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A tale of rape, drugs and recovery in San Diego's LGBT community

It looked as though someone had repeatedly injected me and was very rough in doing so because the blood was streaming down my forearms.
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[Editor's Note: This is a raw and unedited account of one man's terrifying  journey, in his own words, into drug addiction and rape in San Diego]

This is a true story, it’s my story, the untold story that I have suffered from immensely for years now.

I was told to write about this in therapy and after three years I gave in because it was stopping me from trusting others, loving myself, allowing others to love me, hating my own community, the gay community, and simply put, eating away at my soul.

What you are about to read was done with the intent that no one human being on this earth would ever read.

The reasons I am choosing to share this are to help someone who has been through this so that they know that is does get better.

It can get better and you can survive. You may think what you are about to read doesn’t happen, but I assure you it is happening every day in the gay community.

When I decided I couldn’t live this way any longer, I started to research for other stories that were like mine so I could find hope.

I found two stories on the entire internet, two! Only one was similar to mine.

In fact, so similar that it did both good, and harmed my emotional state sending me into the deepest, darkest place I have ever been.

For a very long time I tried to convince myself that what happened was my fault, or wasn’t what I thought.

Reading this other person’s story confirmed one hundred percent that I wasn’t crazy, that I didn’t imagine things, and that somehow he made it through his trauma.

I am still very much struggling with all of this and I don’t have all the answers, but I can tell you that if you have gone through this and I know many people have, you are not alone.

Your struggle is real, and that you do not deserve to suffer. I am taking away the power from individuals that were in my life for 3 days, but have controlled my every thought and decision for 3 years now by my sharing this with you.

RAPE is a type of sexual assault usually involving sexual intercourse or other forms of sexual penetration perpetrated against a person without that person's consent. The act may be carried out by physical force, coercionabuse of authority or against a person who is incapable of giving valid consent, such as one who is unconscious.  – Wikipedia

That word. Rape.

The one word in the English language that I could never say, until now that is.

Even more difficult to say is the fact that I am a victim and survivor of rape. I remember watching “The Accused” with Jodi Foster in 1988 where her character was violently raped against a pinball machine.

These images haunted me for years, leaving me unable to even say the word rape, never mind discuss the topic, or ever watch another movie with this subject matter.

The movie left me scarred in many ways and with a partial and skewed understanding of the definition of rape and a misunderstanding that this can happen to men as well as women.

Fast forward to 2012. I am a 36 year old man, a gay man living in San Diego California.

Make no mistake, I do not claim to be perfect or without problems. I moved to California with quite a few non literal pieces of baggage.

Nonetheless, I had been living in San Diego for some time now as a transplant to the city as most tend to be. I was lonely though, even in this amazing city.

One night I had gone out to a local bar/restaurant called “Moe’s” with some acquaintances as we had done many times before, had a couple of drinks and went home, no one was awake to talk to, and that loneliness kicked in again and so online I went.

I won’t lie and say that I went online to just chat or make friends, although that was the main reason.

I was looking for one more component and simply put, I was looking for people to party with.

Yes, I wanted to get high, and do it with other people so that I didn’t have to be alone.

Fast forward to the present day two years into my recovery I now realize that I was not someone who just “partied”, but was, am, and always will be an addict.

Back to that night. The saying goes “be careful what you wish for because you might get just that”, and I did.

Within ten minutes of being online I met someone who immediately asked if I wanted to party {get high} with him.

We had a conversation for a few minutes before he was on his way to pick me up at my house. Looking back he was extremely polite, and accommodating to the fact that I couldn’t drive over there and had no drugs or money of my own. I should have remembered another saying at this moment, “nothing in life is free”.

He picked me up in a mid-eighties pickup truck. On our way back to his apartment I mention to him how thankful I am for him to pick me up and how comfortable it was to go with him because he seemed so nice.

I will never forget this, he said to me “I thought you were the guy with red hair”, but it doesn’t matter. To be honest, I didn’t care if I was the one he meant to pick up or not, I was going to get high with him and have a good night.

Within minutes we are at a large white apartment building in which he parked in the back of. I even remember that he backed into his spot.

We walk inside his apartment and head straight to his bedroom where he has a large amount of Crystal Meth, and needles (points) as we called them on the west coast.

He says “have a seat on the bed, I will get you set up”. As I sit down on the bed and say “thank you” (Addict or not, I have always had manners) he turns towards a set of doors to a large closet and said “oh great, he’s really nice”.

I remember my head being so cloudy from abusing Tina (Meth) so much at that point that I heard him say that but it never registered that he was not saying that to me, but someone behind those doors.

Once again he was very polite, considerate, and kind giving me the drugs I wanted and setting everything up for me and never asking anything of me.

