DOUBLE DAZE......

I had to let it happen, I had to change
Couldn't stay all my life down at heel
Looking out of the window, staying out of the sun

So I chose freedom
Running around, trying everything new
But nothing impressed me at all
I never expected it to

That's how I would sum up 1993.  A year of change in which I would start to re-find my self and take up challenges and adventures which I had never thought possible until then.

The year started dismally.  Christine was well and truly a big part of Matty's life and I was feeling like a stranger in my own house.  I took my refuge in work, in my new found life doing the local beats on my night's off and finally and thankfully in my teaching career. The second term of the year had started and I had still not had a teaching offer.  I was starting to feel depressed and worthless.  I had no boyfriend, I had no career and my life seemed to be a delusional, empty world where I found pleasure in the simplest and saddest of things.

I don't know where the inspiration came from, most likely it was a stoned moment in my room, where I suddenly realised that if 'the mountain won't go to Mohammed then Mohammed must go to the mountain'.  My name was down on the 'casual teachers list' in about a dozen local schools but I still hadn't had a call from any of them.  So I decided to put a face to my name and one day went around to each and every school to introduce myself to the Principal and let them know I was available.

Voila!  It was as easy as that.  The following morning I had a call from the nearest school where the Principal asked me if I knew anything about computers and could I start the following day.  Could I what!  Despite the overwhelming obstacles this would become my best opportunity and give me a chance to excel at something both respectable and self-fulfilling.

I arrived the following day not knowing what to expect.  The school was one of the oldest school's in Sydney but sadly in decline due to the changing demographics of the area and , as I was to find out, the peculiarities of the Principal.  Anyway I arrived and was shown into the computer room.  It was filled with about a dozen Apple computers all still in their boxes and not one of them set up!  I was given two hours to install the computers and have a lesson ready for the Year 5 & 6 children.

If you have ever seen the movie 'To Sir, With Love' then you will have an understanding of the type of school and children I was dealing with.  Although much younger than the movie students, these kids were all from dysfunctional, welfare families and almost as street wise as I was.  Thankfully the class teacher stayed with me for my first few lessons, helping me with controlling the class - she would become a great friend and mentor in the following years.  I wasn't perfect, I wasn't that organized, but I instantly had an empathy with the kids and knew how to deal with them.  Within a few days I was a hit with them all and my 4 hours a day stint became a full time position, filling in for the two teachers who ran an entire school (of about 60 students) and covering for the Principal who didn't want to spend anytime in the classroom.

I spent the next two terms there and not only enjoyed the experience but really gained an enormous amount of skill and knowledge. Not only in teaching but also in social welfare.  I soon found out that I wasn't only dealing with the kids at school, but quite often got caught up in family issues after school as I was part of the community and could hardly walk out my front door without bumping into the kids or parents - they all had issues and I became a big part of their lives in helping them deal with those issues.  It was not only rewarding but a great way to escape from the depression and loneliness I was feeling.

The parents and kids knew I was gay, knew I got stoned (never during the teaching day) every afternoon and they all accepted me for being a nice, caring person.  Suddenly I wasn't some stoned poofter who had to hide my lifestyle but just another one of them who happened to be a positive influence on their children's and their lives. They didn't condemn and neither did I.

I was able to cut down my Taxi job to Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights where I was working purely with the 'Disabled Taxi Service, and getting a guaranteed full weeks employment at the school on casual wages, which were amazingly high.  Suddenly I had money, a sense of self worth, and more free time on my hands than I had had in the past 3 years.

I finished school at 3pm and was home by 3.30 at the latest.  A half dozen cones and then I was off to the local park with my dog for the next hour, often joined by some of my class members or their parents.  It was an abandoned velodrome, one I remembered going to in my early childhood, but now derelict and lost behind narrow lanes and the backs of warehouses.  It was a wonderful place where I could let both my dog and my imagination run free.

Matty and Christine didn't get home from work until 5.30pm.  I had ample time, between cones smoked blatantly in any part of the house I wanted, before the returned and I made sure that not only was the house cleaned but dinner was being prepared.  It became easy to play the part of the caring, sharing house-mate and then, with the excuse of having school work to do, retire to my wonderful bedroom to get stoned before heading out for some sexual gratification.  It truly was a double if not triple life I was leading.

Matty was just a small part of my life finally.  Deep down I wanted it to be more, but also I realised that finally after all these years the pressure was off me.  I was no longer the target for his abuse, and to be honest I did everything I could to make him realize how amazing I was.  Working two jobs, cleaning and cooking for both him and his girlfriend, and never complaining about the restrictions they had placed upon me.  I always had a smile on my face, a friendly word for Christine and would still jump if he asked me to do him a favour.

