Secrets have a way of coming out – which is exactly why you won’t catch me hiding anything that could blow up my existence if it did.
These 15 people are hiding some doozies, though, and I sure hope they managed to keep them buried for a long, long time.
15. If more Americans knew this they would be more excited to learn a second language.
I speak two languages so every time I received a new essay I would browse the topic in my own language and translate the text word-by-word to English then submitted it.
No one ever caught me for plagiarism before.
14. Kids and money, man. Sheesh.
Ok, so this is a secret I’ve kept for nearly 20 years.
During the summers when I was growing up, my parents would often leave my brother and I(I’m male) with our aunt and uncle who lived out in the country. It was great as they had 4 sons of ages close to ours so we had a lot of fun doing kids stuff.
One summer when I was 8, the oldest cousin was maybe 16. We somehow got talking and he asked me if I wanted to sleep in his room that night. He has the nicest room and bed so I was all for it. Got into bed and he asked if he could touch my p*nis. I was 8 and just thought it was ok so I let him. He rubs it for a bit and then asks me to do the same to him. So I do. This progresses and eventually I’m sucking his cock. I think I knew this was wrong so I said I didn’t want to carry on. We stop and I goto sleep quite confused.
I wake up and he hands me some money and tells me never to tell anyone about what happened. Next night he tries to do the same thing.. But now all I care about is the money. So I do it. This carried on for 2 summers.
Eventually I got old enough to realize it was quite wrong regardless of the money and stopped.
I’ve not told anyone this. He’s now married with 2 kids. I’m also married and we see them sometimes at family events. I don’t have the ball$ to even try and talk to him about it.. Hell I’m not even sure what I’d say.
I’m sure this will get buried but just getting it off my chest makes me feel better.
Tldr I was a gay child hooker.
13. Sometimes everything works out for the best.
I don’t want to be with my girlfriend anymore, but she might have cancer and I feel like I need to stay in the relationship.
EDIT: I have seen 50/50!
EDIT: Hey so I thought I replied to this a few weeks ago (today’s date is 11/4), but I can’t seem to find where I replied. She’s healthy and I split up with her before we found out. Yay for life working out!
12. PTSD is real, no matter what caused it.
I used to be a Police/Fire/911 Dispatcher, but had to quit because it nearly made me suicidal. I actually had thoughts, but had to drive 40 miles to go to a center/hospital where no one knew me for help. I have nightmares about a few calls I took where the caller killed themselves, shot someone else, or passed away on the phone with me. To this day, a few years after resigning, I still can’t listen to a phone ring, or sirens go off without having a mild panic attack. I am fairly sure it’s a form of PTSD, with flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, and an inability to function sometimes, but I’m embarrassed and scared to tell my fiance, or go to a doctor for it. I know there are soldiers out there with real PTSD that deserve help far more than me… I am very good at hiding it though. I also sometimes wait until my fiance goes to sleep, and I will then go sit and pretty much cry for several hours. It’s hell.
TL:DR – I exhibit a lot of the symptoms of PTSD, but I’m scared to get help for it because I don’t think I deserve to be diagnosed with something like this, as in my mind, I was never in any real danger.
EDIT: 1 year later: For those of you who still message me about this… No, I did not seek help for my problem. Soon after I made this post, my fiancé left me, citing the fact that I “made her miserable”. That was a huge blow, because it meant that I was effectively homeless, since I wasn’t able to afford rent in our shared home. I was then forced to quit my job, move several thousand miles away, and live in a cot in my grandmother’s house. I found that I was massively depressed, homeless, jobless, overweight, and severely suicidal. My ex-girfriend refused to help, and I was utterly, sincerely, totally, alone. But, I fought… I couldn’t afford treatment, so I went ahead and began exercising my body, and exorcising my demons. I fought, long and hard, to eat right, to not have the urge to end my own life, and to be someone. I ended up losing nearly 120 pounds, getting into the best shape of my life, and kicking my depression in the ass. Today, one year later, I’m normal weight, I have a gorgeous new girlfriend, and I recognize that I needed help. So, future reader, let this be a lesson to you… the things you try to hide, the things that can and will destroy you if they get out, will destroy you eventually. Face your demons, fight, fight, fight.
