For a person who tends to make people uncomfortable by confronting sexual assault, I find this post surprisingly difficult to write, especially since this is essentially a story about a crime averted. 

I know it is not because it is my story.  I know it is because this story skirts the border of what many people would find “normal.”  I am uncomfortable because it was not.

I had two tennis instructors and a tennis friend in high school.  The first instructor was a college student.  He was cute enough that I did not focus on my game.

I was most comfortable playing tennis with a neighbor boy who was several years younger than me.  We had a wonderful time playing across the street from our apartment building.  I was Martina and he was Boris and we just had fun. I am positive he was a better player than I was.

Then one day Y came along.  Y was a military fitness instructor and twice my age.  He “took” me “under his wing” in the sense that he gave me a lot of very good tennis lessons for free.  Even after all these years I know he was a very good tennis instructor.

Problem?   My friend Boris told me that when I was not around Y talked quite a bit about initiating a sexual relationship with me.  I was no more than sixteen.  It makes me mad now when I think about it.

It makes me mad because he could have hurt me.

and because he said things about and to me that were extremely inappropriate

and because for reasons I can only ascribe to their own discomfort, my parents never really did anything.

You could say Boris saved me.

I do.

Thanks Boris.  You were a great friend, a wonderful tennis partner, and a truth-teller.

If I had any idea where you were I would give you a big hug.