I had a close call myself once. I had left the office late after a long day and was waiting in front of the building for my sister to pick me up so that we could go out. I was stressed out from the project I had been working on that had fallen apart, so I was trying (and failing) not to cry.
A man walked by, heard me, and walked over. At first he seemed fine, if a little over-friendly, asking “what a pretty girl” like me was crying about and if I was okay.
When I said that yes, I was fine, he asked if I wanted a hug. I don’t mind hugs and he seemed nice enough, so I said sure. After he hugged me, he asked if I wanted to go and get dinner with him. I said that no, I couldn’t because I was waiting for someone, but thanks anyway. He kept asking and asking, getting more and more persistent each time I said no, and even asked me if I always got off work after this time, and that he would see me tomorrow to ask me again.
Finally he said that I “at least owe[d him] that much,” and it made me angry. I told him that I didn’t owe him anything for being “compassionate” and that I wasn’t interested.
He changed his tack and asked me to go to his apartment with him, touching my face. I said no. “You have to, come on,” he said, to which I replied, “I don’t have to do anything. Please go away.” He finally seemed to get it, and he started to walk away. After only a few steps, though, he turned back to me and said, “Come over here and take your pants off.” I told him no. He repeated the order, and again I refused. “Come on, don’t you want to have some fun?”
“I just want to go out with my sister. I don’t want to do anything with you.”