I'm never quite sure where to begin.
My first "sexual" experience was when I was about 3. We had some workmen in the house and I was fascinated by them, but incredibly shy of being seen watching. There was something naughty about it. There's a whole lot more, but what it adds up to is that I think I was gay from a very early age, if not born so.
That would have been enough to deal with, living in a blue collar area where "queers" were not even mentioned.
I also came from a cold home. My parents had no affection for each other and little for us. I survived by living in a fantasy world. I would keep up fantasies for weeks on end, never losing the plot and getting every detail right.
When I was 13 I was in the turmoil of puberty, very shy and very confused about my sexuality. My fantasy world became warped by sexual feelings. I knew I was attracted to boys but tried very hard not to be.
I was a boy scout, mainly to get away from home. I loved camping and being around people that treated me as normal and with respect.
Then it all went wrong. One eveing one of the leaders, Phil, asked me to help in the storage hut. Once we were downstairs he got very close to me and tried to kiss me. When I pulled back he told me he knew I wanted it, he'd seen me looking at the other boys. He then offered me money. I hesitated. Oh God, how that moment has haunted me. He then pushed me up against the wall and slobbered over me and rubbed up against me.
He stopped suddenly and backed off. At the time I didn't understand what had happened. I was just relieved it was over. He made me promise not to say anything, threatening that my parents would find out I was queer. That was threat enough.
Life carried on, although i became even more introverted. I saw Phil every week and nothing was said or happened again. He even became friendly. I tried to avoid being alone with him. He didn't try to get me alone again.
Then we went camping. There was a big group, but one evening Phil wanted to go for a walk whilst everyone practised songs for the big camp fire the next day. Another boy wanted to come along, so I felt safe. The three of us headed into the woods. After a while he made us sit down and he started talking weird, about how empty his life was and how he didn't want to go on. I tried to talk him out of it. The other kid was freaked and headed back. I wanted to go to, but I didn't get up. I was worried about him doing something stupid.
The next bit is a blur, but he ended up on top of me. He told me he wanted to fuck me. He was pulling at my shorts and pushing me into the ground. I was hurting from the ground. It may see strange but my overriding thought was that people would know because I'd be covered in dirt.
At this point I phased out. I can't swear what happended or even say how long we stayed in the woods.I think he started to rape me there. We got up and headed down to the camp and went into one of the tents. I have vague idea that I suggested it. I think I was more worried about being found out than being raped. It must have seemed inevitable. In the tent I lay face down and let him get on top of me. I think I pulled my shorts and pants down myself, to keep them clean.In the background I could hear the boys singing. I can remember the blue of the tent and the singing. I went somewhere else until it was over.
Afterwards all I was concerned about was that everything looked normal. I think it was some hours before I took my shorts down again to feel the damage.
The rest of that camp is a lost memory. About a year ago my Mother found some photos of the camp. It stirred no memories. All I remember is the woods, the tent and being raped. I lived in a daze for months afterwrds.
As if I wasn'y screwed up enough about my sexuality, i was totally messed afterwards. I shut down completely. I pushed my friends away. I became nasty and selfish. I tried hard not to have feelings. I calmed down after a while.
It got to the point where I forgot about it. Then a couple of years later I was walking to schools with another boy. He told me about a trip he'd been on the previous weekend. The teacher had got his dick out and made them touch it or take a beating. He had touched it, although some took the beating instead. He was terrified about what would happen in school.
The teacher never turned up again, but there was lots of talk. The lads (an all boys school) were very mature about it all. But I sat there stunned. It had hit me - I was a victim of abuse. I had been raped. I couldn't associate the confident guy I had become with that.
It was about then I started drinking. I was still at school but started getting very depressed and used alcohol to get away from it all.
Over the coming years I would push the memory away for a while, only for it to come back and hit me in the face. I abused alcohol and miused friends.
It took me ten years to start to understand and to begin the process of healing.
Now I am okay. Not perfect. Still struggling.
My main worry is that there were other incidents of abuse that I've blocked out. At the moment I'm too afrid to find out.
But I have survived. I have a partner, a good job and friends.
exhausted but happy