Now that I’ve published my diary from 1985 I’m turning my attention to 1986. This was the last full year in the eighties that I managed to keep a daily record of what was going on in my world. As I’ve searched through boxes of old stuff I’ve kept I’ve found all sorts; letters, bus passes and the odd isolated written account of specific events. One such event is what happened to me when I was 14, a couple of months before my 15th birthday.
I think I wrote it down as I felt pretty shocked by what had happened and also I thought, at some point, I might need to tell the police so I wanted to remember the details. Also I felt a sense of guilt I think, and wanted to remember I hadn’t done anything wrong.
I’ve ummed and ahhed about whether I should share this. And whether, if I did, I should edit any of the content. I wrote it relatively explicitly and in some detail and when I read it back almost 30 years later I felt quite shocked. In the stark way I wrote it there is no intended humour or lightheartedness – I don’t know whether there should be.
Then there’s been all this stuff about Harvey Weinstein and Kevin Spacey recently, and I’m not saying that this is in anyway the same as that, but it made me think of what happened to me. And it doesn’t sit with any of the content of 1986 or the early part of 1987 so I wouldn’t include it in that. So, what the hell, here it is.
This is exactly what I wrote when I got home to the safety of my bedroom:
It happened to me once before a while back but not to this degree. Before I just got spied upon through the hole and I got out as quick as I could. But today was worse.
I had finished my art and so walked down from school. I needed the loo and so I went in to the King’s Hall toilets. One of the cubicles was taken, the other was free. I went into that one and took my trousers down and then sat down. I was aware that there was someone in the other cubicle and that they might have been looking at me through the hole. I leant forward and it appeared no one was looking at me. Then a finger came through the hole and I heard somebody whisper something. I wasn’t sure what he’d said. The finger came again and I pretended not to notice. The whispering grew louder. I was scared silly. I didn’t know what to do. I leant forward, “What?” I whispered. I glanced through the hole and I could see a man wanking himself off in there. “Put your thing through the hole and let me suck it off” he said. I felt sick. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat on the bog as if I was welded to it. Next thing I know his prick was through the hole. It was long and erect and it seemed to throb and expand. That was the final straw. I pulled my trousers up as quick as I could. As I did I heard the man pull up his trousers and his door opened with a slam. I felt even sicker now. He was outside waiting for me. Should I go out or should I stay in? I opened the door and there he was. Quite a tall man, about 6ft and of a heavy build. He had a ginger head of hair and a beard, cut into a crew cut. I was going to tell him not to hurt me but he spoke first, “Come on, just 5 minutes” he said.
“Come on just five minutes”
“I can’t I’ve got a bus to catch”
“Well tomorrow then” He spoke in a soft voice as if not to scare me. I was scared shitless already.
Then he groped my genitals.
I felt sick. I just turned and ran up the stairs. I didn’t think he had followed me but he had. I walked as quickly as possible. He was still following me. I headed for the Gift Tree. He managed to catch up with me and was smoking a cigarette. Still talking softly he said to me, “Come on”
“I’m not gay you know”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it”
“You were tempted”
I was hell! I didn’t say anything. I just kept on walking. I went into the Gift Tree wishing he would go away and leave me. Then I saw Chaney in the bus queue. I went to talk to her (not about my ordeal). He was still there. I was shaking like mad. I turned to look his way. He gestured with his head for me to go over to him. I ignored him. Chaney went and Nikki came. I talked to her for a bit desperately wanting to tell her but not daring. He was still there. Again he gestured. The bus came. I got on and saw him walking away back to the toilets. Then I saw Cathy and Mel. I got off at the next stop as I desperately needed to talk to someone. I told Cathy and Mel and Angela.
I also told my dad. He rang a friend who was a policeman who told him they knew this sort of thing happened, that they couldn’t do anything about it and I should stay away. I was far too scared to go back. Nothing like this happened again, not to me anyway.
On the cubicle wall someone had written “what is rimming?” someone else had responded “licking toilet seats”…