| |
I’d agreed to meet my long-time friend one last time before I left. I hadn’t taken into account hash or female intuition. I was in my early twenties, and about to embark on an adventure in a foreign country. Wind was blowing and I would soon leave for new landscapes, language and people. I was hopeful, excited… but also afflicted by a secret: I like young boys.
As with most MAPs, my attractions became recognizable during my early teenage years, but a long process was necessary until I finally fully acknowledged them. Genuine lack of awareness, half-conscious concealment, and self-deception were some of the phases I went through, but as I got older self-awareness of my attractions arose. My intention was to keep that secret hidden, for my incursions into the online world had taught me one thing: I cannot tell this to anybody, or I risk losing my family, my friends, my life.
Unfortunately for me, I hadn’t taken altered states of perception and female intuition into account.
On that day, I’d agreed to meet my long-time friend March one last time before I left. March was a long-time friend I had met at high school, a force of nature and a wonderful, wonderful person. That kind of person who is so deeply passionate about life that they experience it with a nearly self-destructive intensity. To save herself from existential implosion she'd channel her boiling subjective experience into her art, and it would blossom in the form of songs, poems, drawings and songs. Her colourful, presence would leave a long-lasting mark wherever she went, and the same happened to me and my nerdy friends, whose lives she shook to the core. Now I was about to shake her world, for I was leaving her for a year.
Our original plan that day was that we’d buy some equipment I’d need for my new adventure and part ways, but our time together extended into going to a small quaint teahouse to enjoy some delicious (but outrageously expensive) chocolate crepes and sweet liquor. While we were enjoying our food, she offered to go with me to a little forest close to where we lived to talk, and I agreed.
When we left the teahouse, night had fallen. While we were walking the steep way to the forest, March showed me she had brought some hash with her. I was terribly naive and I assumed the blunt was light because it was made of hash instead of weed, and, therefore, had a high percentage of tobacco. Approximately 10 seconds after smoking many arrogantly reckless puffs I was staggering across the street, shouting like a madman
Miraculously, we made it to the forest without me being run over by a car. As we approached the trees, I felt the increasing pressure of the world crushing onto me: I was going to leave my city, my country, my family, my friends. But I was still bringing that dark secret with me. Overwhelmed, I started throwing up and my friend led me to a bench in the forest. We sat on it in front of the dark sky and, sheltered from the moonlight by the pine tops’ shadows, we talked about everything.
We talked about my hopes and expectations for my new experience. We also talked about how I had been feeling a bit apathetic those last months. And, driven by the powerful emotions, I hinted at the dark secret I had been hiding. My friend looked me deep in the eyes.
“You have to say it out loud, or that secret will control you”, she said.
“I know but it’s not easy.”
“It’s not, but I’m here to help you.”
I looked into the endless depth of the night; I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment.
“I’m a pedophile,” I said.
“Yeah, I suspected it.”
Of course she did: after all, she had known me for a long time. And sometimes, when I was deep in a period of suffering, I hinted to my friends at this struggle of mine that I couldn't share. With a couple more hints, she was able to reach a hypothesis she’d just confirmed.
And my biggest fear turned out to be unfounded. Despite everything, she accepted me for who I was. I was simply astounded: there are people who’ll accept me as I am! Although we discussed many other things, it was this realisation that deeply shook me and made me reconsider the certainties I had till that moment.
After such a long day together, we parted ways and went to our respective homes. I went straight to my room and, overwhelmed by feelings, I put on the Swedish film Let the Right One In. I felt it was appropriate, as the film delved into a love that, not lacking in beauty was tainted by darkness and yet, still true.
In retrospect, that day remains one of the most significant in my life. It planted the seed for a later change of course in my life: I would no longer remain hidden from everybody, but open up to more friends I could trust. I would begin to interact with other MAPs on the internet, looking for companionship and engaging in online activism. I would not turn my back on this condition of mine, I would not let my existence be shadowed by this curse, but turn it into the light that would show me a way through the dark forest. And I would never, ever again, underestimate hash.
Thank you, March, for giving me a listening ear that late evening. For helping me say the "p" word. | |
