{~Date~}, I'm a 25 year old trans woman. I met a friendly man via instagram. I'm a musician, and he said he was too. We talked often on the phone and became good friends within weeks, planning to make music together. I drove to meet him publicly at a supermarket in a rural Arizona, USA town. I just wanted to meet him in person for an hour or so, feel things out to make sure he didn't seem "off". He was a large guy. But he was super friendly and we had tons in common. I still had suspicions, of course. After chatting for an hour, I took him to his friend's house nearby, as his home was another hour into the desert small towns. I didn't want to leave him in the middle of the streets or farmland. He said he would spend the night at his friend's house then get home on his own tomorrow. Once we arrived, he courteously invited me to meet his friend and the friend's mother. Doubt and a bad gut feeling washed over me. But I was just going to say hello then leave? Why not, right? An ordinary suburban, white mother greeted me in the kitchen kindly. I went up stairs to say hello to his friend, give them a little weed to smoke themselves later, and say my goodbyes and leave in my car alone. Suddenly his demeanor changed. He wasn't violent, but creepy and persistent as all hell... He began touching me through my clothes as his friend played video games, indifferent to what was occurring. The man began backing me into a walk-in closet. I didn't react because I had NO CELL RECEPTION in this TINY TOWN. No way to call help, fear of being attacked if I opposed him. He pulled down my pants and gentled nudged me forward, causing me to trip onto my hands and knees. He kneeled behind me, and I knew exactly what could have happened next. My fight or flight kicked in. It was either live or die. I thought surely I'd be killed if I did anything. Thinking in my mind "fuck the odds, I must at least try to escape," I pulled up my pants, jumping to my feet and ran with haste. Not even turning back, despite hearing him calling out to me with a sense of pseudo-concern, I continued in a full sprint down the stairs and out the front door. I jumped in my car, locking the door and igniting the engine just before he arrived at the driver door. He was still saying "oh sweetie, it's okay, let's talk about this. Come back inside." I screamed something incoherent that I can't remember, through closed windows. I slammed my foot on the gas, peeling out into the sunset. I drove home speeding, never thinking anything else. I was having tunnel vision and just wanted to get home as soon as possible. It's only now, ONE YEAR LATER that I am telling my story to my family and my partner... I plan to discuss this with my new therapist. If you get a sinking feeling that you shouldn't go into someone's house, DO NOT.