EDIT 2: 9/19/13! Yes, I still check this account! Thank you to whomever gifted me reddit gold! I appreciate it sincerely. Second, and most important of all, the reason I check this account is because it is still generating amazing comments to my inbox. I really do love all of them, and I’m happy to have helped. I’m fighting to get to a better place in my career, and I’m living a very healthy and happy life now. I’m working harder and more focused than I’ve ever been, and I’m currently down 130 pounds. I ran my first 5k a few months back, and my nightmares and panic attacks have gone away totally. Again, never take the easy way out, folks, because there just isn’t one. I’ll leave you with my favorite quote:
“…Do not by any means destroy yourself, for if you live you may yet have good fortune. But, all the dead are dead alike.” -CS Lewis
Thank you all.
EDIT 3: 6/12/14
For those of you asking how I am, or giving me encouragement via the PMs, a sincere “thank you”. There are days where I log into this account, see an orangered and use the wishes inside as my secret fuel to get through a tough day. I’m down 150 pounds total now, and I jog, bike, hike, and find whatever activity I can to keep myself occupied. I’ve got a wonderful job in a field that I love, doing all kinds of interesting research, and I’m now the guy in the office that brings in the donuts on Fridays. It’s a funny turn-aournd. Sometimes, my old life seems like it was a bizarre and hazy bad dream (to use the washed-up phrase), but I can’t ever forget that it was real, because there are so many lessons that my time in that dark place taught me, and so many lessons I feel like I want to share with others.
Finally, there are some things that I never shared with you folks about my story, such as when I mentioned initially that I was living with my grandmother… as tough as that was, 2 months after I moved in, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and I helped with her care until the very end. I know I had my problems, but when a dying person that loves you with all of their heart tells you that no matter what, they’re proud of you, you can’t help but smile and carry on through anything. She passed away a year ago today, hence this post; it’s kind of a thank you to her too.
My fiancee tells me that I should write a book about this whole thing, so that’s what I’ve started to do. Might as well put that English degree to use, right? I hope someday you’ll all get the chance to read it, because so many of you helped to inspire it. Again, thank you all, from the bottom of this heart of mine.
(PS: For those of you curious as to why I chose this username, it’s because it’s harder for people to quote you in other sources if you have a name like this… heck, the original thread was all about anonymity. lol)
Thank you all.
EDIT 4: 5/7/16
We just bought a house. I honestly can’t believe it.
I sat down in the bare living room last night, (no furniture yet), and I looked down at my wedding ring, looked around at the house, and broke down into tears. No one in the world, save for you kind folks, and my wife, know how close I was to ending my life. How much I thought that I was nothing.
I could hear kids playing down the street, feel the air blowing through the open window, and ponder the hard work it took to get to “normal”. I appreciate even the smallest thing now.
It was all worth it. It’s always worth it.
I just wanted to say “Hi” again to everyone. I’ve been getting quite a few PMs lately, and they are still the most beautiful thing to me. There are so many people all over the world that have similar stories and have come through it all better than before. I guess that’s the point of this whole post: Life is what you make of it, and no matter what situation you find yourself in, or what setbacks you face, the only real constant to the whole messy thing, is that you haven’t failed until you decide that you’ve failed. If you get knocked around, and you find yourself face down, miserable, lonely, and with nothing left, it doesn’t have to be the end. It’s a weird and funny concept to many people who feel like it can’t ever get any better (trust me, I know what it feels like), but you are truly in control of your own destiny. If you keep hitting dead ends and dark paths, don’t give up. Never give up.
I’ve been sitting and staring at the first chapter of my little book for the last year and a half. I want to tell a good story, but I don’t have an ending… Maybe that’s the point? Part of me wonders why anyone would want to read about a lower-middle class guy with some loose skin, and an office job who smiles too much. Part of me also thinks that’s the kind of book that I’d love to read… I kinda like that there’s no grand parade at the end, it fits me.
So, my wonderful friends from all around the globe, I love you. Thank you joining me on this journey once more, and remember that the journey isn’t always easy, but if you want it to be meaningful, that journey is always worth it.
