‘I bit my Pillow!’ (how my tale began)

Third and final part to my true pickup tale.

Henry Scott Tuke (1858-1929)
I enjoy looking at great paintings and this Cornish Scene by Henry Scott Tuke (1858-1929) looks good on my post bearing in mind my story’s gay theme, btw exhibited at Tate Britain. (Copyright Warwick District Council)

I’m openly honest here on my WordPress, tooo honest sometimes, well I’m hoping you’ll have read my story ‘I bit my Pillow!’ and if you did you’ll remember I said I would let you know which parts are true as happened and which parts are fiction!

‘I bit my Pillow!’, I 😀 agree a bl**dy awful title.

When I said we had gay sex and kissed well that was 100% fiction sorry to disappoint, but as I said yesterday parts are true. So just to be clear the sex is drawn from my imagination………… lol I cannot make you believe me but jeeze I hope you do.

So now you’ve read the tale this is how the episode came about btw in the spirit of fairness and honesty this is an old tale I enjoyed re writing.

Many years ago whilst holidaying by myself in central France, late one summer’s evening I found myself sitting alone inside Le Man’s Railway Station waiting room. The tale of how I came to be there is a rather long and tortuous one just understand I’m feeling desperate, my spoken French is embarrassingly appalling, the Station is emptying about to close for the night and I had absolutely nowhere to sleep that night, my only certainty within minutes the Entrance gates would be locked shut and I was soon to experience how sleeping rough on the Street actually feels…………. a truly spine chilling thought and terribly sad for the people who have no choice!

Then with only minutes to spare a middle aged guy appears as if from nowhere, sits down beside me and strikes up a conversation with this weary disorientated very depressed traveller. I was far from feeling sorry for myself, couldn’t understand him and my tired mind was in the grip of fear and loneliness, he invited me to spend the night in his home and I said yes!

I ask what an earth would you do faced with a night living on the Streets? The possibility of being mugged raped beaten up murdered a possibility, or the comfortable certainty of being driven by a rather polite personable guy to his home? Better still an unknown home where he’d provide you with a warm bed to sleep the night in. What’s more he promised on his life he’d drop me back at Le Man’s Station early next morning!

Lol what a friendly treasure, who could say no?

What a predicament what a dilemma, even if I’d been at my strongest mentally the choice would have been challenging, THAT my mind was frazzled and unable to think straight made the decision easy. But if I’d been consciously aware and thinking straight I would have absolutely figured out he was a gay man with ulterior predatory motives, a guy cruising public places late at night looking for single men to take home and have sex with! If I’d been approached on a railway station platform in Britain I would have politely told the guy to,

“Get blank lost!” (I wouldn’t lol but you get my gist)

But this late French evening I thanked my kind Samaritan and let him drive me to his home, from first meeting him to being whisked across the City into his bedroom seemed a mere blur of five minutes, and to this day I cannot understand whether I was stupidly foolhardy or naïve, qualities that have plagued my adult life. 

So remember the sex in my tale was fiction all I can admit is I must have been frigging tired because to this day I still don’t no why I went to bed with him?…… Honestly the strangest evening of my life, ask me what went on and well the light dial was turned to a warming dim glow…..…..……, I gazed up at a light flex hanging from the ceiling, then got up and slept on his sofa. (We make bad choices in life get carried away suck it up and move on.)

And I felt wretched for months after, despairingly upset is closer to the truth, I understand why people do dread a terrible dark memory seeping into their consciousness, they drain you of all energy and I did lapse into a deep depression, because well I’m straight! Our meeting confused because I consider myself groomed taken advantage of and tricked into bed, and in those months after I’d gaze at myself in the mirror with feelings of shame knowing I had to face the cold hard fact that I was a naïve guy who can be too trusting…………… but hey show me someone who hasn’t made unfortunate choices and I’ll show you a liar!!

So you get the feeling I hated myself? And note my tale is far from sensationalism, all good story’s are prompted by true events.

