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The Creeps of WWU

The dorms were annoying place to spend two years off at university, though I loved them too (the independence was super nice, and I enjoyed that a lot). But it was just really weird knowing there were guys a few doors down from me. Most guys were good though, and I didn’t worry about them.

A few weren’t though. And that’s the story I have to tell.

They called themselves the “Eden Hall Champions.” Sometimes I’d go to do laundry, and see a girl disappear into a guy’s room, and those in the halls would laugh. Sometimes you don’t need to see a sock on the door to know what’s happening inside. It was all a game to them.

It was easy to tell which guys were like this. I remember once, I was walking back through the halls, and one of the “champions” was leaning against one of the walls, watching me with that “appraising” look that I guess was supposed to make me blush, or get uncomfortable, or invite him into my room. Wow. Just wow.

I’m a very beautiful woman, with long, brown hair and sea-green eyes. I am slim, but athletic. And my face looks nice, despite the fact that I don’t wear makeup very often.

That’s why I dress the way I do, a lot of the time. I dress to look tough, and often it does the trick. Dress the right way, and you’re less of a target.

I didn’t dress overly feminine off at university. I wore a trench coat, hiking boots to class, and straight-leg jeans (my usual favorite). And there’s something about how you posture yourself sometimes—that will often squash their ambitions. Body language can scare a guy off pretty easily, if you know how to use it properly. Even if you are petite, you can still have a presence that commands attention and holds authority.

The “champion” was giving me that look, and I recognized it for what it was. I wasn’t scared of this guy. If anything, he should have been scared of me, and I knew it. As I passed him, I met his eyes, stood up taller, and glared him down. He shrunk into himself then, losing his smile of confidence. I smiled grimly, glad I had wiped his sick smile off of his sick face.

I’m pretty darn good at taking care of myself. “Street smarts,” I call it. In this day and age, as a young woman, you have to be.

I remember once, walking through downtown Olympia, helping with some event for my church. Gosh, this was a while ago. I was still in high school. Eighteen, maybe? Anyways. I was walking through downtown Oly. A creepy man sidled up to me and said, “Hello, darling.” He was trying to scare me, and I knew it. But it was daylight. And I honestly wasn’t that scared of him. “Good day,” I replied cheerfully, and continued walking.

I remember once, walking through Centralia College area after a musical performance. I was walking back to my truck. It was night. A man came out of his house, out onto the street, and tried to talk with me. I gave him a cheerful, “Good evening,” and just kept walking, though I listened for his footsteps behind me.

I remember once, driving home. A man pulled up in his truck next to me on the freeway. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He kept switching the cab lights in his truck off and on, off and on. Maybe he was a demon, not a man. I don’t know. I don’t know how he knew I was in there, and that I was a young woman. It was dark—well into the night. I knew at once that he was a stalker, and dangerous. I knew that I was close to the country, and to drive off onto a secluded road would be unwise. I was seventeen, but I knew this. So, I pulled off the freeway at a gas station that was always well populated and well lit. The creepy man in his truck left after that.

Oh yes, I know this world well. And as a woman, I am especially wary.

But there are so many men out there I would entrust with my life. Today, in fact, I just got back from my home church—Calvary Chapel. I love it there. It is a place of real, abiding love. As I look around, I know just about every single family there. And as I watch their sons, I think: These guys, I would trust with my life. That’s just how Calvary guys are: they’re so honoring, loving, and trustworthy. It reminds me of heaven. It is heaven on earth.

The guys I like best as friends (guy friends my age) are the ones who I know are trustworthy, treat me like a tomboy (and a human being. Do you know how rare that is?), and are kind to me. Kindness means the world to me. And selflessness. And confidence. And patience with my faults.

It’s rare to find a guy like this. Most want a golden-haired beauty. Most don’t like it when the girl is uncontrollable. Most don’t like my confidence, especially once it means I have a mind and will of my own. Most don’t like me when I’m sick or unhealthy. They only want healthy Arielle.

Most only want summer roses. And the rest? They just want someone to sleep with.