So Far Away

So Far Away

            Five decades ago I was completing my senior year at college. As was customary back in those days, I lived in the dormitory for the duration of the four years while I was seeking my Bachelor’s Degree, at what is now called Kean University, in Union, New Jersey. I thoroughly enjoyed the college experience. The classes and professors were intellectually stimulating, as was the era when I attended, being the late sixties and early seventies. 

            For women, it was certainly a time of changing beliefs, or so we thought. In the non-coed dormitory, where I resided, I met several other female students, and we spent so much time together in welcomed comradery. We experienced strict curfews at the beginning of our journey, and witnessed changes that led to a less firm hold on our comings and goings. By my senior year I had a circle of friends that I held dear. Some women were already engaged, and many, like myself were not. We were fans of the likes of Gloria Steinem, as well as Mary Richards from the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Many of us believed that it was not only possible, but imperative that we seek interesting and fulfilling careers. 

            One of the female students I met during my sophomore year in my English Lit class I will refer to as Helga Yanik. We had a lot in common, most notably our mutual crush on our professor. We sat next to each other in class, and afterwards walked to the Student Union building for a bite to eat, extolling the wonderful lecture we had just heard by our prince of a professor. That was the foundation of a friendship that was to last for many years post- graduation. I was a math major, and Helga was a music major.  Eventually she became a contestant in the Miss American Pageant, after she had won the title of Miss New Jersey while still a student at school. She then took a leave of absence from school that year, but we remained in touch. 

            Towards the end of my senior year, I received a call from Helga. She had met a guy during her pageant activities, and thought I would like to meet him. At that time, I was unattached to anyone special. After her flattering description, I agreed she could give my phone number to him so that he could reach me at the dormitory. I will refer to him as Robert Overton. 

            Robert did call a few days later, and we had a pleasant conversation. After our long and enjoyable chat, we decided to meet the following Saturday night, and Robert suggested we go out for dinner. I was pleased and anxious to meet Robert in person.  We seemed to get along well during the phone conversation, and I certainly trusted Helga’s judgement on choosing a man for me to meet. 

            Robert picked me up at the dormitory, and he was tall, very good-looking, and was handsomely dressed. In those first few moments I was certainly delighted, and looking forward to the rest of the evening. It was at the beginning of June, and I had only about two weeks left before graduation. 

            We drove to a restaurant a few towns away from the campus, and enjoyed a nice meal. One of the many things I recall from that part of the evening was the very popular song of that time period, So Far Away, sung by Carole King, playing in the background, as we were served our meal. I thought to myself, “What could be better? A nice guy, a lovely restaurant, great music…finally maybe this guy is potentially someone special for me.”

            Robert seemed to also be enjoying our conversation, and it appeared that we were hitting it off.  He told me about the new job he had in some firm, which was why he had recently moved to the area.  I spoke about my plans to teach math after graduation. He also mentioned his association with Helga, and how charming a person she was, and he highlighted their conversation about me. Everything was going so well, and I was truly relaxed, and happy to have met Robert.

            After the meal Robert suggested we go to his apartment. He had explained that he had just moved in due to his new job. I was immediately reluctant, and voiced my concern to him about going to a man’s apartment. Although he seemed to understand my concern, he clarified that he wasn’t even unpacked yet, that there were boxes all around, and we could just watch television, and talk further. He seemed so nice, and despite the little voice in my head reminding me that I didn’t really know him well at this point, I agreed.  Since he appeared so genuinely interested in just continuing our evening together, I surmised it would be alright to spend some time in his place.

            We drove another fifteen or twenty minutes. By now, I didn’t exactly know the town where his home was located. As we entered his apartment, there were lots of unpacked cartons, just like he had mentioned earlier. However, the television was in the bedroom, with no other available sitting area other than his bed. But throughout, Robert was still congenial, offering me something to drink, displaying all the other niceties of a perfect host. We sat on the bed, with the television turned on, and then he suggested we lie down. At this point, I began to sense just a little concern and discomfort.

