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life story
Former Member
Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
in General Chat
anyone want to post their life story? even though for some of you it'll take a looooooooong time 
. Following on from theshyboyinthecorners confessions thread, I decided to write mine...
Well, it’s hard to think of things from my early years. I don’t remember that much, some people do, and some don’t. First thing I remember was when I was maybe five, although I’m not sure on the age exactly. I had my best friend, who was called Matthew Wilshaw. Matthew one day asked me to experiment with him, so I said in what way, and he said wanking and stuff, so for someone reason I said yes. I guess at the time I didn’t know right from wrong. Anyway we did all this sexual stuff. About a year or so later while this was still going on, another guy, Ricky, who I didn’t like followed me into the school toilets. I was scared of him, he asked me if I wanted to be gay, and I said yes. So then sexual things happened with him too. These things went on. Me and Ricky were okish with each other outside the messing about, and me and Matthew were still best friends. Matthew also got me into smoking when I was 8, the same age *I think* I discovered I was gay. All this continued to when I was about 9, when Ricky became on and off with me, basically he used me for sexual favours. Matthew remained my best friend. In the last year of primary school, when I was 10, me and Matthew became a bit rocky as far as our friendship was concerned. It was his fault not mine, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be my friend or not, and every time he came back to me I accepted him with open arms, as I still cared for him. I kept getting in to trouble at this time, I nearly got caught by the police for throwing stones at the windows of a derelict building. Mum tried to tell me Matthew was a bad influence, but I still wanted to be his friend. I rebelled against mum, to the point of me coming in one day and her smacking me round the head until I was on the floor.
Secondary school started. Things were worse than ever. Matthew was now my friend maybe once a week for about a day, and in that day he used to use me sexually. I made a few friends in secondary school, and the lessons were ok. Then Matthew got worse. He hated me. *note I just remembered Matthew used to get good deals for games off me because I gave in…so he used me there too*. Anyway, he hated me. And he made my friends hate me too. It was getting worse, each of my friends were turned against me. Me and Matthew got caught smoking at school. I stopped smoking after that, it scared me. I started not going to school, faking illness because I hated everything about school, and a lot of the problem was Matthew and the bullying. I started getting in trouble with mum for not going. I was going in one day a week, and that was more than enough. I couldn’t cope. Mum started giving me a hard time, forcing me into school. So I ripped up all my school clothes. Mum bought some more. I ripped up my school books, and then I ripped up my clothes again. Mum gave up, I refused to go, we talked about changing schools, and I agreed. So I got into St. Joseph’s RC High. Mum was so happy for me, but I was almost at square one, I had trouble adjusting back to school and I was going maybe two to three days a week, and I was getting picked on. The wagman (the guy who threatens you to stop bunking) spoke to me and I went to school every day until the end of term *for five and a half weeks*, which is probably the longest length of time I’ve ever been in school. Anyway I stopped getting picked on because I went to the teachers and I got some friends. At the end of year 10 ( I was fifteen) I was hanging out with Chris and I started hanging out with Nikky a bit. In the summer holidays I told everyone over the net that I was gay. The first day back I was shit scared. I went in and everything hit off. I got picked on badly, so I went to the teachers and it died down again, I stopped hanging round with the lads and started hanging out with all the girls (Nikky etc.). Everything was ok. I went to a car boot sale half way through year 11 (age…16), and I bought a teddy which I loved. I brought it to school the next day. I went to a quiet corner at lunch and started listening to my CD, and a few people took the piss outta me, and it gradually guilt up until about 50-100 people were shouting at me and a few of them hitting my back. At the end of lunch I walked home crying my eyes out. Mum was concerned but I wouldn’t tell her, and the social worker came round, I told her nothing too. Later that day I cut my arms badly, and I took some tablets upstairs to my room. I wrote a note, then came on the net to say goodbye. I ran into a couple of people from school, and they talked me out of it over MSN. I was still bad. Things picked up again, and the self arm became infrequent *I’ve only done it about five times*.
Things carried on as normal and I met a guy called Mike off gaydar. Mum was away so he stayed over, and things got sexual, he gave me a blowjob and he penetrated me briefly, taking great care. I liked it at the time but the next morning I felt really bad, and me and him haven’t met since, although we talk occasionally. My friend Gareth invited me to a dinner with a thing called the LGB (lesbian, gay, bi) club and this 41 y/o guy was talking to me. We went back to his and I stayed over. He said he was a counselor and I told him a lot of my life. He hugged me and it felt good because I hadn’t had a hug properly for a long time. I slept in his bed, we got sexual, well he did…we were hugging and he kept saying he had to go downstairs because he was getting excited. He ended up kissing me which was ok at first, but then I started to hate it, and I was scared. He gave me a blow job and a hand job, trying to make me cum, which didn’t work as I was scared. He kept kissing me and I reluctantly kissed back, his breath smelled bad. When he went downstairs I was so relieved. The thing that kept going through my mind was *he never got hard*, so surely he used me?