I thought to myself, “Did I hit the lottery?” At this point in my abuse of the drug I was only shooting it and proceeded to do so. Now, I do not want to glorify drug use or specifically Meth, but there is nothing like it on this earth! When it hits you, you feel this insane warmth come rushing over your body ending in what feels like your entire body is exploding into an orgasm at the same exact time! It was not uncommon at all for people to get together and use, and not have sex.

Misery loves company though, so who else would I have gotten high with, the pastor from church?  

At this point my body is in pure ecstasy and while most people’s minds go to a faraway place where they are not coherent or aware in any way of what is going on, mine does not, ever!

My friends joke that I have the memory of an Elephant because I never forget anything.

I mention this because although at this time I am high, I notice he never does the drugs he had set up to slam [inject] for himself.

My heart is racing, and pounding. I am sweating profusely as one does when using this drug when he offers me Gatorade. This is very commonly drank due to the depletion of electrolytes and dehydration your body goes through while high on Meth. I can barely sit up on my own and he holds the glass for me to drink and even being that high I think to myself, “he is so nice, he wants to make sure I don’t get sick”.

I drink whatever amount he’d given me. Had I not been so high, I would have tasted, smelled or in some way noticed the GHB that I would later realize was mixed in the drink.

What is GHB?

GHB or Gamma Hydroxybutyrate (C4H8O3) is a central nervous system (CNS) depressant that is commonly referred to as a “club drug” or “date rape” drug. GHB is abused by teens and young adults at bars, parties, clubs and “raves” (all night dance parties), and is often placed in alcoholic beverages. Euphoria, increased sex drive, and tranquility are reported positive effects of GHB abuse.1,2 Negative effects include sweating, loss of consciousness (reported by 69 percent of users), nausea, hallucinations, amnesia, coma or death if taken while drinking, among other adverse effects. – Wikipedia

Keep in mind I had been drinking earlier in the evening and could have died from this mixture alone. I woke up at a later time to what I can only describe as a demonic piece of shit with my legs around him, and at that very moment I felt a sharp pain inside of me. In fact it was so sharp I thought it was a needle, which I could not make sense of.

I later realized what he was doing was shoving a large piece of Crystal Meth inside of me to an area of the body in which other than shooting up, will get you as just as high almost as quickly. I remember the big evil smile on his face as he was doing this.

His heavily pock marked face with his black and white Los Angeles Raiders hat on. I couldn’t move between the mix of all the drugs he had given me both while I was awake and under from the GHB.

Though my body was paralyzed between the drugs and worse, the fear, my eyes and brain were scanning and recording everything like a security camera. I only wish I was lucky enough to not realize, remember, or retain these memories. In this case denial or memory loss would have been a better option for me. I am envious of those that “ black out” from these types of things.

He got up and walked into another room returning shortly with a few odd items, one of them being hair clippers.

While laughing he plugged them in and proceeded to shave parts of my body simply for his own twisted amusement, and then went for the hair on my head while complimenting me and shaving it off.

He then pulled out a large pink marker from his pocket {yes, he is still clothed with the exception on his shirt} and starts to write on my stomach and face.

I will later see in a mirror that what he was wrote on my stomach was “fat, whore, and slut” and on my face, “ugly”. I weighed in at 150lbs standing 5ft 11” and while not looking my best, I’ve always been told people think I am good-looking , not my personal opinion, just what I am told. With that smile on his face, he starts to sort of giggle and tells me how good looking I am while his body language and sarcastic laughter lets me know he thinks otherwise.

I started to feel the extremely strong high of what he had just put inside of me and apparently I “fall out” (when you have too much GHB and you become unconscious) I wake up once again, not sure how much time passed at this point, but I notice that my arms are bleeding profusely.

It looked as though someone had repeatedly injected me and was very rough in doing so because the blood was streaming down my forearms.

I could NOT have done this because I was not even conscious! I remember at this point he was sitting in a desk chair at the end of the bed filling more needles with more drugs every once and a while looking at those closet doors that were opened just 4-5 inches wide and laughing.

He turned to me and said the thing I have feared second to nothing since I was a child in the eighties, “I am going to give you AIDS” and continued laughing….

He quickly sticks me with a needle and once again I fall back into euphoria.

This drug is so strong that it takes you from a situation as vile and sadistic as this was, and makes everything feel perfect.

He then takes my body and positions it so that my backside is specifically in view of these cracked open closet doors and then rapes me, over and over again....

He does this while talking down to me, saying negative things about my looks and my body, all while smiling, laughing and looking directly into my eyes as if he was getting off on every ounce of fear he could see in my terror. Immediately afterwards a second guy comes into the room with a digit camera and a cell phone.

I am absolutely and literally paralyzed in fear and do not even attempt to upset them by moving.

