A few months ago I posted part 1 of my story which was the realization that my mother had abused me during my early childhood. That recent realization led me to search for help online, which is how I found this site. I posted part 1, then I was avoiding this site for awhile.

I'm sorry if this is way too long, and it is full of triggers. I didn't include the details to be shocking or anything, more just that I don't want to gloss over anything, or minimize it (does that make sense?)

Part 2. Where to begin...? I guess chronologically. When I was about ten my older brother had sort of become friends a guy named Sean who lived the next street over. My brother is about 2 and half years older than me, Sean was 3 and half years older. I was always getting shit from my brother, we fought all the time, and most of the time I couldn't stand him. Sean started hanging out with us, he was really cool in my eyes, kind of hyper sometimes, always cracking jokes, being funny. And he was nice to me, let me hang out with him.

I remember he came over to spend the night, the three of us slept in sleeping bags on the floor. I was a little curious about guys by that time, but not really aware of exactly what I felt. Sean laid his sleeping bag next to mine, late at night in the dark we played some kind of silent game where he took my hand, held my fingers and touched himself with my finger tips. I felt weird about it, kinda nervous, but I didn't stop him. I did stop him when he tried to slide his hand inside my sleeping bag. I grabbed his hand and kept him from touching me. we didn't talk about it, I didn't tell anyone. I don't know if my brother was aware, or if Sean had tried anything with him.

Gradually he became my friend, and didn't spend time with my brother. I thought he was the greatest, we always had fun just hanging out. I remember sleeping over at his house, and him sleeping over at my house. Late at night in the dark he'd try to get me to mess around some more, trying to reach into my sleeping bag, talking about how good if feels to get felt up. I liked being with him, except when he'd want to touch me.

He got me interested in building model car kits, of hot rods, etc. He already had a cool collection. Once during a sleep over he stared talking about how he might give me some if I'd do what he wanted. I remember not saying anything.

This was when I was in 6th grade, going through puberty, realizing I was attracted to, or interested in guys. Sometime between 6th and 7th grade Sean came over when my parents were out with a bottle of whiskey. My brother was there, we tried mixing it with water, soda, listened to music, got a little drunk. I thought it was fun.

Later that year I'd hang out with Sean and get drunk. I was in 7th grade and getting ripped on vodka and orange juice. (How messed up is that? 7th grade?) Sometime during the winter I was at his house, no parents around, we got really drunk, or at least I did. I was lying on the floor and I had closed my eyes for a few, but I hadn't passed out. I felt Sean unbuttoning my jeans. I felt parlyzed, frozen, he was undoing my fly, taking out my penis and playing with it. Then I felt him trying to put the head of his penis between my legs, mumbling something about "it's not working". I opened my eyes and looked, he was stradling me, wearing a bowler had with some feathers in hatband, looking at me.

That image is burned into my memory. I shut my eyes again, he buttoned my jeans again. I laid there for a few minutes, we didn't say anything about it. I got up, said I needed to go.
I really liked him, thought he was really cool and I kept hanging out with him. I was realizing that I was attracted to guys but I didn't know how to deal with it, what it meant. I felt uncomfortable with the pressure, coercion of him trying to get me to do what he wanted. I was confused, I was kind of excited, unsure, nervous, ashamed.

[I was in 7th grade, he was in 10th, but he was supposed to be in 11th grade, said he'd been held back when his family had been moving around. Why my parents let me spend so much time with him, and him being so much older I don't know. ]

We'd hang out, he'd provide the alcohol. Later on that winter we got really drunk again, same thing happened, this time I touched him, with my eyes closed. He asked if I wanted to go upstairs (to his room). I don't remember saying anything, I just stumbled as he led me, I was totally hammered. He told me to take off my clothes and get into the bed, he did the same. I just laid there while he touched me, he told me to roll over on my knees and he stared to try to penetrate me, but couldn't, or didn't force himself.

I didn't know what was going on, I had never even thought about anal sex before. I was nervous, ashamed, confused. The room was dark except for the fading winter light outside, and the light coming in from the hallway, the door was partially open.

He rolled over and pulled he legs up to his chest, said "Wanna poke me?" (I feel gross writing/remembering that). I was sort of looking around, he said we could just beat off, so we laid there, stroking each other, As soon as he came I got up to leave, I lied, said I'd come too, started trying to find my clothes and pull them on. He was sitting on the bed, making conversation like it was no big deal. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I felt weird, nervous, ashamed, drunk, confused as I walked home.

I didn't hang out with Sean for awhile after that. We didn't talk about what happened, but he kept calling, coming over. My mom didn't understand why I didn't wasn't being nicer to him. He'd also come by at night and throw pebbles at my window to get me to come out and talk to him.
Eventually,later that summer, I did hang out with him again, he backed off trying to molest me. We never talked about it. What's confusing is I still liked him, wanted to spend time with him (not have sex with him).

Later I remember thinking I was gay but that I'd never want to mess around with anyone that much older. As I went through the rest of middle school and high school I sort of blocked out the experience. And spent less time with him, he graduated, went on to have drug and alcohol problems.

What I didn't realize til only recently is just how much he'd been grooming me since I was ten. It was all calculated, the alcohol was just a tool to lower my resistance. He recognized my early curiosity and moved to exploit it. Sure I was curious about the sexual feelings I had, and what my classmates were going through, but I'd never imagined anal sex, or oral sex even. It was overwhelming. Though I'm sure if I confronted him he would say I "wanted it too."

I remember being depressed and confused for big part of my teen years.

I think I learned indirectly that being gay, or gay feelings, were something to be ashamed of, not talked about or admitted to. I learned to hide my feelings,not talk about what happened to me.

I'll save the rest of my thoughts on how it affected me for another post.

Sorry this is so long, and for the triggering details, just writing it has been really tough, a lot of feelings, memories came rushing back. But it happened to me, it was real.

Digging in the dirt
Stay with me I need support
I'm digging in the dirt
To find the places I got hurt
Open up the places I got hurt
--Peter Gabriel