The next morning I left and I nearly committed suicide that day too. Things got better and I spoke to this guy called Rick, who I met through David, another friend. Rick was 31, and David 49. Rick came over and we had sex, he penetrated me, I didn’t do anything to him, I was shy… I liked it at the time, but he did it a bit hard and I hurt after. This was in a hotel. The next day I got depressed and walked out. I called him and went back, and he said David decided to come see us. That night I got drunk and David took advantage of that, he kissed me and stuff, and tried giving me a blow job when Rick was in the toilet. I *guess what…* liked it at the time, purely because of the alcohol, and the next day *guess what!* I felt depressed, but I wasn’t as bad as before…he was 49 remember. So that’s my life, one was 29, the next 41, the next 31, the last 49.
. Following on from theshyboyinthecorners confessions thread, I decided to write mine...Well, it’s hard to think of things from my early years. I don’t remember that much, some people do, and some don’t. First thing I remember was when I was maybe five, although I’m not sure on the age exactly. I had my best friend, who was called Matthew Wilshaw. Matthew one day asked me to experiment with him, so I said in what way, and he said wanking and stuff, so for someone reason I said yes. I guess at the time I didn’t know right from wrong. Anyway we did all this sexual stuff. About a year or so later while this was still going on, another guy, Ricky, who I didn’t like followed me into the school toilets. I was scared of him, he asked me if I wanted to be gay, and I said yes. So then sexual things happened with him too. These things went on. Me and Ricky were okish with each other outside the messing about, and me and Matthew were still best friends. Matthew also got me into smoking when I was 8, the same age *I think* I discovered I was gay. All this continued to when I was about 9, when Ricky became on and off with me, basically he used me for sexual favours. Matthew remained my best friend. In the last year of primary school, when I was 10, me and Matthew became a bit rocky as far as our friendship was concerned. It was his fault not mine, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be my friend or not, and every time he came back to me I accepted him with open arms, as I still cared for him. I kept getting in to trouble at this time, I nearly got caught by the police for throwing stones at the windows of a derelict building. Mum tried to tell me Matthew was a bad influence, but I still wanted to be his friend. I rebelled against mum, to the point of me coming in one day and her smacking me round the head until I was on the floor.
Secondary school started. Things were worse than ever. Matthew was now my friend maybe once a week for about a day, and in that day he used to use me sexually. I made a few friends in secondary school, and the lessons were ok. Then Matthew got worse. He hated me. *note I just remembered Matthew used to get good deals for games off me because I gave in…so he used me there too*. Anyway, he hated me. And he made my friends hate me too. It was getting worse, each of my friends were turned against me. Me and Matthew got caught smoking at school. I stopped smoking after that, it scared me. I started not going to school, faking illness because I hated everything about school, and a lot of the problem was Matthew and the bullying. I started getting in trouble with mum for not going. I was going in one day a week, and that was more than enough. I couldn’t cope. Mum started giving me a hard time, forcing me into school. So I ripped up all my school clothes. Mum bought some more. I ripped up my school books, and then I ripped up my clothes again. Mum gave up, I refused to go, we talked about changing schools, and I agreed. So I got into St. Joseph’s RC High. Mum was so happy for me, but I was almost at square one, I had trouble adjusting back to school and I was going maybe two to three days a week, and I was getting picked on. The wagman (the guy who threatens you to stop bunking) spoke to me and I went to school every day until the end of term *for five and a half weeks*, which is probably the longest length of time I’ve ever been in school. Anyway I stopped getting picked on because I went to the teachers and I got some friends. At the end of year 10 ( I was fifteen) I was hanging out with Chris and I started hanging out with Nikky a bit. In the summer holidays I told everyone over the net that I was gay. The first day back I was shit scared. I went in and everything hit off. I got picked on badly, so I went to the teachers and it died down again, I stopped hanging round with the lads and started hanging out with all the girls (Nikky etc.). Everything was ok. I went to a car boot sale half way through year 11 (age…16), and I bought a teddy which I loved. I brought it to school the next day. I went to a quiet corner at lunch and started listening to my CD, and a few people took the piss outta me, and it gradually guilt up until about 50-100 people were shouting at me and a few of them hitting my back. At the end of lunch I walked home crying my eyes out. Mum was concerned but I wouldn’t tell her, and the social worker came round, I told her nothing too. Later that day I cut my arms badly, and I took some tablets upstairs to my room. I wrote a note, then came on the net to say goodbye. I ran into a couple of people from school, and they talked me out of it over MSN. I was still bad. Things picked up again, and the self arm became infrequent *I’ve only done it about five times*.
