I was 11 when I was raped... the first time. I went over to my friend's house and knocked on the door to see if he wanted to come out. His older brother answered the door and said my fiend was upstairs. Turns out my friend wasn't upstairs, and nobody else was home either. You can imagine what happened next. I didn't know, at first what was happening to me, but when it happened that I was alone with him the next time, I was horror stricken. It hurt the first time, and I sensed that it was wrong, and here it was happening again. My teenage years were pretty normal. I had sex here and there. When I was 21, though, something different but mind blowing happened. I was meeting up with some friends at a bar, and I was there before the others. At the end of the bar sat a decent looking girl, and we started talking. One thing led to another, and she asked me back to her place for sex. Being the normal male, I was all for it. Then, once we were in the bedroom, four guys burst open the door. I thought at first that one of them was her boyfriend and he was surely going to beat the shit out of me. Turned out I was wrong. She grabbed her clothes and disappeared. These four guys wrestled me down (even though I put up a fight - I was always pretty athletic), and even then I didn't know what they were going to do. One then pulled out a steak knife. I had to submit. I can still remember having my head shoved into the mattress/blankets, and I thought I would die there. They were pretty brutal. They talked trash and I could feel the pain but I think I tried to block a lot of it out, because if I was going to die then I was hoping it would just be over soon. I never knew who they were, and I guess they banked on the fact that I'd never say anything. They were right.

Here's my point. For a long time after that (up till now) I have to ask myself if I've been trying to make up for it. I always try to overachieve. I demand a lot of myself because in my head I know the fact that I was gang raped is a shortcoming. So I try to make up for it in other ways. I don't know if it's a good thing. I'm a compulsive athlete, a ditzbrain when it comes to being organized because I'm always busy (trying to make up for my shortcomings?) and afraid of personal relationships to a point. My wife is a saint who has put up with me, although I haven't told her the whole story. Is overachieving the same as overreacting? I find I don't like a lot about myself, and if a lot of others knew my story, they would like me either, and that's IF they believed me.

Thanks for reading all this. I just had to get it out.