Thank you all for your comments.
so - are you going to give us a detailed description of his outfit, too? (just joking!)
Hahaha. Lee - you know me too well. Of course I am going to say what he wore!..... but first.
I am not always this bad - it was my way of dealing with the stress and anxiety. (I took no drugs)
Reading over this again I have realised what is going on. Probably obvious to you all but wasn't to me. I just thought I NEEDED to feel 'all together' but when I reread it and your replies I realised how fixated I was on looking 'manly or masculine'. I know where this comes from:
a. As a child I was very effeminate and made to feel like a girl because other boys/men had sex with me and I was my mother's 'favourite' and did girly things with here (played with soft toys, sewing, flower arranging etc). I had blonde curly locks and big blue eyes and was often mistaken for a girl. (Gary's post about his brother reminded me of that). My dad and brothers called me all sorts of names (including 'leanne') and even some kids at school. I actually thought I was a girl trapped in a boy's body for a year or so. However as soon as I hit puberty I was unmistakably masculine and I worked it out.
b. when I grew to 6'2" at 13 I was extremely skinny for about a year. (Gecko's post reminded me of that) When I got muscles people (men) noticed me.
c. My need to assert myself as a strong presence that could NOT be taken advantage of anymore
The stupid thing about it was I was making such an effort to look like I didn't care that I would have looked just as good if I had fallen out of bed and thrown on a shirt.
I hadn't been to his house for 14 years. It was rundown, needed painting, yard needed mowing etc. At the risk of sounding like a snob I felt instantly like he was a lower class of person to myself (In reality I am not that sort of person - I do not care about money and possessions) I walked around the back and expected to see a broken down car in the back yard (there wasn't). I walked up his back steps, took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
When he opened the door I instantly felt sorry for him. He was a broken man - his life is pathetic. He had on an obviously new black polo shirt that hung off his sholders and sunken chest and clung to his big gut. He had on new camouflage cargo shorts and thongs (flip flops). He is 6' tall and has faded black hair which was freshly combed. He reminded me of Darth Vader at the end of 'Return of the Jedi' when his mask comes off. He was pale and had bags under his eyes. There was no life no vitality. I felt compassion for him.
I had planned to make a big deal about how despite what happened to me growing up I did not let it ruin my life and that I have a beautiful family and wife and a great lifestyle. But there was no point. I could see it in his eyes that he felt inferior to me and intimidated. The difference in our status in every way was like chalk and cheese. I realised I didn't need all that 'prep' work to 'beat' him. I already was the better man. He was by far more scared of me than I was of him.
We shook hands and he showed me around his house and told me his plans for fixing it up (when he can afford it)
I opened the packet of Tim Tams I brought with me as an ice breaker and he made 2 cups of tea......
I spoke softly but purposefully. I started by saying that what happened between us all those years ago was betwwen us and I wanted it to stay that way. I did not want him to let anyone else in the family know about my visit or any of the details we shared here. He agreed. I reassured him that I had no intention of filling charges against him and I wanted this to be healing for us both.
I felt like I was talking to a fellow survior. I let him speak first .......
I AM sorry for all the suspense but I can't handle talking about it in one go.
i just hope you didn't look so hot that he got any ideas... (did that cross your mind?)
If anything I thought it was a chance to say look what you can't have anymore and how empowering it would be to stop it.