Nearly forty years on...

...and it still affects me every day.

To be honest, I don't know what I hope to get from this, but hope that putting it in text will help me (or anyone else, perhaps) get some form of relief. I think I'm writing this so I can vent a little, having realised how much it has impacted on me and my relationships. I may add further entries as I come to terms with things.

WARNING: There may be some painful/triggering items raised.

This all really started after my parents separated when I was about 12 - but is not due to that really. I didn't cope very well with the situation, but kept it all inside for the sake of my sister and dad. As a result, I went through quite a bit of a breakdown, which led to my spending 2 days in the local psych ward. A talk through my issues with a specialist resulted in a realisation that I needed some kind of escape, and this is where it all went wrong.

A contact of my dad's through his work (referred to here as P) was a leader in several organisations that worked with young people, and he offered to help. The fact that I was at school with his eldest daughter (of 3 kids) helped us all to accept the assistance. We had a few trips to local facilities to try out various activities like rock scrambling and kayaking, and I was able to "come out if my shell". All in all, things were starting to improve for me at that time.

As summer came in, camping trips further afield were planned, with P taking his folding camper. Initially both families went, but dad's work and my sister's lack of enthusiasm meant that was a one-off. That first trip was fun, with some time for open chats with P, that in hind-sight were the first signs of what was to come, but seemed to be my opportunity for some grown-up banter with a friend.

As we only had the two units (my family's small 3-man tent, and P's folder), it was decided that dad and my sister would use our tent, while P, his young son, and I would use one pod of the folder, and his wife and daughters used the other pod. After the youngster fell asleep, P and I carried on quietly chatting, keeping close to avoid diaturbing his wife and the girls, and I eventually nodded off still close in. I was woken up (I think at about 02:00) by P gently rubbing my leg, before his hand reached into my pyjamas. As he started stroking me, it became obvious that I was awake, and he guided my hand into his sleeping bag, and onto his privates. I wrapped my hand around him, and we quietly masturbated each other. This was only the fourth time I came, and it was an exciting point for me. I had never been a "manly" kid, and having had The Talk at school, I was already wondering if I was gay, and this seemed to cement this.

The relationship with P continued to develop (in secret, for obvious reasons) over the next few months. I was their go-to for babysitting the youngest kids when needed, with me often staying overnight, for the inevitable visit from P. I was convinced that this was an adult relationship, and would allow him to do whatever he wanted when we were together (even initiating things myself). Somehow, we seemed to be able to keep things hidden, even when P introduced a friend (C) to the mix.

I managed to end things (which with the advantage of years of hind-sight was possibly my greatest achievement) after an amateur photo session with P, C, and 2 young "friends" of C's. Surprisingly for me at the time, P accepted my decision, despite our 14 or so months of being together.

None of this was known to anyone, although I did tell some good friends and my wife that something had happened in my past. In 2019 I discovered that P had been convicted of multiple counts of similar offences before and after me. For a while, I felt that I could have prevented some of these, had I spoken up, which led me to seeking professional help before it destroyed my marriage. I still suffer nightmares and flashbacks occassionally, but things are improving.

If anyone is going through similar, please try to get help, and remember that you are not responsible.