The Ultimate Selfish Act
Hello, guys, it's Bobby again. I know, I know, will he never shut up? I'm not sure. These things just keep popping up in my brain and I want to know how you feel about them. When you've lived bottled up with this stuff as long as I have and you didn't even know what the stuff was, just that it was stuff, you want nothing more than to say it out loud and hear someone say something back to you about it. It doesn't matter if they agree with you or not or even if they think what you said was stupid or not, although that can sting. You just need to get it out and take a look at it, and you can't do that by yourself. You have been confused about it long enough and you need to wrap your brain around it from a different perspective. That's what this is all about. I don't know how long it's going to be, but I figure that, if it's too long, you'll fall asleep in the middle of it and wake up and have to do something else and never get back to it, so I haven't done a lot of harm.
So far I have written safe stuff here. I have written completely honest stuff. I have written very, very painful stuff. I have said things here that I have never said out loud before. I have a genuine compassion and caring for everyone whose posts I read and it's not unusual for me to cry while reading one. I cry for you and I cry for me and I cry for the universal almost unbearable pain that we all share. I say all this because it's important that I state my honesty before I say what I'm going to say, because I'm going to talk about the dishonest things. God knows I'm either going to be really sorry for this or really glad I did it. We'll see.
One of the things I need to do here is to learn to trust...all of you. I know that is totally silly because you can't trust all of anybody, and even though I sound naive and open, I don't trust a single soul in the whole wide world completely. Why should any of us? My abuse came from my dear old dad. If you can't trust Daddy, who can you trust? So I'm warry...of everyone. But, you see, I'm so very tired of being on guard. That takes so much energy that I could be putting to good use somewhere else. I'm so tired all the time just from trying to keep myself safe from people...especially men people. Every man is potential danger to me. That's every man in the whole world. I never met a man I didn't fear.
So, what I really want to do is walk out in the middle of a room, take off all my clothes (not pretty) and symbolically slit myself open from head to toe and just let everything flow out on the floor. For those of you who must watch those things, what I just said has nothing to do with suicide. "Symbolically" was the important word there. I want everyone to see every part of me. I don't want anything left. Take pictures, write it down, do anything you want. I simply can have and want to have no more secrets...not any. I am a good person. I AM A GOOD PERSON. I AM NOT DIRT. I AM NOT DAMAGED GOODS. I AM NOT ASHAMED. But you see, I am ashamed,really. And I do think I'm dirt and I don't think I'm a good person...well part of me thinks that and the other part of me would argue the point. So, if I could just let you see every last part of me, then I wouldn't have to worry that you might see every last part of me. That scares me just to think about it. Maybe I don't want to do that at all. So I selfishly am going to tell you about every last part of me. Even though this is anonymous, that's very brave of me, or very selfish. But then, you're not really a captive audience except for those of you who must read this to make sure I don't say the wrong things. To you I apologize. I am going to talk about the things that most embarrass me and the things I most want to hide. Then it will be done. Maybe after that you won't even have to see rambling stuff from me anymore. I won't have anything more to say...yeah, right like that will happen. The ultimate conceit...to think that anyone cares.
Let's start with sexuality. I'm really embarrassed about my sexuality. I'm old enough that I was brought up to believe that gay was really awful. Gay people were weird. Gay sex was never talked about, so I didn't have any concept about how bad that was, except that God never intended for men to do that together. Gay men were just weird in a sort of non-descript, fuzzy, weird sort of way. There was never a specific gay person around. They were just a "they" sort of group. And then I was one.
Well, sort of. I was in a closet for 33 years. I don't know how to explain it, but when you're in a closet you are and you are not gay. You know you're gay and, when a cute ass walks by, you definitely make a note of it, but, because you are in a closet and do not intend to do anything but make notes about cute asses, you are not gay. Gay people throw their notes away and pursue cute asses. So even though you're gay, you're not. Understand? This is an important point to a little boy from a very small mountain town who was brought up thinking about a fuzzy "they" sort of people. And then I came out of the closet, but not really. You see, I didn't have any gay sex for all of those 33 years. Yep,just noted cute asses...and looked at "Hustler" magazines. You can look at "Hustlers" when you're in the closet. They show the men as well as the women and you can pretend to look at the women when you could care less and really be looking at the men while you say what a babe the woman is.
So, there I am out of the closet. I have told everyone I care about. I have really partially destroyed some of them, especially my wife and kids, and I am doing nothing about being gay. I wish I had never said anything. What was the point? Now everyone knows your a distant fuzzy person and your life hasn't changed at all, except that you've lost a few friends and your family is devastated. Good work, Bobby!