EDIT 5: 12/24/2017
I wanted to stop by and tell you all that I (we) are still doing great! 5 years later, and it looks like the changes I made an effort to create in my life are permanent. Those changes are not holding fast because of me, it’s because of the support system I set up around me. My SO, my habits, my hobbies, etc, all keep me occupied and mindful. Yes, I still have bad days, and yes, I still have days where I need to make a conscious effort to be positive, but it’s always so worth it. I really just wanted to come in and tell every last one of you that 5 years ago I was alone on Christmas Eve, crying on a ratty couch, watching A Christmas Story alone, wondering what life is all about. Today, I’m sitting here with my wife, a pair of dogs, a fire, in our house, contemplating how close I was to the end, and how I can help folks in the same spot right now. You, if you’re reading this, you really do fit in somewhere. I know you do. Out there, in this great wide universe, is someone or something that needs you right now. It might be hard to see it, and you may think it’s impossible to ever find it, but you just need to try. Try for yourself, your family, or for that someone that could use you and what your bring to the world right now. I know that even at your lowest point, you can still be a beacon to other people. I know, because some of you, even at your lowest points, have dropped me quick messages to just say “thanks”, and they always make me smile… they ALWAYS help. There’s some really, really amazing people in this world.
Merry Christmas, all!
PS: Yes I’m still writing that book!
11. I hope things have gotten better.
Everyone thinks I have a good job and roommates but I’ve been homeless and a prostitute for over year.
10. This is just yikes on so many different levels.
Two and a half years ago I was in dire financial straights, so I sold my home to keep my struggling business afloat. I neglected to tell the owners that they have an 800 sq. ft. bunker on the property that I built about seven years ago. The bunker that I’ve called home since I sold it. The entrance to it is well-hidden, but I still come and go very early/very late in the day.
I’m a single man who keeps to himself. I’m now in a situation where I could move somewhere else, but I love this hidden paradise so much.
9. I want to know if this is someone famous so bad.
I cut off all contact with everyone I know and moved to Kenya, I tell people a F*ke name and a F*ke background and have made it appear to my family that I died on boat trip in the Pacific. No I am not joking. I am dead in the United States.
8. Ooooh devious.
I once helped out my a female friend’s family by taking care of their cat for a week.
Every day for a week, I would go over there and snoop around their house.
I found my friend’s diary, and proceeded to read the entire thing.
I used this information to get her to like me, and she is currently my wife.
7. That’s quite the secret to live with my goodness.
I F*ked the last two years of college education.
My parents put so much pressure on me I couldn’t handle it (I was suffering from severe depression and anxiety) so I F*ked it all. Lied to everyone. Made up F*ke transcripts.
I just got my foot in the door in my desired field thanks to a friend as they hired me as a subordinate. This place only hires college grads but no one double checked my credentials since I was recommended.
My hopes is that if I need to find another job I’ll have been at this place long enough to get it by experience alone (I work for a very prestigious company). I’m not bad at my job. I’m actually quite good. But my fear is eventually I’ll hit a wall and the lie will come to light. No one has known this for the better part of a decade.
It’s a relief to finally say it “out loud.” I can’t even tell those I love. My silence is my prison.
6. Kind of puts your IT guy in a whole different light.
IT guy here, it’s amazing what people will do on their computers and say in their emails despite having to sign a waiver that all computer activity at work is monitored and recorded.
I have half the company’s banking, social media and personal email account info and passwords. I know who is secretly banging who at the office behind their spouse’s backs. I know who is cybering at work and jerking it in the bathroom almost daily. At least they tell their s^x chat partner they’re running off to the bathroom to j^rkit, haven’t felt the need to check the validity of that one. I know when people are having martial problems, financial problems, I even know one person here had their children taken away because a social worker found cocaine in their house. I know who is embezzling money, I know when people get fired for completely bullsh^t reasons (like they just want to replace them with someone younger and nicer on the eyes), and I know who my boss is buying xanax and vicodins from.
