Alright, so, this is Mackinac Island. A small resort island in the Great Lakes. I’m going to share with everyone a story about what happened to me there.
But first let me say, this isn’t a memory I’ve thought about recently. I was reading a book yesterday called Suicide Notes. In the book something happens to the main character that was very similar to something that has happened to me. He wakes up in the suicide wing of mental ward. He is there with about 5 other teens who are in extreme mental distress. One night, the big football jock (who never discloses the reason why he is there) named Renken comes into his room while he’s sleeping and… you know.
After reading that scene, the memory of Mackinac came flooding back into my head.
Here’s what happened:
Although it seems like a sleepy little resort island, behind the scenes is a whole different story. When you work on the island you stay up in the middle of the island. The part where nobody goes. Most of the hotels put you up in “dorms” which is basically 2 old houses that have been connected together. I was staying in one of the dorms for the hotel called The Island House during the summer of 2014.
My roommate was this kind of machismo guy who’s dad was in the military. He didn’t go to college and he smoked and drank and did drugs like a fuckin’ crazy person. But then again, everyone on Mackinac Island did drugs. Drugs were everywhere. For me, someone who doesn’t drink or do drugs, it was a horrible experience already. The dorms were separated by gender. There were guy dorms and girl dorms. So you can image, a building filled with a bunch of guys between 20 and 28 who drank, fucked, and did drugs like crazy…it was kind of like living the worst frat-house nightmare imaginable.
So, one night about a month into my stay there, I’m sleeping and suddenly I start having this horrible dream. In my dream I woke up and saw a shadowy figure standing in the room staring at me. I remember it was making this weird kind of incoherent noise. I felt so scared. I remember in the dream I was saying “No…please go away….go away…please go away…” and I felt so cold. I just remember this intense feeling of being exposed and cold and scared.
Then, I actually opened my eyes and saw that there was something in my room staring at me. It was a person. But it was so dark I couldn’t really make out who it was. I remember having this feeling like my stomach was in knots but at the same time it felt like my stomach was also clumped in my throat. It was so difficult to process because I was still only half-awake. I put the covers over me and tried hiding. I was so scared because I didn’t know what was going on, I just knew there was someone in my room.
Suddenly I could hear the sounds of someone climbing up the bunk bed and into my bed. I was so scared I couldn’t breathe. Then it laid down next to me. At this point I kind of woke up a little more and was confused… If someone had come into my room to kill or rob me or something, they wouldn’t just lay down. I took the blanket off from over my head and looked to see that it was my roommate.
I became a little less stressed knowing that I was safe and that it was just my roommate. I figured he just got super drunk or high and had no idea where he was and came into my bed by accident. I started to fall back asleep until suddenly he grabbed my hand and put it on his penis. At that point I suddenly realized my roommate wasn’t wearing pants and was erect. I quickly moved my hand away but he grabbed it again and put it back on his penis. I moved my hand away again, and then he put his hands in my underwear and grabbed my penis.
I said, “What are you doing…dude stop”. But then he started this weird incoherent low-level mumbling….the same that I heard from the shadowy figure in my dream before I woke up. Suddenly I was terrified again, knowing that he must have been standing over my bed watching me as he mumbled whatever the fuck he was saying. That must have been why I was so scared in my dream and why I felt so exposed. My body must have known that someone was standing and watching me.
He grabbed my head and tried pushing me down to suck his dick. I pulled away again and said, “Dude stop it, seriously. what the hell is going on?”. It was so weird because he kept his eyes closed. Like he didn’t want to mentally be part of the moment. Then the mumbling became more audible. He was calling me “fag” and “slut” and was saying things like “Suck it you fuckin bitch”.
I was pretty much awake at this point, and I was scared. This guy wasn’t the most stable I had ever met to begin with, plus I didn’t what kind of drugs he was on that night so I had no idea what he would be capable of doing”. I tried playing stupid and so I did one of those koala cuddles to him, where you put your leg and your arm around the other person. I tried doing it in an ‘Oh lets cuddle’ type way, but what I was actually doing was trying to hold his arms down so he couldn’t grab me.
He kept pushing my arms off and kept trying to push my head down to his crotch. When he saw that wasn’t working he grabbed my penis again, and obviously it was limp because…how the fuck am I supposed to be aroused in a moment like that? Then in his weird mumbling he said, “why aren’t you hard you fuckin fag?”.
I was now pretty pumped up with adrenaline and so I sat up and I said, “You need to get the fuck out of my bed right now”. He tried grabbing me again but I swatted his hand away. Then, silently, he got up and left the room. I could hear that he walked into the bathroom which was the door next to ours and I heard him get in the shower. I locked the bedroom door and tried to get back to sleep.
