Your mother told you: "Always let someone know where you're going. And wear clean underwear." Once again, mother was right.

Andrea met Matt in a coffee shop. It was a Chicago neighborhood place, and she'd come in every day about the same time with her friends. Matt would come in every day at the same time with his friends. They made a lot of eye contact. "He was handsome to die for," Andrea says. And they hadn't talked, although she knew he had an "elegant foreign accent" and his name was Matt.

One evening, the buzzer rang in her apartment. Being a savvy urban soldier, she didn't buzz him in. She went down to the lobby to see who it was, and there was Matt. She asked him how he found her, but he just smiled mysteriously and said something like "I have ways."

She says: "I was so flattered! He said he was on his way to a party with his friends and asked if it'd go with him. Absolutely! He waited in the lobby while I went back upstairs to get ready."

He had no car, so they took the bus. They rode it to the end of the line and then transferred to a bus line with which Andrea wasn't familiar. As they talked, he explained he was a Russian on a temporary exchange program. His name wasn't really Matt; it was something unpronounceable in English. They got off the bus in a neighborhood with deserted warehouses and walked a couple of blocks.

She says: "I'm in a huge city, there are no people around, not even any cars. My street smarts finally kicked in. He halted in front of a totally dark, silent warehouse, opened a door, and told me to go in. I'm staring into a dark, empty stairwell. I balked. A little voice in my head said, 'Do not go into dark, enclosed spaces with strangers.'

"He flicked a light switch and said, 'The bulb is burned out' and shrugged. There was a big party in there? At that point I wondered, 'Where am I?' 'Who am I with?' The street seemed dangerous enough, but that stairwell seemed worse. My mind saw a two-paragraph newspaper article about woman's dead body found in stairwell. That's about what my death would rate in the Chicago press."

They stood on the sidewalk chatting. To Andrea's amazement and great relief, people suddenly showed up with food. They charged up the stairs, opened the doorway to the loft and started up the music. Within an hour, there were 100 people there, some of whom she recognized from the coffee shop.

She says: "All's well that ends well, I guess. I had a wonderful evening. Matt went back to Russia, but I stayed in touch with his friends, who are really nice people. But, it could have been a lot different, and I should have left word with someone about to where I was going and with whom. I read stories about women who have been killed for being too trusting and think, 'There but for the grace of God go I!'"

Have you gotten yourself in dangerous situations? Send your tale, along with your questions and problems to cheryllavinrapp@gmail.com. And check out my e-books, "Dear Cheryl: Advice from Tales from the Front" and "I'll Call You. Not.