Things carried on as normal and I met a guy called Mike off gaydar. Mum was away so he stayed over, and things got sexual, he gave me a blowjob and he penetrated me briefly, taking great care. I liked it at the time but the next morning I felt really bad, and me and him haven’t met since, although we talk occasionally. My friend Gareth invited me to a dinner with a thing called the LGB (lesbian, gay, bi) club and this 41 y/o guy was talking to me. We went back to his and I stayed over. He said he was a counselor and I told him a lot of my life. He hugged me and it felt good because I hadn’t had a hug properly for a long time. I slept in his bed, we got sexual, well he did…we were hugging and he kept saying he had to go downstairs because he was getting excited. He ended up kissing me which was ok at first, but then I started to hate it, and I was scared. He gave me a blow job and a hand job, trying to make me cum, which didn’t work as I was scared. He kept kissing me and I reluctantly kissed back, his breath smelled bad. When he went downstairs I was so relieved. The thing that kept going through my mind was *he never got hard*, so surely he used me?
The next morning I left and I nearly committed suicide that day too. Things got better and I spoke to this guy called Rick, who I met through David, another friend. Rick was 31, and David 49. Rick came over and we had sex, he penetrated me, I didn’t do anything to him, I was shy… I liked it at the time, but he did it a bit hard and I hurt after. This was in a hotel. The next day I got depressed and walked out. I called him and went back, and he said David decided to come see us. That night I got drunk and David took advantage of that, he kissed me and stuff, and tried giving me a blow job when Rick was in the toilet. I *guess what…* liked it at the time, purely because of the alcohol, and the next day *guess what!* I felt depressed, but I wasn’t as bad as before…he was 49 remember. So that’s my life, one was 29, the next 41, the next 31, the last 49.
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Comments
it feels right at the time and wrong after, maybe with the right guy it will feel right? I dunno..
Perhaps you should try, as TKOG said, try to get to know some friends and let them know you won't let yourself be used.
I'm always here or on msn if you want to chat...
And thanks to you (and lots of the other members of thesite) I'm on the road to recovery (not that I ever acknowledged I was fucked up
Thank you so much, and to all the other members of thesite who have helped, which is pretty much everyone who read my confessions thread or my rants in different places (except one or two who felt the need to express their unwanted views).
Either way I'm saying that I was pretty messed up and now I'm on the road to recovery because of you. And I'm sure that with the help of the people on thesite you can get to where you want to be.
*big hugs*
NO i shall NOT calm down :razz:
im in a very violent mood tonite
They may have been unwanted but they were valid points and peoples opinions on people who use child porn like you do/did.
sorry! I have said a few happy things, making friends with Nikky and stuff, but to be honest there is little happiness...
I suppose the key things are that:
1. I was brought up in a ‘functional’ family (parents stayed together, there was a regular income, we were never short of food, clothes, etc.)
2. There was no ‘violence’ in the home - or outside it, come to that. I wasn’t abused in any way. Not, at least, until I suffered a major trauma at the age of 18 (read on...)
3. I knew I was gay from about the age of 12. This was at a time when being gay was actually against the law, so you mostly didn’t know what ‘gay’ was - you couldn’t exactly READ about it in the papers, or see documentaries on TV. No-one would openly admit to being That Way, after all. They’d be locked up.
4. Um, and how do I put this? - I was never all that attractive. I’m still not, really, I guess. Don’t exactly get people pursuing me amorously down the street, and never have. I’m not UGLY - just OK-looking, ordinary.
5. As a kid, I was once described as having ‘missed my youth’. It was a teacher. Apparently, in my mid-teens, I was ALREADY behaving like an 18 year old. In fact, a lot of the younger kids at school thought I was already that age, and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t a prefect or something. I was Head Chorister in the school chapel when I was 14, for instance... I was basically a ‘good boy’. Looking back, I’m not sure that worked entirely in my favour.
ANYWAY, enough background.
Dad was in the Army. He was an ordinary bloke who liked the idea that his sons would follow him into uniform. There were two sons - my brother is three years older than me. I also have a sister, about four years younger. That makes me a Middle Child - whole books have been written about Middle Children!
From where I was sat, Pete and my sister had all the fun, while little old me was left to his own devices. So I walked the dog, and busied myself with my own company, and effectively said: “No-one understands me, so I’m not going to let them into my life.”
Of course, in one aspect - my gayness - I simply COULDN’T let them in.
