I was exposed to sexuality early in life. I was taught that there was something wrong with me, nasty, if I became mildly aroused even innocently in the bath. I was taught that men were not worth much, that they were never around when needed. I was taught that it was OK to play childhood sexual discovery games with other boys but not with girls, boys never tell, it was our secret. I was taught that you never, never, never tell. I was taught that because I got an erection and ejaculated, I must have liked it, I was deviant. I was taught that it was my fault, I caused him to do that, there was something about me that attracted him.
These 'lessons' were seldom verbalized but I understood them very well. I grew up knowing that I could never tell anyone about what happened to me. They wouldn't believe it and anyway all it would prove is that I'm a homosexual. In 1958 in New Mexico that's the worst thing you could call someone, using all the derogatory terms of course.
After the abuse I changed. I was complemented for being so mature for my age, being such a grown up little boy. Like I had a choice! Maturity meant putting up defenses and displaying no emotions, smiling politely and not making a fuss. It meant doing good in school (but never good enough for me). Later on it meant getting drunk or high (but never drunk or high enough). It meant never feeling like I deserved any good thing that came my way, always waiting for the hook, the re-payment for the gift. It meant having an overpowering feeling that everything that I had or accomplished could go away in an instant if anyone ever found out about the real me. Everything I did or had was just good fortune anyway, I felt that I couldn't possibly have accomplished that on my own, I wasn't that good, that smart. I felt that I was a fraud and someday everyone would find out and I would lose everything dear to me in my life, my family and my job.
I realize now how slow and subtle the seduction was. How at every opportunity when he and I were alone the conversation would turn to SEX. What a forbidden, tantalizing subject for a 12 year old boy, curious about his changing body, questioning the changes and whether this was 'normal'. It started out innocently enough, he had to 'pee' while we were out hiking. He was much bigger than I was, he should have been he was a few years older that I was and I was curious. Weeks later it was I'll show you mine and you show me yours, still innocent stuff really. Then masturbation, then mutual masturbation, then he sat on my ankles so that I couldn't get away and starting putting his mouth on my dick. I told him to stop, I told him I didn't want him to do that, but he continued. I threatened him, I told him if he didn't stop that I would ejaculate in his mouth. He looked up at me and smiled and finished me off. Then he said that I had to do that to him. I felt so used, so humiliated, so shocked, so dirty. For weeks afterwards I tried to avoid him but he would come over to our house. I ended up alone with him one afternoon when no one else was around the house and he did it again. I decided that this must happen to all boys and nobody ever talks about it. It didn't stop until he moved away a year or so later. And I never told anyone about it for 38 years.
That's all I can write right now.
[ January 24, 2002: Message edited by: Stephen_5 ]
I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.
Kurt Vonnegut (1922-2007)