            To this day, I remember the outfit I had chosen for this date. White bell-bottomed pants, a satin vertical- striped black and white top with small yellow scattered polka dots, with three buttons down the front. We continued our conversation until the words I can still hear to this day began to fill me with panic. Robert said, “Play with me.” He tried to grab my hand and place it where I did not wish it to be placed, on his genitals. “Play with me, play with me.” So many times, he uttered those words. I knew something was very wrong, and I managed somehow to get myself out of that bed. I had no intention of engaging in a sexual encounter with a man I had just met a few hours earlier that night. I asked for him to call it a night, and take me home. He laughed, and then said, “Find your own way back, you cunt tease.” 

            I was devastated, shocked, and confused. I had done nothing to give this man the impression that I was out for sex. Not a single part of our previous conversation had hinted of any talk of a sexual nature.  Robert just stayed in the bed, smirking, and did not move. I ran out of his apartment. I had no idea where I was. As I walked out the door I thought of knocking on another apartment’s door and asking for help, but I couldn’t imagine anyone letting in a stranger. 

            I left the building quickly, wanting to get away from Robert’s unit, thinking I could find a store that was still open at this time of the evening, and make a call. It was already dark as I looked up the street, and realized his neighborhood was mostly residential, and worse still, across the street from the apartment building was a cemetery. To say I was just scared, would be a vast understatement. I couldn’t believe what had happened. 

            At that point I thought of trying to hitch a ride back to the dormitory. I knew the danger of doing that, but I thought nothing would be worse than what I had just been through. While on the sidewalk, from a distance I saw and heard what appeared to be a motorcycle coming towards my direction. I figured it must be some hippie, it was the seventies after all, and maybe he would take me away from this area. Miraculously, the motorcycle stopped right by me. It wasn’t a hippie. It was a policeman. I cried in disbelief. He asked if I needed help. I cried and cried, became hysterical and told him what had happened. He asked if I wanted to press charges as he called for backup. I told him I just wanted to get back to my dormitory. Other police arrived but were soon sent away. The kind policeman stayed with me until the taxi he had radioed for, arrived. 

            About thirty minutes later the taxi was on campus, let me off, and I was back at my dormitory, safe. I walked up the stairs to my floor, and knocked on the door belonging to my very close friend that had been my freshman year roommate. She was there along with another student who I knew. I sat, and told them every detail of what had happened that evening. I was still shaking, as I relayed all the specifics of what had transpired. As I spoke the words to them, I realized just how lucky I had been. The night’s events could have been so much worse. I could have been beaten, or raped, or killed, but fortunately that did not happen. 

            As I thought back to the evening, nothing during our car ride, or dinner at the restaurant, gave me any clue that this person was anything but a nice guy. It was my first lesson, in realizing that not everything is at it seems. Although I had always considered myself a cautious person, from that night on, I seemingly grew an innate sensory radar detection, whenever I met someone new. 

            I spoke with my friend Helga the next day, and told her all about the incident. Of course, she was profusely apologetic that I had suffered such an experience, and was quite shocked and confused as to Robert’s behavior. Nevertheless, Helga and I remained good friends, and when she died 22 years ago, I was quite saddened by her passing. 

            The experience I had with Robert was probably the catalyst that pushed me to become a very independent woman from that point on. I have managed to experience great love, and to be loved by men, but I undeniably rely on myself, and my own instincts. Today, I think of all the struggles women still are experiencing, and I grapple with knowing how many men still perceive women in a particular way, with a particular function. And even worse, that many women still do not see themselves as worthy of being equally regarded individuals, compared to men. 

            It has been at least 50 years since that awful “date” with a man who misrepresented himself to me. Yet I have remembered every exact detail, even the little chill in the air while I spoke to the policeman about what had happened, even though in time it was, So Far Away.

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