The Moment That Sparked My Book, My Podcast, and My Unapologetic Voice

It was just meant to be a walk.

A public place. Middle of the day. Middle of June. Fully clothed. Just two people meeting for a first date — a safe, simple choice. Or so I thought.

But when I turned the corner and saw him, completely naked, I froze. Not out of shock. Not out of shame. But because, like so many women before me, I knew I had to navigate it safely. I knew I had to keep him calm. I knew my safety depended on how I responded to his behaviour.

I walked. I kept the conversation light. I got myself to my car.

And then I got told it was my fault.

That I should’ve known better. That I shouldn’t have been on dating apps. That I should’ve changed my behaviour, questioned my instincts, shrunk my presence, again, because even a public, daylight walk wasn’t enough to protect me.

That moment, and the wave of judgment that followed, became the moment I stopped apologising.

It became the catalyst for writing The One.
It became the story that shaped my voice.
It became the reason I now speak out, loudly and proudly, about the things we’re told to whisper.

Because I am done shrinking.

I am done carrying the weight of men’s bad behaviour like it’s ours to fix.

I am done with the shame that was never mine to begin with.

If I could record one dream podcast episode, this would be it. A conversation that’s not just about dating. It’s a cultural reckoning. A wake-up call for how society still places the responsibility for male violence and shame on women, and expects us to thank them for the lesson.

It’s not a horror story.
It’s not a cautionary tale.
It’s a mirror.

And it’s the story that started it all, the book, the podcast, the unfiltered truth I now share with the world.

I wrote The One under my real name for a reason: because I wasn’t going to hide. Because I wanted other women to know they’re not alone. And because I truly believe that empowerment starts where shame ends, in our honesty, our stories, and our refusal to be silenced.

So if you’ve ever been made to feel like you’re the problem for someone else’s poor choices, I want you to know:
I see you.
I believe you.
And your story matters, too.

This moment changed me. And maybe, just maybe, sharing it might change something for you, too.