Basically I have a treasure trove of my coworker’s secrets. I won’t actively do anything with this info, but it’s nice knowing I have the ammunition there if something were to ever happen.
5. I wonder if his wife knows.
[Background, I’m a guy in my late 20s who was taken into care aged 7.] Everyone around me already knows that I was brought up by foster families because I had a sh^t early childhood. I deliberately keep it vague and say stuff like “I’d rather not go into it” so that people will just assume I was abused in some way and they’ll stop asking about it.
The truth is that for the first 7 years of my life, I was brought up as a girl by my pshyco birth mother who really really really wanted a daughter and didn’t let the snag of giving birth to a boy stop her from trying to raise one.
She was a pretty successful professional in a legal field (not entirely sure what) and had me via anonymous sperm donor from a fertility clinic. She found out i was a boy at a late ultrasound and then moved across the country. Gave birth to me at home and continued to move about until I was 5 or so. It was just the two of us all my life, we had contact with other people, of course, but they rarely got very close. I had lots of friends, but was always supervised.
I found out way way after that my mother’s strong puritanical christianity was a lie she used to explain why she was so strict about me being ‘private’ and never letting anyone see me get changed or anything. i just acccepted all of this as fact, having never been told anything different.
I was sent to a religious school for girls and had a really great childhood. i was a bit of a tomboy, and played with lego and toy animals, rather than dolls and stuff, but that’s not unusual and no one ever questioned i was a girl – even me. Iknew about men and women, but had never really seen much of naked people. my mother never ever spoke to me about it, but i kinda had the impression that when i grew up and got bo*bs and stuff, my d%ck would kinda fall off or something and i would be a woman, and other kids would keep their d%cks and they’d be men. I dunno, to be honest, i never really thought about it
Anyway, I carried on with my happy girlhood, and had a bunch of friends and everything was great until i was 7 and a teacher accidentally spilled a cup of hot coffee over me at school. the liquid soaked through my clothes and was scalding me so the staff immediately stripped me out of my dress and underwar to get the hot coffee away from my skin. And then they found out.
the cops were called and i got taken to speak with who i guess would be Social Services. they asked me a bunch of questions about life at home and stuff. meanwhile, my mother was taken in for questioning too. she refused to acknowledge me as male and insisted i was her daughter. because she was, y’know, delusional and stuff, i wasn’t allowed to go back home but got put with a foster family and went through loads of therapy and stuff.
The worst part was that literally overnight, i lost EVERYTHING. my mother, my home, all my toys, all my clothes, i moved school so lost all my friends, they cut all my hair off and told me i wasn’t a girl any more. it was really really traumatic.
the first forster home wasn’t that great. they had three boys already and going from a sheltered ‘releigious’ only-child upbringing to a rough-and-tumble testosterone-filled environment was really difficult. they tried to force me to e masculine and i was just too confused about what they wanted. anything ‘girly’ was reprimanded and i felt so lost and alone because nothing i did was right.
i tried to commit suicide when i was 11 and again at 13 becuase i didn’t feel i fitted in anywhere. After the second attempt, they moved me to a different foster family who were awesome. I consider them to be my parents. they actually stood up for me, the first thing was that they et me grow my hair. from when i got taken into care, they buzzed my hair short, and i hated it. they always had to hold me down and do it forcably while i was crying and fighting. my new parents flatly refused to do it and said that loads of boys had long hair. they also let me quit karate and football and take up swimming and jazz dance. since i’d been in care, no one had ever stood up for my right to choose what activities to do, or how to dress before. it was amazing.
in the end, i came out of it with a pretty healthy gender identity (i’m a guy, but not th emost butch guy ever, but i’m fine with that), I went through school and got my degree and have a pretty good job and an amazing, supportive wife. everythign looks great.
but i can never speak about my early childhood, and how i grw up as a little girl.
TL;RD: I’m a guy and let people believe i was raised in care because i was abused when in fact i had a great childhood except that my mother tried to raise me as a girl.
EDIT: holy cr*p, I never expected such a response. Have finally remembered the password I used for this account and am answering any questions I find. Thank you, reddit!