I HAVE HAD A GAY EXPERIENCE!
Yep, I have. This internet guy who was 76...he didn't say that and he looked younger...75?...said he would meet me for lunch to "talk" about my problems with being gay. I really thought we were going to have lunch and talk about my problems with being gay. Well, on the way to the restaurant, he put his hand on my leg and worked it up and up and up and I was gone, completely. Someone was in the candy shop and I was the candy. I had no control at all. Oh, I went willingly, and we didn't do a whole lot, but I was devastated...completely by the fact that I had done this. I feel that even at 55 I had been abused yet once again. I had no control and he knew that. He also knew that, when I started out, I had no intention of doing anything sexual. It may be rationalization, but I sure felt taken advantage of and was suicidal for several days, finally ending up at a gay church because I knew they would have to take me in.
And now I have no idea which I am. I would love to be straight for all of those who want me to be, but on the other hand I spent 33 years in the closet noting cute asses and part of me wants to meet one up close and personal just once before I die. I'm ashamed of that....not because I think it's a bad thing, but because it would be a violation of my marriage vows.
One Down.
I AM ADDICTED TO PORN. I think. Well, maybe not. Well maybe. The only thing in the world that I really obsess about is so bad that even when I'm slitting myself from head to toe and letting you see, I will not let you see that. It is a weird form of gay porn, and all I want to see. I am positive that it was what was done to me when I was sexually abused and that that is why I obsess about it. There is no reason to otherwise because it is not sexy one bit at all. I'm not even sure I try to fight the addiction. It is something I need...but isn't that what all addicts say?
Two down.
My life only started four years ago when my memories of child abuse began. I have thrown out the rest of it...sort of. I consider any history before that to be a false history...the history of a man who didn't exist...someone who was made up by a little boy who had no intention of participating in life in any way. It was like a puppet on a string who didn't know he wasn't a real live boy.
three
I'm afraid of all of you. I don't trust you. I appreciate you. You have said and done some wonderful things for me since I've been here, but I'm still warry. God help me, I want nothing more than to just drop all of my barriers and let you in, but I can't. I can share every last part of my story with you...I can tell you about all of my pain...I can tell you the horrible things that were done to me by my father...but I'm still afraid some way. I'm afraid of who you are. I'm afraid that one or two of you might be so injured that I won't know what to do or how to handle it if I get involved with you. I know that 99% of you are just who you say you are and are harmless, but I'm just damaged enough to be afraid that you are damaged in a different way, a little dangerous way...and I'm so sorry about that. I don't like myself for it. I am in anguish every time a thought like that goes through my head. It's not that I really think that anyone is dangerous. It's just that the fact that that is a possibility is always there.
I am so sorry about that and mostly for me.
Four
I am afraid to let you know that I love you. It is the most wonderful emotion a person can have. I am very immature...a little boy really...and a man at the same time. I know exactly how I should relate to people here, but my little boy doesn't. My little boy wants so much to love and to be loved....ah hell...so does the man. That is all so confusing...and when you put that together with worrying about your sexuality, you get so confused you just don't know what to feel. When I read the stories, I really do love the little boys whose stories are being told, and I want to hug them and hold them and make it all right. I want to be that strong man for them that I dreamed would come and save me all my life. I know they're men now, but that's not who I see. I don't see a man telling a story. I see a little boy being sexually abused. That's the emotion I feel. But I can't say that I feel that way because it would be misinterpreted and I know that many of you have exactly the same trust issues that I have and would be afraid that I was one of those guys you needed to watch out for. I can't tell you how many times I have wanted to say "I love you" to someone who is hurting so badly that I almost can't stand it, but don't say it because it will be misinterpreted. I really do love the guy and his little boy and feel the pain he is going through. "I'm here for you" just doesn't cut it for me, but that's what I say. No, tomorrow my emotions will not be so intense. I'll have concern and caring. But at the moment that that little boy is hurting and crying and suffering, what's not to love? And I want to say it. But I won't. My need to say how I feel is much less important than the needs of the guy who is suffering and I can't risk saying something that will make him uneasy when what I am trying to do is make him feel better and safer in this wonderful safe place.
