Anonymous | Malta
Anonymous | Malta
I was born into a very good and loving family in 1964. I’m the 2nd eldest of five siblings and since there’s only a year or so in between all five of us, we grew up together and were very close and can say that we had a super childhood. My father worked very hard to support the family and my mother was a housewife but they always managed to find the time to help us grow and shared a lot of quality time with all of us. Winter was all picnics and family hikes when not at school and we were lucky enough to have a little Summer house In St. Paul’s Bay were the Summers were spent swimming almost all day.
It all started when I was about 7 or 8 years old when the new scholastic year started. I remember it was a mixture of excitement for the new scholastic year and the sadness of leaving the summer holidays behind but it was good to see all my school friends again. I’ve always had a female teacher right up until this year but this time it was a male in his very early thirties. He was very strict but he seemed nice enough so we had a good start to that year. Although I was young I noticed right away that he had a soft spot towards me because he used a much friendlier tone of voice to speak to me and he was very hesitant to punish me when I did something wrong. Back in those days, teachers did not hesitate to use the ruler on your palm if you failed to do a homework or something similar but one way or another he always excused me for any such behavior. One fine day I was going out with the other classmates for lunch hour and he asked me to stay behind because he needed to speak to me so I did. In so many words, he explained to me that I was not doing so well in Mathematics and that it would be best if I spent the lunch break in the classroom with him for some extra work. I can’t really remember if this was true or not because it was a very long time ago, but I wasn’t going to argue with a teacher so I must have agreed. I must admit that he was really good to me bringing me chocolate or sweets every day and he never as much as laid a finger on me so I got to like him too.
First term had passed and it was time for parent’s day so I accompanied my parents into the classroom with a little anxiety because you’re never too sure of what the teachers are going to say to the parents, right! I remember only too well that he stressed the point to my father that I needed private lessons in Mathematics and that school work was not enough because he needed to attend to other students so one to one attention would be very beneficial. He even offered to do it for free because he managed to convince my father that it was his pleasure to see promising students do well in all the subjects. I remember having a good cry in the car on our way back home because I didn’t want to waste my Saturday mornings locked up doing more school work. As if homework wasn’t enough back than since we were always loaded for the weekend. Still, my father wouldn’t hear of it, especially since he was offering it free of charge and us being 5 siblings had to struggle financially at times. Not that we ever needed anything but let’s just say we didn’t have all our wants.
So from this day forward all my Saturday mornings were spent at his house in a little office right next to the garage. I hated it at first but in a few weeks he gave me less work and started taking me out for a drive in the country and maybe get an ice-cream or something to eat. He started buying me little gifts, such as books on wildlife because he knew how much I loved animals. I was so enjoying the attention and right up until then, he never touched me. He had a pet name for me which he used only when we were alone. He called me the golden boy and told me never to tell a living sole at home or at school that we weren’t just doing school work and going out to places. I enjoyed this so it wasn’t a problem for me to keep this a secret. When it was time for the Summer holidays, he convinced my dad that it would be wise to keep giving me private lessons for at least twice a week and I was glad that my dad agreed to that. I remember doing just a little bit of work and later go out sometimes even to the beach but never anywhere near my Summer residence. He bought me a bathing suit so I didn’t have to tell my parents what we were up to. He always made it very clear not to tell my parents because all this will stop. He showered me with gifts and was always so nice to me that I didn’t want it to stop so I never said a word. In fact, at that age, it was all very mischievous and being the young boy that I was, I was loving it.
The trouble started one day after the beach when he suggested that I should take a shower before taking off my bathing suit and putting on my underpants. Since he was always discreet, I thought nothing of it and followed him to the bathroom at his house. I later learned that he lived with his parents and one sister and that they also had a Summer residence so we were alone in the house. He gave me a fresh towel and left the bathroom. I so distinctively remember him coming into the bathroom when he must have heard the water stop running and he grabbed the towel and asked me to step out of the bath. I was a little embarrassed but I didn’t know what to feel at the time because although I didn’t really have any sexual desires at the time, this form of intrusion was somehow erotic or so I thought. I remember him towel drying me and was very gentle doing it and took much longer than required. He was definitely excited because he was breathing heavily and I was getting a little scared than. I was obviously much shorter than him at that age and can still remember that he was kneeling on the floor in front of me when he was doing this. The next minute he came close to my face and kissed my lips very softly. I didn’t know what to make of this and felt paralyzed in fear but in a good sort of way somehow. He was not being rough towards me and I grew to like him over the months so I didn’t push him back. I wasn’t old enough to have sexual desires to either male or female at the time but all I know is that this wasn’t supposed to be happening. Still he was gentle and I let him carry on kissing me. By now he was exploring my whole body with his hands but he did not undress or make me touch him. He suddenly stopped and helped me to get dressed.
I laid awake in my bed trying to figure out what had just happened that day but also felt so ashamed of myself that I let it happen and it felt wrong. Really really wrong but I couldn’t tell anyone about it because I was such a bad, bad boy and I would definitely be severely punished. Days turned into weeks and although disgusted with myself, I allowed it to happen every time and every time it was getting more and more intimate. He showered with me and his erect penis touching my body excited me and I used to have an erection myself even though I was still a young boy. I had even started to look forward to seeing him and although he never tried to have sexual intercourse with me, we did perform sexual acts regularly. I even started lying to my parents about my whereabouts and he would come and pick me up in his car and go to his house to have sex. He told me that he loved me and that one day, we would run away together. It was all a mixture of feelings I had no control over and I even thought I loved him at the time.