4. Baking is a piece of cake!
I run a cake business. I charge people hundreds for wedding cakes… Every last one is made using Pilsbury cake mix I buy for $1 a box at Walmart.
I suck at baking.
Every time I’ve ever tried to make a cake from scratch it sucked. But baking is like.. My whole deal. My friends all call me the cake girl. It’s like my whole life is a lie.
People compliment my cakes all the time. Telling me how delicious they are. Telling me it’s so much better than box mix cake. Telling me they could never bake a cake so delicious.
Well guess what? For $1, they too can make a cake just as delicious. Just add oil, eggs and water.
In my defense, I love cake decorating. I make all of the frostings and fondant from scratch. I just hate baking f*cking cakes!! I base my prices mostly on the decoration of the cakes and not of the cake itself of that makes sense. Still… No one knows about this except my husband. Even my best friends think I f*cking slave over the oven mixing and baking these damn cakes. I have been doing this for YEARS. If anyone knew my business and reputation would be in the toilet for sure. :/ I keep telling myself I have to learn how to make the damn cakes without the box mixes, but I never do it. I feel like such a sham sometimes.
Edit-holy sh^t I didn’t expect such a response to this! I feel better about it thanks to a lot of these comments!
Funny, I started this account as a novelty account and got bored of googling random cakes to post as comments lol Seemed perfect for this confession!!!
Edit 2: months later I receive messages almost daily on this account. I am so glad I used a throwaway. I forget to check this account most of the time and rarely see this stuff until weeks later.
That said, to answer the main questions- yes I know I can order cake mix online, but I don’t make enough cakes for it to be economical. It’s actually more expensive to order online. Honestly, I’m not incredibly worried about people seeing me anymore. If I ran into someone I would tell them that I was helping my niece with a bake sale or something.
I have, since this thread, made some cakes from scratch. I’m still using box mixes for chocolate and vanilla. Oh and red velvet because f*ck all of that.
Let’s see what else, oh right, I’ve received probably 100 comments saying “The cake is a lie.” We get it. It’s very clever, but no, I’m sorry, you’re not the first, second, third or twentieth to say it.
Overall, I’ve learned this is actually pretty normal. And that people from all over the world have a friend who makes cakes and they all think I am their friend. So far no one has pinned me, but you guys had better check your friend’s cabinets for Pilsbury mix 😉
Edit Wednesday June 17, 2015
Alright kiddos. Here I am. A friend texted me and said my people need me hahaha. I guess there was a thread that got big and mentioned this thread. Here’s your update!
I actually no longer make cakes. I got a divorce and moved into a much smaller home. At that point I had no place to decorate cakes. I was also really burnt out. It’s an incredibly hard art! Very time-consuming and requires a lot of tools and space.
About a year later, I moved in with my now boyfriend. We have a pretty big kitchen. I wanted to sell my equipment and tools and the billion giant cake pans I have, but he convinced me not to. He said I should keep it on the back burner for a while and see if I want to do it again later. He didn’t know me when I was a decorator, but he saw the photos and told me it would be a shame if I never did it again.
I want to share some photos, but it would so easy to trace them back to my old cake blog. Maybe I can find one or two photos that were never posted there.
Edit- January 2018 Once in a while these “reddit lore” posts pop up and someone mentions my confession and I think to check this account. I’m incredibly tickled to be a part of reddit lore!
I have a sort of hilarious update at this point. About a year and a half ago I was diagnosed with a wheat intolerance. My intestines decided they no longer wanted to digest wheat anymore. Woooo! I actually just thought I was dying for a few months. It was really stressful.
Anyway, I can’t even f*ckin eat cake anymore. I still have all of my equipment and whatnot. I make a quick cake now and then. But trust me when I say gluten free cake mixes are better than anything I could make from scratch lol. Here’s a cute little cake I made for my birthday last year. It’s not amazing, but it’s not bad considering I rarely make cakes anymore.
I still receive SO MANY messages on this account. I’m sorry if I don’t reply, but I never check this account. I’ve got everything in that inbox from people trying to guess who I am, to people giving me recipes, to people begging me for cake photos and one guy who wanted a video of me eating cake ?. Yikes.