The next day when I saw him I asked what had happened last night. He of course was like, “What do you mean?” So I told him that I was talking about him coming into my bed. Then he responded with something like, “Oh man I was so drunk I probably had no idea which bed was mine..” Which you know what, I wouldn’t have cared if that was the case. Had he been drunk and passed out in my bed I wouldn’t have cared. But that wasn’t all that happened…
So then I said…”dude, you didn’t pass out in my bed…did you not realize that you didn’t wake up in our room this morning?” And he was like… “Oh ya I crashed in my friends room”. kept pushing him. I said, “Do you know why you had to do that?” And he was like… “No man, why?” So I straight up told him. I told him that he came into my bed and tried making me suck his dick. To which he responded with, “Oh dude, I was so high I probably thought I was crawling in a girl’s bed or something….”
So then I mentioned that that doesn’t make any sense considering that he he grabbed my dick, which isn’t something you would normally do to a girl…
Then he got all quiet and was like… “well that wasn’t me man, must have been someone else…”
I knew it was him. I wasn’t the drunk and high one in that bed. I clearly remember who was in that bed with me and I remember what he did.
We never really spoke after that. However, 2 days later he switched rooms. Then he told all the guys in the dorm that the reason he left our room was because I was a fag and would stare at him when he was naked.
Furthermore, anytime I would pass him in the building or on the lawn he would always call me a fag as I walked by. He of course was always sitting with about 5 other guys at all times so it wasn’t exactly like I could have fought him or anything.
People would say things to me like, “Oh man I don’t know what you did to him but he’s always talking about how he wants to beat you up” and “You really shouldn’t have come on to him….it’s kind of your fault”.
But you know what people, I’m gay and from Ohio. Sadly, I know how the world treats gay people. From experience I know that adding flame to the fire is the worst thing you can do. Going around and telling everyone what really happened was only going to make him even more mad. And a closeted drug addict son of a military father is not the kind of guy you want to question the sexuality of. That would just be me asking to get beat to death one night.
So I justified it to myself. I told myself this is just how the world treats me. Nobody ever cared about me before, so why would they now? I remember thinking that, after all, he was the hottest guy who has ever wanted to have sex with me…so maybe I should have been grateful? I just did what I had to do to make it through the rest of that summer.
But now, after reading that book all these years later I’m fucking pissed. Present-day me would have beat the shit out of him. Present-day me would have raised the kind of hell most people could only imagine the devil himself could conjure.
IT WASN’T FAIR THAT I HAD TO HAVE THAT HAPPEN
IT WASN’T FAIR THAT I HAD TO LISTEN TO HIM CALL ME A FAG AS HE TRIED TO FORCE ME TO SUCK HIS DICK
IT WASN’T FAIR THAT I HAD TO HEAR HIM CALL ME A FAG EVERYDAY AFTER THAT
IT WASN’T FAIR THAT HE COULD TELL EVERYONE A FAKE STORY BECAUSE HE KNEW THEY WOULD BELIEVE HIM OVER ME
IT WASN’T FAIR THAT I HAD TO LIVE BEING AFRAID OF GETTING BEAT UP THE REST OF THE SUMMER
THE BOTTOM LINE IS THAT IT WASN’T FAIR. IT WASN’T RIGHT, AND IT ISN’T JUSTIFIABLE
I called the sexual assault hotline and spoke to a consoler on the phone last night. I told her the story and asked if I had a right to be mad. I was wondering if I was being a drama queen, or if I was correct in my new recognition of this event. I told her that when I think of rape I think of some girl who gets jumped in the woods and is gang-banged or something….but this event also felt like it was so wrong. She told me over the phone that I had every right to be angry. She said this was a violation and that I wasn’t being a drama queen.
It felt good. It felt really really good actually. After having everyone tell me it was my fault the entire summer. After having myself believe that it wasn’t a big deal and that it’s just something you have to go through as a gay person… it just felt amazing for someone to actually sit there and say, NO. BE MAD. You’re allowed to be mad. There was such relief and such power in it.
So to anyone out there who has had something bad happen to them, BE MAD. YOU ARE ALLOWED. I don’t care if it was sexual assault, physical violence, emotional abuse, or anything else. If someone has treated you like you’re sub-human, you can be mad. It is your right to be mad.
And if anyone is dealing with a similar issue, please call a sexual assault hotline and just talk about it. The woman who spoke to me was insanely nice. They don’t judge or get mad at you. You are free to talk about anything you want.
And furthermore if anyone is hurting for any reason remember that there are crisis lines all across the world.
Below is a link to all the crisis lines across the globe ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS talk about it with people. It helps so much:
I sincerely thank you for reading this post,
~ The Dark Horse
… sorry it wasn’t proofread well