The One That Got Away

I’m not sure I will ever know what K.C.’s real name was. He was nicknamed K.C. in high school after K.C. and the sunshine band, because he was the white guy that hung around all the black guys. K.C. was the manager of the movie theater I worked at, and the man I previously mentioned who saved me from J.R. at the prom. K.C. was also about 34 years old, and I had just turned 16 (I know, I know. I promise I get around to dating younger men eventually if you hang in there.)

So K.C. and I ended up “dating” for a little while. He was that cool, unavailable guy that you really want to fall for you but doesn’t and kind of strings you along. He had a reputation for liking younger girls. He didn’t even try to hide this fact. We were in the car together on one occasion and Oingo Boingo’s song “I love little girls” came on the radio. He said it was his theme song. Instead of seeing red flags waving or hearing WARNING,WARNING blaring in my head, I thought it was funny and giggled like the naïve little girl that I was.

I was always trying to impress him with how mature or how unique I was, in hopes to win him over completely and possibly have a real committed relationship. A relationship similar to the one that I had made up in my head and kept daydreaming about. I even lent him money once. $300 I will never see again. I figured it would just be a matter of time before he came around and saw that I was the one for him and we would live happily ever after. Unfortunately my visions of our future together came to a screeching halt on one seemingly normal day, when I showed up to work and a detective was waiting there to speak to me. He asked if he could have a few minutes of my time to talk to me about an urgent matter. I sat down with him at a nearby table, my stomach doing back flips all the while. He proceeded to try to scare and manipulate me into telling him that I was intimate with K.C. I wouldn’t. I lied and said we were just friends. He told me it didn’t matter what I said, that they were planning on arresting him that night regardless. He said they’d been investigating him for a long time, mainly for his relations with young girls and also because he apparently had a fetish for showing his penis in public. I pick all the winners. The detective said if I told K.C. about this visit I would get in big trouble, and tried some more to get me to admit that I, as a minor, had been with K.C. sexually. At this point, part of me wanted to protect K.C. from getting in trouble, and part of me just really didn’t like this detective. When he finally realized I wasn’t going to be of any help to his case against K.C., he left. I immediately called K.C. and told him to come meet me ASAP.

I filled him in on all that had been said during my meeting with the detective. He looked very sad, and was extremely thankful to me for telling him. I never saw him again after that. I did get a card from him in the mail once. The return address had the name Robert on it. New name, new life. He said in his card that he owed me so much and thanked me again. Looking back I should have probably turned him in.