Anyhow, I’m getting married (again woooo second time is a charm!) to a dude I met on reddit. And our wedding planner asked me to please not try to make my own wedding cake because she has seen it end in stressful disaster so many times. Im going to take her advice and leave the cake making to someone else!
(I do know reddit and I know some of you will call bullsh^t on this update, but that’s fine lol. I literally have no reason to lie and with all this personal information someone will probably finally realize who I am for sure haha)
Update February 23, 2019
The never ending editing lol.
I hadn’t logged into this account for over a year, but I saw someone mention me in a thread so I logged in real quick. A zillion messages in the ol inbox. Sorry… I don’t really have advice on how to start a cake decorating business. I just did my best and was mostly given business by word of mouth. Lots of people messaging to tell me I ripped people off. I mean… not really. People f*ckin loved the cakes and when it’s all said and done a box of cake mix plus all the stuff it takes to make it into a cake probably cost around the same amount as the raw ingredients. And people loved the cakes so that’s whatever. Lots of people asking if I would be mad to find out that my wedding cake was made with box mix. No? Lol. Also i was not charging anyone bakery prices. Anyone giving me a few hundred dollars was paying me to make a massive cake that took me days to assemble and decorate.
Also my wedding was fantastically fabulous. We got a gluten free cake from Milk Bar and I paid another bakery $400 to make us a beautifully decorated two tier cake for the guests to eat. Everything was amazing.
Oh and here’s some fuel to fire all of y’all’s weird hate lol. I found this at the grocery store the other day. I’m over here about to ice up some gluten free box mix cupcakes. ?https://i.imgur.com/mPii0yW.jpg
Ps pls don’t give this account gold. I login to it like once a year. Save your money. Donate it to a charity or something instead. ❤️
October 2019 edit- I can’t believe I can still add edits to this. Weird. Anyway, things are great! I haven’t been baking much dessert, but I’ve been working on some gluten free french bread and it’s going okay! Some people have messaged asking my my marriage. My husband is awesome. He’s really the best and it feels awesome to be with a partner who treats me as an equal.
I have a lot of weird messages in my inbox. Some of y’all need therapy.
I almost did an interview for a podcast on reddit lore, but I chickened out, sorry lol. I’m just not great at doing interview kinda stuff and was afraid I’d be super weird about it!
3. Some people don’t deserve to be called a friend.
When I was 13, during the summer before I started high school, I was molested by a guy who dragged me into an alley, backed me into a corner so I couldn’t escape (and even if I’d tried to, I couldn’t have because he was taller and stronger than I was), and pulled my pants down. I tried to draw attention to where I was because I’d gone over to a guy’s house with my friend because she liked him, and when we went he just happened to have a friend there to hang out with me while they went off and did whatever. Anyway, I tried to shout and make as much noise as I could and the guy goes “This would be easier if you were laying down” and tried to force me to the ground. Then my friend finally shows up and goes “Omg -MyName- what are you doing?!” and the guy obviously doesn’t go “Oh yeah no I was trying to rape her this was my idea”, but instead goes “She was trying to have s^x with me hahahahaha” and just walks away. Then my friend doesn’t believe me when I tell her he DRAGGED me into the alley because she’d disappeared well before anyone could see him pulling on my arm with both hands and me trying to resist it as much as I could.
I never told anyone because I didn’t want them to react the same way my “friend” did. I think about it a lot and every day I say “Maybe this will be the day I finally tell my parents what happened” and then I never do. That was almost 6 years ago. My “friend” and I no longer speak, but I’d stopped being friends with her maybe 5 or 6 months after that because she told a couple of our other friends that I tried to have s^x with a guy I’d known for all of 5 minutes during the summer.
2. I hope he knows it wasn’t his fault.
When I was 17 I had a argument with my father and told him to f*ck off, later that evening he hung himself. Our argument was the last time he spoke to anyone in our family and for that I feel a terrible amount of guilt for. Instead of him saying good bye and I love you to my mom and brothers he got told to f*ck off before he went and killed himself. My punishment is to live the rest of my days in shame and guilt. He never left a note either.
