What Happened to Sarah Everard Happens All The Time

You just have to pay attention.

He wouldn’t stop talking.

That’s how it started.

My friend was trying to read, but he wanted to flirt. “It’s going to be a long flight if you keep ignoring me,” he said. He gave her one of those smiles, the kind that hides a swelling storm of anger.

Women know this smile well, because no matter how hard someone tries to smile through anger, the eyes always give it away.

So she started humoring his questions.

She gave brief, one-word answers at first. Before she knew it, they were having one of those largely one-sided conversations. He was young, about her age, and well-dressed. He wore a nice watch. It looked expensive, maybe a Rolex. The entitlement dripped off him. They wound up talking for most of the flight. At some point, she gave up on reading her book. She closed the cover and slid it into the seat pocket.

After they landed and started the taxi to their arrival gate, the man asked my friend about her travel plans, and if there was any way to meet up for a drink later, since they’d be in the same city.

He tried to guess which hotel she was staying at. Then he asked for her phone number. My friend didn’t want to give it to him, but she did anyway. She worried what would happen if she didn’t.

Then he started dialing.

“What are you… doing?” she said.

He grinned. “Making sure you gave me your real number,” he said. “I’m not dumb. I know all about your little strategies.”

After they deplaned, my friend tried to end their conversation. Instead, he started following her to ground transportation.

Then a miracle happened.

He had to use the bathroom.

So instead of grabbing a coffee like she normally did after a long flight, my friend rushed off and flagged down the first driver she could find.

This is what happens next.

What I describe next has happened to me or someone I know. It’s a grim scenario my friend was forced to play through in her head once she finally ditched her admirer and checked into her hotel.

She couldn’t relax. She didn’t feel safe.

After all, a strange aggressive man had her phone number, and was probably staying in a hotel just blocks away. He knew she was a teacher. It wouldn’t be hard to figure out which conference she would be at all day. So instead of enjoying panels and catching up with colleagues, she spent half the day looking over her shoulder.

Eventually, she calmed down and decided to let loose with some friends after the last session. They went out to dinner, then they had a few drinks. That’s when she saw him from across the room.

She did a double take to make sure.

Their eyes locked.

Yep.

It was the guy from the plane.

That’s when she told her friends about the awkward conversation she’d had on the flight over, and the abnormal behavior. She realized she was talking mainly to men. They found the story amusing, a testament to her good looks. Her closest friend suggested they find another bar — or go back to someone’s room. Nobody else wanted to leave.

They ordered another round.

A few minutes later, the guy from the plane strode over and introduced himself to everyone. He smiled at my friend and leaned in close, giving her a charming smile. “I figured I’d track you down.”

My friend reverted to that scared smile.

The guy from the plane sat down and started chatting everyone up. His superficial charm mingled well with their alcohol. The men at the table warmed up to him as she shared stories about investing.

They ordered another round.

They pressured my friend to do the same

Halfway through her third glass of wine, she started to feel dizzy.

Everything started moving in slow motion. She stood up and stumbled off to the ladies room. Her friend got up to help her as the guys gave them a dumbfounded stare. They said:

“Is she okay? What’s up with her?”

“Did she drink too much?”

“The flu’s going around.”

My friend made it to a toilet before throwing up. When she got back, the guy from the plane tried to put his arm around her.

He tried to tell everyone he would take her back to her hotel. The guys at the table started to exchange nervous glances. It was pretty clear, they didn’t know what to do. What they wanted was to stay out for a few more hours and drink. Some of them were talking about trying to hook up with someone before the night was over.

So, my friend’s friend — a woman — wound up calling an uber and riding back to the hotel with her. She put up a wall of bitch against the guy from the plane, until he got frustrated and wandered off. She walked my friend back to her room and stayed there the rest of the night, messaging with everyone she knew, telling them in detail what just happened.

She made my friend drink a bunch of water. My friend fell asleep. She slept for 12 hours. The next day, they decided not to call the police. It would just introduce more trouble.

My friend went to panels, but nowhere by herself.

She skipped the nightlife altogether.

At the airport, she made herself as small as possible. She spent every minute looking at her phone, or a book, praying her admirer didn’t show up again.

He didn’t.

My friend spends the rest of her life wondering if something like this will happen again. She wonders what she did wrong. Then it hits her: She relaxed. She trusted the people around her.

That’s what she did.

Women deal with this all the time.

Some version of this story has happened to nearly every woman on the planet. It happened to Sarah Everard, now dead, because a London police officer decided her life belonged to him. She disappeared from a well-lit area, right after talking to her boyfriend on the phone. The horrifying part is that Sarah was killed by the very type of person she was taught to place her trust in. It’s not the first time something like this has ever happened.

It’s just the first time it’s getting attention.

Most men have no idea how much time women spend navigating aggressive advances and figuring out ways to escape predators.

They have no idea how tired we are of smiling to avoid the anger of entitled males and sparking their tempers.

We’re tired of everyone assuming that a woman smiling means everything his just fine, when she’s actually crying for help with her eyes, and wondering why nobody’s paying attention. We’re tired of not being able to leave our homes without getting catcalled, or followed, or killed.

We’re tired of dating gurus telling everyone it’s fine to walk up to a woman you don’t know and tug on her earbuds, or comment on her appearance one way or another, then act like they’ve done the world a great service by boosting her confidence.

Here’s what women want.

What women want is simple.

They want to be left alone, just like men get to be left alone when they’re going about their day.

Women want everyone to understand the clear and simple differences in body language and facial expression that make it obvious when they’re open to interacting with strangers, and when they’re not.

Women want people to get upset when a woman is kidnapped in broad daylight by a police officer, then murdered. They want people to pay attention when a predator is lurking.

Women want their lives to be respected.

That’s all.