So, there it is. There is more, but you have been saved by the fact that I work on an "as needed" basis and have just been called and am needed. There's something nice about that. I know this was a selfish posting, but this is an honest place and I have to get it all out. We were taught by our abusers that we were shameful people, and we are not. We have nothing to be ashamed of. I will not let him keep me trapped by my shame. Bobby is not my real name. You know that. That is the final truth I must eventually tell to be free. Some of you can do that. I envy you so much your freedom from shame and your self esteem to be proud of who you are. I'm getting there. I'll get there. You'll know I'm there when I can sign my real name. Thank-you and, damnit...I really do love you all. Bobby
So far I have written safe stuff here. I have written completely honest stuff. I have written very, very painful stuff. I have said things here that I have never said out loud before. I have a genuine compassion and caring for everyone whose posts I read and it's not unusual for me to cry while reading one. I cry for you and I cry for me and I cry for the universal almost unbearable pain that we all share. I say all this because it's important that I state my honesty before I say what I'm going to say, because I'm going to talk about the dishonest things. God knows I'm either going to be really sorry for this or really glad I did it. We'll see.
One of the things I need to do here is to learn to trust...all of you. I know that is totally silly because you can't trust all of anybody, and even though I sound naive and open, I don't trust a single soul in the whole wide world completely. Why should any of us? My abuse came from my dear old dad. If you can't trust Daddy, who can you trust? So I'm warry...of everyone. But, you see, I'm so very tired of being on guard. That takes so much energy that I could be putting to good use somewhere else. I'm so tired all the time just from trying to keep myself safe from people...especially men people. Every man is potential danger to me. That's every man in the whole world. I never met a man I didn't fear.
So, what I really want to do is walk out in the middle of a room, take off all my clothes (not pretty) and symbolically slit myself open from head to toe and just let everything flow out on the floor. For those of you who must watch those things, what I just said has nothing to do with suicide. "Symbolically" was the important word there. I want everyone to see every part of me. I don't want anything left. Take pictures, write it down, do anything you want. I simply can have and want to have no more secrets...not any. I am a good person. I AM A GOOD PERSON. I AM NOT DIRT. I AM NOT DAMAGED GOODS. I AM NOT ASHAMED. But you see, I am ashamed,really. And I do think I'm dirt and I don't think I'm a good person...well part of me thinks that and the other part of me would argue the point. So, if I could just let you see every last part of me, then I wouldn't have to worry that you might see every last part of me. That scares me just to think about it. Maybe I don't want to do that at all. So I selfishly am going to tell you about every last part of me. Even though this is anonymous, that's very brave of me, or very selfish. But then, you're not really a captive audience except for those of you who must read this to make sure I don't say the wrong things. To you I apologize. I am going to talk about the things that most embarrass me and the things I most want to hide. Then it will be done. Maybe after that you won't even have to see rambling stuff from me anymore. I won't have anything more to say...yeah, right like that will happen. The ultimate conceit...to think that anyone cares.
Let's start with sexuality. I'm really embarrassed about my sexuality. I'm old enough that I was brought up to believe that gay was really awful. Gay people were weird. Gay sex was never talked about, so I didn't have any concept about how bad that was, except that God never intended for men to do that together. Gay men were just weird in a sort of non-descript, fuzzy, weird sort of way. There was never a specific gay person around. They were just a "they" sort of group. And then I was one.
Well, sort of. I was in a closet for 33 years. I don't know how to explain it, but when you're in a closet you are and you are not gay. You know you're gay and, when a cute ass walks by, you definitely make a note of it, but, because you are in a closet and do not intend to do anything but make notes about cute asses, you are not gay. Gay people throw their notes away and pursue cute asses. So even though you're gay, you're not. Understand? This is an important point to a little boy from a very small mountain town who was brought up thinking about a fuzzy "they" sort of people. And then I came out of the closet, but not really. You see, I didn't have any gay sex for all of those 33 years. Yep,just noted cute asses...and looked at "Hustler" magazines. You can look at "Hustlers" when you're in the closet. They show the men as well as the women and you can pretend to look at the women when you could care less and really be looking at the men while you say what a babe the woman is.
So, there I am out of the closet. I have told everyone I care about. I have really partially destroyed some of them, especially my wife and kids, and I am doing nothing about being gay. I wish I had never said anything. What was the point? Now everyone knows your a distant fuzzy person and your life hasn't changed at all, except that you've lost a few friends and your family is devastated. Good work, Bobby!
I HAVE HAD A GAY EXPERIENCE!
