Beyond doubt, this is the most overwhelming text I have ever decided to write. It tells a story of harassment. Verbal. Psychological. Sexual.

I haven't talked about it in years. Only a few know what actually happened. Even fewer know how stressful, burdening, and traumatizing it was. I ran away and never looked back. And after all the time that's passed, rare are the days when it doesn't at least cross my mind.

Inspired by the countless courageous women (and men) who decided to speak up and give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem of sexual harassment by using the hashtag #MeToo, I too gathered the courage to come forward. 

Now, for the sake of post length, I'm not going to describe different occasions in which I felt sexually harassed (God knows there were plenty). Instead, I'm going to give an account of a situation that left me particularly perplexed and disturbed. I wish everyone would take it as a warning. 

So here it goes.

It was mid-May. I had been unemployed for over six months at the time. One day I stumbled upon a job ad; a company was looking for a secretary/translator. I Googled it and discovered it was a tourist apartment renting business. Assuming the open position had something to do with working at the reception desk, I applied for the job via email.

An hour later, I recieved a reply kindly thanking me for the application and asking for a full stature photo. Signed by a woman. 

I sent the first photo I found. Again, I got a "thank you" back. Signed by a woman.

Next morning, I received a phone call. From a man. Immediately after introducing himself as the owner of the business, he started bragging about his wealth and his plans to get even wealthier. He wouldn't stop talking. There was something strange about him right away. His voice revealed that he was a middle-aged man. His discourse revealed that he wasn't well-read, which I immediately connected to the poorly written email replies I had received the day before. He asked me some extremely odd questions, such as whether I used deodorant or liked wearing high heels (because he needed his translator to attend important meetings with him). He also wanted to know my relationship status and whether my significant other was jealous by nature.

Still, I was desperate for a job and agreed to meet him the next day.

It was Friday. I arrived to the 80 km distant city, expecting him to meet me at a tourist resort or anything as such. Yet, he met me at the streets and took me to what turned out to be a private apartment. I told him I couldn't stay for long because I have someone waiting for me at a nearby bar (which was true, I dared not to come alone). I was right about him: he was a 55-60-year-old bigmouth. He offered me some coffee, told me about his family and their primary business, and described the job position I was supposed to fill: he wanted to start a new business and he needed someone to translate the emails to and from his potential investors. It would include working only for a few hours a day, weekends off, and a fair paycheck. I agreed to a week trial period. 

As soon as I left, his emails and text messages started to arrive. I swear to God, I received more than 100 during the weekend, mainly saying how we're going to achieve great things together. 

When I arrived to work on Monday, he locked the door, took my purse, jacket, and cell phone, telling me he doesn't want me to use it while working.

Then he offered me a cup of tea and insisted on trying some home-made honey; he took a spoon, though, and tried feeding me with it.

Later he started talking about his daughter, a girl my age. He showed me some pieces of the jewellery she had made, took me by the hand and tried putting a ring on my finger.

I can't stress enough how this affected me. I generally have trouble with people coming too close to me, let alone touching me. I was horrified. I had trouble sleeping that night, knowing I needed the money desperately and trying to decide whether it was worth it.

On Tuesday he wanted me to see how awesome his new loudspeakers were. He blasted the music, and all I was thinking was that no one could hear me if I started screaming. For a second, I even considered jumping out of the window in case anything inappropriate started happening, although the place was on the first floor.

On Wednesday he started making some inappropriate comments on the sexual life of celebrities, stressing the role of parents in their intimate affairs. Namely, he believed fathers should decide who their daughters can sleep with, but exclusively for the purpose of satisfying their biological needs and urges, which is important for their performance in professional and other fields. This was the drop that spilled the cup.

On Thursday I told him I decided to go back to my former job after all. He begged me not to do it. He offered to buy me an apartment in his city. He also offered to buy me a car. I, of course, rejected the offer. Eventually we agreed that I would continue translating for him in my free time, but from (the safety of) my home.

This was not the end, though. 

For the following two moths, I had been receiving at least 100 text messages and emails a day from him. He also called on the weekends and holidays, insulting me for refusing to be at his disposal 24/7. This created a tremendous psychological pressure on me. When the payment day came, he accused me of trying to deceive him. When I proved him wrong, he only paid me half the money, and gave me the rest on a later occasion.

After this, I told him I wished him luck with his new business, but didn't want to be part of it anymore.

Maybe I got it all wrong. But the way I felt was real enough for me to run away. 

A year passed by until he called again. I froze. I never answered the call, but I hope he got the message.

#MeToo