When one runs low on ideas one turns to stories from their past. I shall be no different. This is one of the few interesting things to actually happen to me. It's the story about the time that I wasn't raped.
There is one major piece of advice that parents give their kids. That would be of course to not talk to strangers. It's considered one of those very important things for a child to do. Way to instil a fear of the unknown into your children! I think this happened when I was about 11-13. I'm not sure on my precise age because of well, natural memory less. I'm going senile you know. Or at least suppressing everything.
So anyway, I was a youngster and a friend of my older brother said I could go to his house to hang out sometime. I said sure, because I kinda liked the guy myself. He was pretty cool. He's also not that necessary to the story. He was unfortunately pretty bad at directions, and that is his major role in this story; he gave my dad poor directions to his house. My dad took me to the wrong place, and I foolishly dismissed him before making sure it was the right house. What I should have done is knocked on the door, and then signalled for my dad to leave once I was safely inside. Instead I had him leave before I knocked on the door. Shortly after knocking on the door was when I realised that it was the wrong house, or the guy just wasn't home. I would later discover it was the wrong house entirely. By this point my dad is already gone. Home is about two miles away but when you're that young you don't really think about things like that. You tend to just think "Oh fuck I'm lost." That was pretty much what I did. That's when I broke that one rule that your parents instil in you. The one thing that they shove down your throats.
I talked to a stranger.
There was a guy not far down the road who was with his family. I don't remember exactly what they were doing. For all I know the guy was alone. Well anyway, I went and talked to him and explained my situation. Because I was so close, and he was so nice, he offered me a ride home. So I went and broke the second rule parents tell you; I got in a car with a stranger. A pick up truck no less. But he returned me home safe and sound and in to the arms of my sister, who was freaking out that I took a strange man's offer on a ride home.
Is there a point to this story? I suppose not. It's just a nice little story about how I got lost and was helped by a stranger, who never proceeded to rape me. Not all strangers are bad people. Even ones with pick up trucks that are prime for transporting the body of a dead 11 year old boy.
Maybe I was just ugly when I was young.