HOLLA ON THE GO: “My worst #metoo moment…”
My worst “#metoo” moment took place last July when I was the victim of a forcible touching incident on the uptown A train in Manhattan. I was coming back from the park at rush hour after exercising in Central Park. I was wearing an old T-shirt, baseball cap and yoga pants, absolutely nothing to attract attention. The 59th Street Columbus Circle station was very crowded due to train delays. I was hot and sticky and all I wanted to do was get home. Right beside me on the platform I noticed this balding guy in his 40s wearing tight, stretchy gym shorts. That caught my eye, because the material was so skimpy, you could clearly see the outline of his penis, “Eww, dude, next time wear some underwear.” I glanced up at his face and he gave me this little smile, like “caught you looking.” Yuck! As if that were somehow a turn on for me.
When the train finally came after 20 minutes, it was so jam-packed I barely squeezed on, shoulder to shoulder with a herd of other exhausted commuters. As the doors closed, something raked across my butt that at first I thought was someone’s wrist. Then I glanced over my shoulder and realized the weirdo in the gym shorts had positioned himself behind me, with his dick in the crack of my ass. And he just brazenly parked it there, all the way from 59th to the next stop on the express, 125th Street!
It was too crowded to wriggle away, even half an inch. So basically, for more than 50 blocks I have to stand there with this thing that quickly got as thick and hard as a hammer crammed between my butt cheeks. The worst part is that because the material of his shorts was so thin and I was in yoga pants with, for comfort, nothing underneath, it felt like it was just his erect penis poking my bare ass. I was so grossed out I thought I was going to throw up.
The train kept swaying back and forth, sometimes forcing me to lean against the subway grinder–and whenever that happened, he used the opportunity to shove his repulsive male genitalia further and further up my behind. I was so disgusted, angry and embarrassed. The horrifying thought came over me that he might somehow penetrate me through my clothes, so I kept clenching my glutes as hard as I could on him to prevent that from happening.
Just before the train pulled into station, the pervert grunted like a pig and ejaculated on me. After the train emptied, I looked around for him to yell and point him out, and I had my cellphone out and ready to capture his face on camera, but he had slithered away like the cowardly lowlife he was. I flagged down a transit officer who helped me file a police report. I later turned over my pants so they could take a DNA sample. My only hope is that someday that evidence will be used to send the sick pervert who abused me to jail.