We were walking along the bike trail.  It was aggravating because bikes kept whizzing by with riders shouting, “Passing on your left!”, or giving no warning at all, just a rush of wind and a bare glimpse of form that seemed to barrel down upon you.  I met him in a bar last night, and yes, I had had a few beers when we began our conversation. Bars bred loneliness, as far as I'm concerned:  I never saw a happy relationship spawned in the stagnant pool bars held.  Still I kept searching, like every other person I knew, looking for the one.  Would I find the one in a bar?  I hoped not, but last night seemed different.  This guy didn't try to stick his tongue in my ear or his hand down my pants.  He argued that Russian Formalism was insanity, that meaning was interpretive to every reader's particular context.  It was an interesting conversation, screaming above the sappy dance tunes that formed a wall of sound seemingly being demolished by a ten ton wrecker.  He asked me to meet him in the daylight and quiet.  I said okay; what if he was the one?   When I casually glance sideways seeing his kind face I am comfortable, and am glad I am spending this Sunday afternoon with him.  You must understand, I’m what I characterize as "careful", and what a friend of mine calls "paranoid".  Doors are locked at all times, never give your phone number to someone that you don't know and most importantly – never, absolutely ever  go anywhere alone with anyone you don't know, male or female.  Have you seen America's Most Wanted?  People can be crazy and I don't mean mentally ill.  Yet here I am, on a somewhat isolated bike trail, walking along at a leisurely pace, feeling the radiation effects of the sun on my unprotected skin, alternately enjoying myself one minute, then tense and miserable the next.  After all, has he said or done anything that would raise suspicion?  Instead of Russian Formalism, today he's attacking creationism – and I agree.  He's a great looking guy, appears to be thoughtful and intelligent.  So was Ted Bundy I have to remind myself.

        He stops walking momentarily, temporarily silencing the current diatribe against the advance of technology, when was advancement detrimental in a holistic sense.  The tenseness seeps in though I try to stop it, thoughts of him being the one die.  He looks up and down the trail, then steps off the pavement onto the grass.  Oh no, here we go, I tell myself, this could be it.  There are miles of deserted woods here, not one biker's going by.  The silence is so oppressive I don't know how the animals can stand it – when silence is this ominous it must predict some ill event.  I am shifting from one foot to another feeling a cold sweat on the back of my neck prickle and warn me.  Warn me of what?  Should I just run now while he has his back turned?  If I get a bit of a head start on him I may be able to get away, otherwise I know damn well I can't outdistance him; I never was much of a runner.  Come on, what if I run and he was just casually looking at some point of interest off to the side?  I would most definitely feel like a total ass then.  So which is it?  Feel like an ass if I'm wrong or give up the chance of escaping an assault, a situation that is my fault and my fault alone because I know better than to take a chance.  Oh no, he's bending down . . . now he's turning . . . it's now or never . . . shit it's probably too late to make a break for it . . . I bet he has a gun or a knife, some weapon to enforce his will . . . why did I put myself in this position?

        Of course I handled what happened next very well.  My face showed no sign of the inner turmoil just experienced, that in those few brief seconds my mind seemed to be calculating a possible scenario as fast as the fastest computer he had been arguing against.  A mixture of logic, emotion, and experience with what is possible in our modern society all played a part in trying to assess the best plan of attack or defense, whichever would seem more appropriate.  When he did eventually turn around after what felt like a millennium, the whole scene seemed to have an unreal slow motion effect and everything appeared much too bright, almost white hot.  I wasn't afraid – the only way to describe how I felt was that I was aware.  I was aware of too much detail and possibility; I was definitely in pain.  All my senses focused on this man, this entity controlling my near future.  Frame by frame he turned, frozen each second in a bizarre contra-pasto, holding something in his right hand.  I braced myself.  Cupped in his hand as he walked toward me was a pale red flower partially wilted from the heat of the sun.  He held it out with a disarming smile, and I accepted that wilted symbol, a symbol of safety.  He never heard my mental sigh of relief, but it was there.  I told myself, all that hard work and mistrust for nothing, it is possible to meet a genuinely decent person in our troubled society, a person not looking to further his or her ends at your expense.  I was too glad to have been wrong about his intentions, maybe he was the one.  I had a very enjoyable afternoon on the deserted bike trail, drinking in nature in its tamed state and sharing a bit of humanity with a fellow human who was born on this Earth for the same reason as I, whatever that may be.

        What can I say?  He raped me on the way home.