the way you play hard to get. I loved kissing your juicy lips and can’t wait to see you again. Sleep well xxx’. I couldn’t even read it aloud, Kelsey had to read it for herself. She was flabbergasted no doubt, as was I. How could he think I was playing hard to get, or that we had a good time?! I was completely concerned that he thought my calling him out on his non-consensual sexual behaviour was a sexy game? Overcome with anger I responded to his disgusting message.
I wasn’t playing hard to get. The next time a girl tells you to stop, stop. It’s not a game. You violated me when you licked my face without my permission and thought it was acceptable to touch my boobs and vagina in public. You do not know me well enough to make that assumption and when I told you to leave me alone you continued harassing me. That’s sexual assault. To be clear, I never want to see you again. You’re a disgusting piece of shit.
And then I immediately blocked him.
Two Weeks Later
After this unfortunate incident, guess who I bumped into two weeks later at a friends Gig in South London? That’s right, this piece of shit.
I was sitting in a gorgeous pub, catching up with a friend I hadn’t seen for a couple of months, when I see this familiar looking guy hugging an old friend of mine outside the gig. I double took. No, it can’t be? And yet it could be, because it was him. In plain daylight. Dread filled my body. I felt sick, my whole body engulfed in anxiety. Having already explained the date to the friend I was with over the phone earlier that week, when she asked what was wrong, I simply pointed outside the window and said, ‘that’s the guy from last week, Mick’. ‘NOOO’ she said, horrified. I expressed the fact I felt uncomfortable and that I wanted to go but she encouraged me to say phrasing it as an empowering act, ‘don’t let him ruin your night’.
I tried to put his presence out of my mind and the fact he had clearly disguised his gross self from my old friend he was hugging outside the venue. I was plagued by thoughts; how does he know her? Who else does he know? Why is he here? My friend Rachel and I made our way downstairs to create distance from Mick and also to get a good spot to stand as the gig was about to start. 10 minutes in and Mick could clearly see me and was almost excited to make his presence known to me. I could feel his burning stare towards the corner of my eye, and he even had to audacity to make a beeline and stand directly in front of me, dancing in front of me, each time he spun around looking at me directly in the face. I just continued to feel sick, and as I tried to walk away, I was so upset because Rachel was actually encouraging me to stay and dance right next to this bastard, ignoring how obviously triggered I was. I told her I was leaving, to which she responded she was staying, and as I left the pub, I had a panic attack on the side of the road. I had called my mum to tell her though she couldn’t really understand me and some lovely strangers on the street stayed with me for a while and even got me some water from the shops. I was so disappointed that though Rachel only came to the gig because I invited her and even though she knew no one there, she would have rather stayed then left with me and made sure I was alright.
Clearly more affected by this interaction with Mick than I thought, when I eventually got home, to my own surprise I called a free helpline and anonymously spoke to this kind, patient woman on the other line who was trained in mental health and trauma who validated how I was feeling and was able to explain how and why I was feeling so overwhelmed and triggered. This was the first time ever I had reached out for help from a stranger, and it was a really cathartic experience talking everything out to someone I didn’t know without any judgement. She even gave me some coping techniques, strategies, and advice for how to navigate this moving forward. I learnt that not only is it ok to ask for help, but the act of asking for help can empower you when you feel like you don’t have control of a situation. I absolutely hated meeting Mick, and that interaction did affect me for quite a while, but when I was on holiday with two great, supportive friends of mine recently relaying this story, I actually had a bit of a laugh talking about it. And though sexual assault is nothing to laugh about, it just goes to show that sometimes with time, some experiences have less of a hold on us, and that we do have the power to heal. Placing energy into the healing of our mind, body and soul is so critical and should be a priority high on our list, even though it is hard, and we often forget!
For everyone reading this who has had an experience of some kind of Mick, which unfortunately in this day in age is most likely, I’m really sorry. Unfortunately, Mick’s are everywhere, but we shouldn’t internalise their behaviour or blame ourselves for the negative experiences they inflict on us and others.
And to all the Mick’s out there — FUCK YOU.