He starts taking pictures of this piece of shit smiling while raping me, laughing as if he too got off by every ounce of fear I exhibited. I am laying there too high and terrified to even think about moving.

There is nothing, and I mean nothing worse on this earth than the thought of this nightmare being documented.

The last thing I can possibly deal with is another human being witnessing this! Amazingly, at some point I am able to sit up.

I think it was the same fear that paralyzed me, my endorphins or survival mode, something got me to sit up on that bed. I couldn’t move farther than that for a while. This piece of shit asked me “would you like a cookie, brownie, or a cake? Insinuating once again that I was fat, and laughs in my face once again.

I stumble off the bed, to the floor for a while with my back against the wall. I can’t speak or move, I am again paralyzed in absolute terror!! I can only sit there and watch this second man with the cameras only inches away from my face.

I thought he was going to kill me or my heart would stop from an overdose of the drugs.

After about what I can only assume was an hour, I am able to barely walk out of that room and end up on the couch praying he will leave me alone and sure enough he sits down next to me, legs touching me, and his ugly fucking face is 6 inches away from mine. I am terrified, only an evil human being with no soul or conscience could do these things.

The fear that he was able to do these things to me all while smiling had me thinking that I was going to die there. I remember out of nowhere I started to cry and said, “Why, why are you doing this to me?”

His response will forever blow my mind.

He told me in short, that a friend of his that I’d previously got high with and had sex with, was upset with me for not doing what he wanted. Months earlier this person wanted me to move in, not work and “be his”, to which I said no repeatedly. This was his sick retaliation towards me.

Though their plans did not start off with me included as the night’s victim, once he’d picked me up and realized who I was, this was his chance to get back at me for hurting his twisted ego…

What makes me the most sick to my stomach every fucking time I think about this, is this. The friend he was talking about overdosed while using with me, alone, in his house where we had met just two months prior.

I remember he shot up so much meth that he immediately became unconscious in my arms. I remember having the thought of running away.

No one would know. He certainly wasn’t going to remember I was there, if he even lived at all.

I couldn’t leave him there and not do anything, even if I was to get in trouble that night. Long story short, I revived the same guy who would later set me up and have me raped, humiliated and tortured repeatedly for what turned out to be 36 hours long, while not only taking pictures, but recording every single moment.

As I sat on the couch crying one by one a group totaling 6 men walked out of the room I was just in ( remember those doors I mentioned he would talk towards?), all of them laughing at me while leaving the apartment as if it was the funniest thing they/d ever seen in their lives.

This waste of flesh told me a “story” while only inches away from my face of a boy named “Andrew”, who he’d claimed responsibility for making disappear after doing the same thing to him because Andrew had gone to the police and hospital after what they’d done to him.

Once again, with a smile on his face, he told me that he had downloaded my cellphone contacts and if I went to the police or the hospital that he would send all of the pictures and video to everyone I knew or find me and kill me.

He pointed at the door and said “see that square thing, walk through it and never say a word about this”. What I haven’t mentioned before to the 3 people on this earth that have heard this is that I didn’t leave because I cared enough about myself to live, because I wanted to die.

I remember having a nightmare that my dogs laid on my dead body waiting for me to wake up, and I never did. Since I have no family relationships in my life my dogs are everything to me! It was my love for them that made me drive across country to get them home to my ex-boyfriends house so they would be safe.

It has been a few years now. I am in recovery with Narcotics Anonymous, I went from Inpatient therapy due to attempting suicide, to Intensive Outpatient Therapy, and seeing my therapist 5 days a week.

My life has come so very far from what is, and always will be, my own personal hell -- and for that I am grateful.

I suffer from severe depression, anxiety and PTSD. Due to my PTSD I have not been able to have a relationship, date, have sex or even open up about my story, until now. I only hope that this helps me to start my healing process of letting go, taking the power away from these assholes and getting my life back.

Many can argue all kinds of things about what happened to me or why I am publicly discussing it. The first thing I bought for my new place in Connecticut was an inspirational wall hanging that says “every day is another opportunity to change your life”.

It has taken many days, many sleepless nights and so much love and support from the amazing people in my life that never needed to know what happened to me but were simply there, that I will get through this! I did not ask for or deserve any of this, addiction or not. I am still a human being, a very kind, caring, compassionate human being and no one, no one should ever go through this, no matter what!

I pray that each and every one of you that is suffering from any pain, physical or emotional, situational or from PTSD, that you find solace, strength and inner peace. This is my way of giving back to those that silently suffer, and my hope that it is time to break free from the prison I have been confined to for 3 years and move forward towards the happy ending I know I deserve……..

If you or anyone you know needs help with recovery or counseling resources contact The San Diego LGBT Community Center by clicking HERE, or calling (619) 692-2077.