1. It’s so hard to move past it without speaking about it.
I can’t bring myself to type it out again, so copy/pasted the relevant part from the other place I posted this.
I can’t promise coherence, even after all these years it still cuts deep, and I’m probably going to wind up rambling like I did the first and only other time I talked about it.
10 years ago, when I was 7, my parents worked shift work in the military. Since their schedules didn’t match up very well, it wasn’t uncommon for them both to be working a 2pm-2am shift. As such, I had a babysitter. She was an old friend of my mother’s, wonderful woman. She was the type who seemed to have the compulsion to feed everyone who came through her door. Matronly is the word I’m aiming for I think.
Anyway, she and her husband, along with their adopted daughter, were Christian. I tagged along to church with them a couple times, but it only furthered my atheistic leanings, which had already been in place. In time I politely turned down the offer to accompany them, instead staying home with their adopted son. At the time he was about as old as I am now. We shared similar interests– namely, playing Super Nintendo games and listening to loud music. Since the house was free of anyone to complain about it, we did so with abandon.
I honestly don’t remember how it started anymore. To the best of my recollection, he asked me to go with him into the bathroom to show me something. I was 7, naive, and he was a cool guy I looked up to. Naturally, I followed without question. The first time, he showed me what masturbating was. At the time, of course, it was just “how to get your thing hard” but whatever. A few times after that, we’d do that when the others left, then go back to our gaming. Something always clawed at me, the feeling that something was wrong. He was older than me, though, and he was cool– it must be what the cool kids did, right?
Slowly but surely, though, he escalated things. At first it was mutual masturbation– I still didn’t really know what was going on, but I jerked him and he jerked me. It couldn’t stop there, of course, and eventually built to him blowing me. After that happened a few times, he wanted me to return the favour. Again, I still didn’t really grasp what was going on, but I tried. I hated the taste, and wound up refusing. After that happened a couple times, he would force me. I just started to… go blank, I guess. I wouldn’t do anything, I wouldn’t think or feel, I just let him use my mouth until he was satisfied and would j^rkinto tissue to finish himself off.
This went on for a while until my babysitter began to grow suspicious. He had made me promise not to tell anyone about our “special time”, and at that age a promise was something you didn’t break for anything. That said, I just denied anything being wrong anytime my babysitter asked. Eventually she grew too concerned and, despite knowing nothing for certain, had my mom find an alternative sitter. Since then, he’s gone through therapy. He admitted to having issues, apparently, but never spoke a word of what actually happened.
I’m pretty sure it f*cked me up good, honestly. I never really properly appreciated the deep scars sexual abuse leaves on a victim until I looked back on my life with that in mind. I buried it for years and tried to pretend I was normal, but I was definitely different. I was a lot more melancholy, and have had a few streaks of depression. I’ve never really been too certain of my sexuality. I’m scared to death of sex, honestly, and I think it’s because part of me is afraid that I’ll wind up just as abusive as he was.
It helped a lot, opening up to my girlfriend. It doesn’t haunt me like it used to, and I don’t always feel like such a fre*k. It’s helped strengthen our trust, and she’s agreed to take things as slowly as I need to to be comfortable. I’ve since stopped feeling so totally emasculated, as well, and it’s almost something of a joke to me now. I know, rape isn’t funny. The thing is though, you’ve gotta be able to joke about it, even if only to yourself. If you can laugh at something, you can move past it. I can’t help but chuckle when I’m arguing with someone and they tell me to suck a d%ck or something to that effect. I can laugh at my own pain, so I can move past it. I don’t think I’ll ever be who I might’ve been if it hadn’t happened, but I’m okay with that.
Realistically, I can’t even say I’d change it if I could. I’m fit, intelligent, in love and generally happy with my life. It was terrible, yes, and traumatic, but at least I know this path can lead to happiness. Take the evil you know, right?
Anyway, that’s my story. It’s long, incoherent, and doesn’t really have a proper end, but take it how you will.
Tl;dr: Played Nintendo, sucked d%ck, everything turned out okay.
I mean yikes. I don’t know if I could do it.
Do you have a big secret? Do you want to tell us what it is?
That’s what the comments are for! You know what to do!