Meanwhile, SCHOOL - was OK. Teachers loved me. I did my work, delivered it on time, and never kicked off in class. I was good at science but also pretty decent at languages. I also loved singing, and music generally. So, when it came to doing A-levels (the last exams at school before university...), I decided to be an Arts specialist, rather than a scientist, and studied French, Latin, German & Music.
I also liked Drama. Used to appear in end of year shows. One year, they decided to appoint a proper Drama teacher, and he came to see the summer show before he took on the job in the autumn. He wanted someone to take the lead role in ‘Murder in the Cathedral’ (his first project), and he ‘spotted’ me. Apparently my *cheek bones* did it.
Anyway, the show went fine. We became kinda buddies, and spent a *lot* of time together. It was nice to get the attention, after the loneliness of school itself. He bought me records and books and we got drunk on a diet of sherry and nuts ‘n’ raisins. That’s all, honest. Nothing happened otherwise. Least, nothing like *that* - ever. But he got to know everything about me, including my gayness. It was Our Secret.
This went on for a year and a half. Fast-forward to just before my final exams. He staged a show, and since I was busy with exams and also Head Boy at the time, I was only involved in the background (literally - I’d recorded the between-scene songs). But there was an after-show party. Once everyone else had left, we chatted. One of the other teachers, I reported, had said he was bored with the choice of school plays - they were all about religion, he’d said.
“... and you agree, I suppose?” Er, no, I hadn’t really thought about it.
“... I see - so now no-one likes me...” Look, I’m only the messenger, ferchrissakes!
“...”
I told him we were both drunk. We’d chat over things the next day, I said. And I left. I never managed to see him the next day, as it happened. I was busy. Exams and stuff.
And that night - he killed himself. Twenty-eight barbiturates, then his head in the gas oven, for good measure. You could do that in those days.
When he didn’t show for classes the next day, I kinda *knew* what he’d done. I raised the alarm. I stood in for him, running his classes, while staff went berserk. One teacher called me into the corridor, in a right state, and asked *my advice* about what had happened. Hell’s teeth - I was only a pupil... And then it was confirmed. He was dead, history.
This is the horrible thing. Believe me, it’s horrible. I was PLEASED. The bastard was out of my life, finally. He’d crowded me, possessed me, guided me but cramped me, and finally I was free.
Except that I wasn’t. Because I knew it was my fault. I hadn’t Been There for him when he needed it. I was ... dangerous. This was my first close friendship, and my friend was dead because of me. Don’t wanna go through that again.
This was 30-odd years ago. I’ve had one long relationship (gay). Lasted ten years, amazingly. But I wasn’t really *in* it. It always seemed temporary, except that it went on and on. And then it ended, 15 years ago. And there’s been virtually nothing ever since, until recently. I shut up shop. Until recently. I’ve tried to Be There for people, help them through the hard times, but I haven’t let them into my life. Until recently. And now I’ve opened myself to the possibility of ... something deep and emotional and long-term. I’ve advertised online. I’ve *looked* for friends. I’ve taken the RISK of being hurt, and maybe hurting in return - because that’s what they say relationships involve: Risk.
I’ve already made what seems like a hash of one potentially important friendship. I’ve hurt a number of people in the process. Makes me feel like shit. They’re still alive, but even so. But I’ve got to keep plodding on, even at my age. Because (I tell myself) I’m worth it.
Everyone’s worth it.
... Running out of steam here. My Life Story started so well, too. Ah well. Your turn now...
What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger I think
My life.
Born.
School.
Work.
Kid.
Marriage.
More Work.
Spilt up.
More Work.
Get back together.
Still working.
Mmmm Wonder what the future holds? :chin:
yeah damn right you made a hash of a friendship, even though it wasn't 100% your fault....this my friends is david...the 49 y/o i nearly had sex with
borberboy
Bloody paedo.
ouch...
Its true. Ive said it to you many a time, the people you are dealing with are equivalent to paedophiles as far as im concerned.
Not all of them. Him yes.
Anyway what to people telling me their life stories? There are only two and one doesn't count to me
Face it, you were 15 and they were a lot older. Thats odd. You dont get many 15 yr old girls with 49 yr old men do you? Thats sick as it is. Why should blokes be different?
Born fine blah blah parents fine erm..when i was 8 my gran died (8yrs on stil havent dealt with it) wen i was 11 my nana died(dealt with better) also 11 my brother got ME/CFS sucked erm.. 15 started self-harmin stil doin it leadin up to now.alot of my 'friends' have used me im pretty messed up in the head but u kno thats life and i think ive been pretty damn lucky.
xxx
I was 15 with the 29 year old and 16 with the rest. I made that clear.