And what of today? Thinking back all these years later, that I went to bed naked with a naked guy ‘who fancied me’ is deliciously hilarious, the irony now is every time I think back to our night together I cannot help laughing, where’s the sin in admitting I can be tricked when I know I’m straight and omg what a surreal memory and btw I hope you’re thinking to yourselves ‘whatever!’ 😀

I know I know complete madness going home with a guy I’d never met before, even worse when I came out the shower and he’s standing there naked, jeeze he’d lied to me tricked me groomed me and yes I could have been raped or worse it happens………… I wasn’t. I should add I hope you’re not tooo disappointed to read my plump round ass wasn’t lol violated, anyways all said and done my gay French guy tale will go down as the strangest experience of my life……… I only wish I’d been approached by a kind hearted woman with darker motives!

A. Shepherdson 2018 (Just so as you know I had a blast writing these last 3 posts and 😀 I really hope some readers were left disappointed) 

 

 

7 thoughts on “‘I bit my Pillow!’ (how my tale began)

    • Thank u. 😊🤗 I’d be v happy if people liked my back story, makes me smile.☺………….im cool with what happened, no guilty feelings, no regret, sometimes bad choice memories are the best 😉…………hope you had fun😉

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  1. I don’t think you can be too honest in life. And we can’t be ashamed of our past. It is part of what makes us who we are today. I don’t have a story like you and Ray. But I have been raped, so be happy that your were duped and naive. I think back at my naivety and don’t blame myself for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I blocked my incident out for years before I dealt with it and forgave myself, finally realizing I wasn’t at fault at all. I think I would have much rather had an experiemental sexual evening than being attacked. But, C’est la vie… we grow from everything that happens in life. And we become stronger and wiser. And writing about it is probably the best way to put it in the past and move forward.

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    • I’m pleased that you’ve said ‘we cannot be ashamed of our past because it shapes the person we are today’ because that’s exactly the tone I’ve been trying to find within my many draft (unpublished) notes. Today I think I’m more disappointed with my poor judgement going home with him than anything else, the whole episode from station to bedroom still confuses me and yes is now ridiculously hilarious yet at the same time very serious, serious because I am most definitely not a victim, I consented every step I embarked on, yet true victims were not permitted such a choice……… btw this comment could finish 1000 words long and still I wouldn’t have expressed the many complexities of sexuality, naivety, weaknesses, disgust and poor judgement I feel………… every mother teaches their child not to accept rides from strange men yet me a grown intelligent sensible adult did just that!

      However all said and done I’m happy knowing as long as I live I will never experience another evening quite like it, straight yet going to bed naked with a naked guy? Jeeze I’ll never beat that tale! I was tricked and lied to by a predatory man? Omg I’ll never be that gullible again! Male sexuality? A tricky one! Perhaps it’s not as polarised and clearly defined as we like to hope? But one thing is for sure I don’t consider myself a victim, and I’ve thought about this one a great deal over the years, I think it’s perfectly acceptable to feel shame if at the same time I always accept I was lied to and tricked by a dishonest man, and my true feelings toward the French guy? He was a decent guy who lives by a different set of rules that’s all, he was polite, dropped me off next morning and cruising emptying stations looking for single men says to me he was a lonely and unhappy individual, yet if he tricked young women into bed I think society would view him VERY differently, post #Metoo and 2018, if he preyed on young women then he’d go to jail……………… I could witter on and bore you with this tale all evening long so I’ll finish now.

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  2. Don’t ever think you would bore me by writing down your thoughts. First of all, I enjoy reading them and I like reading what intelligent people write. I was a teacher remember? I read literally hundreds of stories and essays per week while I taught and then would write my responses and feelings on every paper. So, I never get bored. At least not when someone is going through a thought process. The only thing that drives me batty sometimes are a few bloggers who perceive themselves to be extraordinary poets yet they rhyme every sentence like a pre schooler. THAT I find tedious, I admit. Mainly because they aren’t improving learning, or experimenting with that art form. But it’s their right to put down anything they want and I’m not their teacher. A few times I made the mistake of posing a suggestion or recommending a piece to help guide them and my attempt to help was taken wrong. So I just stopped reading those particular bloggers. But you are thinker, and an articulate one at that. And since I’m an overly expressive, wordy girl, I don’t get bored reading your thoughts.
    I think it’s actually courageous that you can be open an honest. We live in a society where people even touch up their selfies, let alone are brave enough to bare their soul in words. Lengthy responses make my day. And I think the me too movement is male or female. Trickery is trickery. Force is a crime. But lies and trickery are indeed a form of violation if unwanted.

