I was mollested by my brother from age six and up until I was sixteen. That was ten years of hell, brought on by sodomy. Once the Stockholm effect wore off, I learned to hate gays.
I had countless journal entries in which I'd written entire essays about the evils of homosexuality and the 5,001 reasons that I hated them. I didn't only hate them, I was terrified of them. If someone came out to me, I would refuse to speak with them after offering a few choice words about the effects of sodomy on the soul.
After a very defining and traumatic point in my life, I was left in an extremely ugly mental state. Not long afterward, I found an addiction to sodomy (my psychologist explained this as a digression back into my childhood) and not long after that, I found my first girlfriend and we got back together.
She put me through hell.
Everything I did was either wrong or ungodly because I wasn't enough of a man for her. She was suffocating me.
Furthermore, the sex was simply disgusting. The fluids that women excrete disgust and terrify me in every way. I couldn't stand it. Due to my disgust in combination with my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (a result of the sexual abuse) I would scrub myself raw after every sexual encounter. My supportive, loving ex would tell me I'm being a wimp and that I need to learn to please a woman.
I don't know why I started hanging around "boy's town." I would watch them every day. Something about them simply fascinated me and still, I made a great effort to be unapproachable.
That was where I met Roger.
It started small. He would counsel me. We would talk about my relationship and why it bothered me. He posed an interesting question. It went something like this,
"So, you say you're distgusted by the sex. Was that the case when you were addicted?"
He used events in my own life to make me question it. Subtly, he convinced me of the obvious fact that there was nothing wrong with what was going on around me. Eventually, I was more eager to go out to see him than I was to go home to my girlfriend. That eagerness rapidly developed from an enjoyment of everything he had to offer; insight and enlightenment, to a desire to see him because he was the only one who really cared about me and who really helped me to so much as begin to recover from what I'd been through.
It has been about six months since then. The girlfriend is gone. I am with Roger. I am 22 and I finally know that I am gay. Roger once told me that the first and hardest step of the "coming out process" is coming out to yourself. I could not agree with him more. Yet, in six months I've gone from being terrified and embarassed by an infatuation to being madly in love and very open about it. On Thanksgiving, I see my final obstacle: baby brother (Who was also scarred from our older brother's sexual abuse). I'm hosting the party and I'll be sure that before the end of it, my entire family knows.
The brother who raped me already knows. He laughed at me. He said he only did that because he was young and stupid and insisted that I've never grown up. He isn't even worth the time to respond to. what he did to me forced me into a very dark closet. I attempted to kill myself twice. I've injured myself more times than I can count. I've been out drinking more times than I can count. Finally, the hell is over.
I am gay and I am in love. There is not a feeling on Earth that can truly compare to it. I have fallen harder than I knew was possible. I am completely enthralled by him and finally, I don't feel the need to be involved with a female, which was the equivalent of self-torment.
There is a very good chance that he saved my life.