So all this went on secretly for almost 2 years until one day I noticed that he wanted to see me less often and that he was making excuses for not turning up at all sometimes. At this time, I was no longer in his class because the teacher changed every year back than but I had noticed that he was being very friendly towards another boy in his class and that made me feel jealous somehow. I had told him about it and he said that it was in my imagination and maybe it was better not to see each other anymore since we were in danger of getting caught. I felt empty, cold and unloved and cried myself to sleep for weeks after this happened. I felt too ashamed to mention anything to anyone so I had to endure heartbreak and deal with my emotions the only way I knew how. That was shut down, so I tried my best to put all this behind me and continue with my life and studies the best I could. It worked, so life went on.
From primary school I moved to secondary school when I was about 12 years old and I was very popular with my friends and got good results so life was good again. Boys being boys, we started looking at girl magazines whenever we could get our hands on one, and we all made up make belief stories about having sex with girls and that sort of early teenage guys bullshit. The years rolled by and when I was about 14 years old, I had my first girlfriend. We got along really well and we did fun things together but when it came to kissing, a red alert switch came on taking me back to my days of abuse and suddenly I got turned off by any feelings whatsoever. This happened every time I tried to have a girlfriend and although I liked being with a girl, this put me off dating since I was making a fool of myself.
I later went to college and it was there that I met my ex-wife. She was the prettiest young lady I had ever seen and I was thrilled that out of all the guys, it was me she fancied so we started seeing each other. I tried to use all my willpower not to let my previous abuse effect this relationship because she was everything I ever wanted in a woman. Apart from being very pretty she had a brain and there was none of that girly stuff. She was fun to be with and we just hit it off immediately. I really did try to let go of the demons and it somewhat worked at first but as time went by, I used to get these visions and I’m suddenly put off if we’re trying to be intimate. She asked me several times what was wrong, but I always made up an excuse for one reason or another so it worked for a while. I thought of breaking up with her on numerous occasions because this was not fair on her but I really did love her but I couldn’t possibly tell her what happened to me because I was too ashamed and blamed myself for what happened. With all the ups and downs, our relationship survived and we ended up getting married at the young age of 21.
I soon found out that married life was a different kettle of fish altogether to when you’re not living together. Although we had the same dreams and goals in life, it was getting harder for me to perform in the bedroom to the extent that she suggested that we should see a sex therapist. I agreed but he couldn’t be much help because I was not being honest. It was one lie after the other so at the end we ended up giving up on him. Evil as it may sound, I remember one night I was lying in bed next to my wife and thought of the monster that did this to me. I even thought of getting out of bed, going to look for him and kill him with my bare hands. I remember crying in frustration that night but I somehow dreamt about him and woke up feeling fully aroused. I know it’s disgusting and terribly wrong but I reached for my wife and we made love properly for the first time in months. I realized afterwards that after all that happened, he was the only one that really turned me on physically.
Our daughter was born approximately 2 years after we got married and immediately afterwards, my wife fell pregnant with our son who was born just over a year later. Life with two young kids and our full time jobs apart from the daily house chores kept us busy and we didn’t have much time to think about much else. Although, I had this massive secret, life went on and I can’t say I was unhappy but it felt like one big fat lie. I started having a lot of mixed emotions towards my wife because although I loved her, she did not turn me on. I looked at guys that looked like my abuser in the same age group and got aroused so I had fantasies and used to masturbate on my own to fulfill this need. It frustrated me so much that I used to hit the wall or kick whatever was in front of me after I was done because I was disgusted at myself. I started thinking that I must be gay so I looked for men to satisfy my sexual desires only to leave me feeling angry and abusive towards them afterwards. I was a total mess and it effected my marriage so much that we had to separate after almost 9 years of marriage.
I went through approximately 2 years of severe depression and alcohol abuse and considered suicide many times but my children needed a father so I picked myself up and dedicated my life to them. I slowly saw light through my depression and by this time I was almost certain I must be gay. I started dating men and although odd, it was the only way to satisfy my physical needs. Life went on and I kept my private life in the closet and it somehow worked for a while. I later met a man and with all the obstacles and roller coaster emotions, he accepted me for who I am with all the baggage and damage. I never discussed my abuser with him or anyone because I still felt shame but although stormy, our relationship lasted for almost 10 years. I was abuse towards him and sometimes even violent because my mind was still a mess. The fact that he could take all this shit from me for so many years is still a mystery to me but he finally gave up on me. To this day, I don’t blame him. I blame all this to that monster that stole my childhood and turned me into another monster. I don’t even try to date anymore because I hurt people in the process. I have learned to live with the demons and concentrate on my real friends and my family.
I have tears rolling down my face right now because this is not how my life was supposed to be. My heart goes out for all those children out there that are being abused every day. It changes their life completely and I was overly protective of my children growing up for this not to happen to them. The thing is, that it can happen anywhere, even were you least expect it to. Telling my story is like a giant weight lifted off from my shoulders but it’s never going to erase the damage these monsters do to a person. I have learnt to live with this burden and although I still get my depressive moods at times, I can seriously say, I have learned to cope one way or another and am satisfied with my life.