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    • To be honest I don’t mind talking about that unusual evening many years ago, they’re not painful memories, yes I’ve never told another living soul bar this blog but the sorry tale doesn’t upset me or I wouldn’t discuss it here, and being honest again there’s always the possibility someone I know could read though I truly believe in 2018 we are a changed more understanding society. HOWEVER if I’d been raped all those years ago I’m not sure I could have coped, I was a virgin before we met also the day after and didn’t have a girlfriend at the time hmm which begs the question did I have trust issues afterwards and the answer is possibly, though trying hard to forget really did work probably because it happened in France, I went HOME and left the memory behind in France…………. I wasn’t raped so I wasn’t a victim.
      I’m of course no longer a virgin having since met a truly wonderful experienced woman enough said, and that evening is more a very surreal very odd dream sequence, how is it possible a straight man can be sitting on a railway concourse waiting for a train, then 20 minutes later be in bed naked with a naked guy I knew not from Adam? Things like this just do not happen in real life! I’m so pleased that absurd fairy tale 20minutes makes me smile today but at the same time how does someone who’s been seriously sexually assaulted ever come to terms with what happened, I guess if you always remind yourself I was not to blame.
      Just imagine for a second from the very first moment he sat down alongside me I considered him a friendly face having empathy for my awful yes awful predicament……….. the archetypal Good Samaritan! Yet in hindsight I was sitting next to a guy who from the very first second he’d spotted me had thoughts of getting me home and again looking back not one red warning was ever flagged up, and what’s really chilling is how long had he been wandering around that station watching me? Following me? Like you say Cest la vie and thanks for listening 🙂

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  3. Andrew,
    We are all naive when we are young and predators are very good at what they do. Your experience is perhaps why older men seek out younger, inexperienced males. They are trusting, not jaded, and very naive. Stuff like that happens. Thankfully you were not raped. Sexuality is what it is. If you think about it…blindfolded would one even know what sex the other person is?

    My situation was very different. I was attacked, stabbed, my house broken into, and I was fortunate to escape with my life. That is a long story and until fairly recently when the women came out of the woodwork to convict Bill Cosby, did I ever even think it. I had buried my experience. Only in dreams/nightmares would it come to the surface. My husband knew about it and a close friend, but nobody else.
    However, when people questioned women going after Cosby after decades it brought back my memories to the forefront. I went to a female therapist who had me write a letter to my attacker. I wrote a 7 page letter in detail telling him off and letting him know how empowered the incident made me. How I washed him away and rose like the phoenix from the tub stronger than ever bla bla bla. I typed up the letter, read it to my therapist who was crying by the end of it. (In fairness, since I WAS an actress in my youth, I CAN read quite well, so I was forceful and read it with strength, determination and conviction. Almost like a Shakespearean character.)
    She asked if she could keep the letter and share it with other rape victims to help them deal with their trauma. I of course said yes. And then a funny thing happened. I let it go. I no longer have anymore terrifying dreams, or look around me and judge strangers. That letter set me free. It was something from my past and writing to a person whose name I don’t even know or remember (I did identify him to the police out a grouping of sexual predator pictures they had on hand at the station). I was actually quite lucky I survived. The week after my attack he stabbed and killed a woman with an ice pick and went to jail for life.
    But, writing that letter got it all out of my sub conscience. You might try that yourself. It works.
    And the odd thing… I had a life to live so it didn’t ruin my life. At the time I was a young divorced mom in my mid 20’s and I had a toddler to raise on my own. So I just went about raising my son and teaching children. I didn’t have time to focus on the trauma I had to feed my child. And years later when I had the time to deal with it, I did. I cried while I wrote the letter. But, then it was done. It is all part of the story of my life. Just as your incident is a part of your story. I happened. You moved on and that is that. Cest la Vie.

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