Yep, I have. This internet guy who was 76...he didn't say that and he looked younger...75?...said he would meet me for lunch to "talk" about my problems with being gay. I really thought we were going to have lunch and talk about my problems with being gay. Well, on the way to the restaurant, he put his hand on my leg and worked it up and up and up and I was gone, completely. Someone was in the candy shop and I was the candy. I had no control at all. Oh, I went willingly, and we didn't do a whole lot, but I was devastated...completely by the fact that I had done this. I feel that even at 55 I had been abused yet once again. I had no control and he knew that. He also knew that, when I started out, I had no intention of doing anything sexual. It may be rationalization, but I sure felt taken advantage of and was suicidal for several days, finally ending up at a gay church because I knew they would have to take me in.
And now I have no idea which I am. I would love to be straight for all of those who want me to be, but on the other hand I spent 33 years in the closet noting cute asses and part of me wants to meet one up close and personal just once before I die. I'm ashamed of that....not because I think it's a bad thing, but because it would be a violation of my marriage vows.
One Down.
I AM ADDICTED TO PORN. I think. Well, maybe not. Well maybe. The only thing in the world that I really obsess about is so bad that even when I'm slitting myself from head to toe and letting you see, I will not let you see that. It is a weird form of gay porn, and all I want to see. I am positive that it was what was done to me when I was sexually abused and that that is why I obsess about it. There is no reason to otherwise because it is not sexy one bit at all. I'm not even sure I try to fight the addiction. It is something I need...but isn't that what all addicts say?
Two down.
My life only started four years ago when my memories of child abuse began. I have thrown out the rest of it...sort of. I consider any history before that to be a false history...the history of a man who didn't exist...someone who was made up by a little boy who had no intention of participating in life in any way. It was like a puppet on a string who didn't know he wasn't a real live boy.
three
I'm afraid of all of you. I don't trust you. I appreciate you. You have said and done some wonderful things for me since I've been here, but I'm still warry. God help me, I want nothing more than to just drop all of my barriers and let you in, but I can't. I can share every last part of my story with you...I can tell you about all of my pain...I can tell you the horrible things that were done to me by my father...but I'm still afraid some way. I'm afraid of who you are. I'm afraid that one or two of you might be so injured that I won't know what to do or how to handle it if I get involved with you. I know that 99% of you are just who you say you are and are harmless, but I'm just damaged enough to be afraid that you are damaged in a different way, a little dangerous way...and I'm so sorry about that. I don't like myself for it. I am in anguish every time a thought like that goes through my head. It's not that I really think that anyone is dangerous. It's just that the fact that that is a possibility is always there.
I am so sorry about that and mostly for me.
Four
I am afraid to let you know that I love you. It is the most wonderful emotion a person can have. I am very immature...a little boy really...and a man at the same time. I know exactly how I should relate to people here, but my little boy doesn't. My little boy wants so much to love and to be loved....ah hell...so does the man. That is all so confusing...and when you put that together with worrying about your sexuality, you get so confused you just don't know what to feel. When I read the stories, I really do love the little boys whose stories are being told, and I want to hug them and hold them and make it all right. I want to be that strong man for them that I dreamed would come and save me all my life. I know they're men now, but that's not who I see. I don't see a man telling a story. I see a little boy being sexually abused. That's the emotion I feel. But I can't say that I feel that way because it would be misinterpreted and I know that many of you have exactly the same trust issues that I have and would be afraid that I was one of those guys you needed to watch out for. I can't tell you how many times I have wanted to say "I love you" to someone who is hurting so badly that I almost can't stand it, but don't say it because it will be misinterpreted. I really do love the guy and his little boy and feel the pain he is going through. "I'm here for you" just doesn't cut it for me, but that's what I say. No, tomorrow my emotions will not be so intense. I'll have concern and caring. But at the moment that that little boy is hurting and crying and suffering, what's not to love? And I want to say it. But I won't. My need to say how I feel is much less important than the needs of the guy who is suffering and I can't risk saying something that will make him uneasy when what I am trying to do is make him feel better and safer in this wonderful safe place.
So, there it is. There is more, but you have been saved by the fact that I work on an "as needed" basis and have just been called and am needed. There's something nice about that. I know this was a selfish posting, but this is an honest place and I have to get it all out. We were taught by our abusers that we were shameful people, and we are not. We have nothing to be ashamed of. I will not let him keep me trapped by my shame. Bobby is not my real name. You know that. That is the final truth I must eventually tell to be free. Some of you can do that. I envy you so much your freedom from shame and your self esteem to be proud of who you are. I'm getting there. I'll get there. You'll know I'm there when I can sign my real name. Thank-you and, damnit...I really do love you all. Bobby