Of course things couldn't remain being as idealistic as they seemed.  One of the issues I had with Matty was that I knew he had not told her that he was HIV positive.  He had assured me that he always practised safe sex with her and strictly it was none of my business.  Until he started becoming sick again,

Towards the end of the year he started getting sick.  Nothing he could really put a name to, but just the odd day of feeling 'off colour'.  When this started becoming a regular pattern I went with him to the hospital HIV ward where they started running tests.  It would take numerous tests and almost 3 weeks before the doctors diagnosed Matty as having Pneumonia.

Now just like me you are all imagining Pneumonia as a lung disease, common with the Victorian Era and damp terrace houses and the poverty stricken working class.  Unfortunately for the beautiful Matty we were to find out that Pneumonia is actually an organ disease, most commonly associated with the lungs but not always.  In his case he had developed a Pneumatic infection in the skin - the skin is the largest organ is the human body.  Basically it would slowly start taking the form of a pustulous swelling on his neck which grew bigger and bigger as the weeks went past.

There was no way we could hide this from Christine.  After being giving the diagnosis and the expectations of the symptoms he could expect we both knew that she had to be told the truth.  Matty of course dealt with it in his own peculiar way.  Back home he sat with me for the first time in months and got stoned.  He already knew that he would have to ring work and ask for sick leave, which, with the doctor's diagnosis was readily given to him, along with the promise that his job was open whenever he was ready to return.

I prepared the way that evening.  The house cleaned, dinner cooked and ready to serve and shut myself in my bedroom to allow him and Christine to talk.  I don't know what was said but she had only been in the house for about 15 minutes before he started yelling and shouting at her that he didn't want to see her any more and she had to 'get out now'.

How can you justify feeling smugly satisfied at someone else's tragic expense?  I really don't believe he even explained his predicament to her.  Rather he just became angry and aggressive and demanded that she get out of the house.  The poor thing didn't even have time to pack her belongings.  With the sound of her sobbing and pleading, plus the obvious sound of him hitting and dragging her up the hallway, I opened my bedroom door to find him carrying her over his shoulder and literally throwing her out the front door.

There was nothing I could do to stop it.  Not that I really tried.  Here was the ultimate proof that Matty could not really exist without me.  No matter how hard he fought it, how hard he pretended to be straight, I was the one person he truly loved and needed.

If only I knew how hard the next 6 months would be I may have acted differently.......

New Daze....

I, I who have nothing, I, I who have no one
Must watch you go dancing by
Wrapped in the arms of somebody else when darling, it's I
Who loves you, who loves you
Who loves you

1992.  11 years since I had run away from home.  They were the best days of my life and they had been the worst days of my life.  I think the best way to sum it up is by using a line from Star Trek 'It's life Jim, but not as we know it'.

Suddenly my life was taking a whole new turn.  Christine moved in around the same time that I graduated from University with my teaching diploma.  I had managed to not only complete the course but come out with an above average score - unfortunately not enough to get me an immediate teaching placement.  I would be put on a waiting list for casual teachers and had to hope that the offers would start coming in.

I kept my shifts at the taxi company as they worked in well with possible teaching offers.  I still had 4 nights and one day work which allowed me to accept any offers of day to day teaching which came up.  Nothing came up for the first 3 months.  I would later learn that the first term of school is a time when teachers rarely take time off but I didn't know that at the time and my self esteem was starting to take a battering.

Along with this was the new home life which I had to try and adjust to.  Even though I was only home 3 nights a week and for a short while on Saturday mornings it was hard to accept the change in Matty and my relationship. To make matters worse everyone at the Taxi company was aghast at the sudden change in mine and Matty's relationship.  They were all used to Matty's occasional flings with girls but couldn't get their head around him taking up with Christine.

Watching him and Christine kiss and cuddle all night long, seeing her run around after him like a love sick puppy and worst of all hearing them at nights making love in the room right next to me. I was certain that she deliberately groaned as loud as possible just to upset me and then the following morning she had that smug look upon her face as if to say 'he's mine'.  For the first time in 7 years I was playing second fiddle to Matty and it was hard to accept.

I didn't dislike Christine, in fact I tried really hard to be her friend, but deep down I knew she resented my presence, resented my close ties with Matty and slowly but surely started creating rifts between us. She wasn't a pot smoker and within a few months she made it clear that she didn't want Matty smoking.  Unknown to her his frequent bouts of sickness, which had re-started, scared him enough to decide to quit smoking pot.  I was told that from then on I could only smoke in my bedroom. Of course he was just playing a game with her and on many occasions would slip into my room to share a few bongs - she never complained directly but her reactions made it clear that she was not only upset but saw me as a bad influence.

She began to instil her own routines for cooking and cleaning which just didn't fit into my schedule.  Even though I was home alone most days and had the house clean and sparkling every day she started complaining to Matty that I wasn't helping her.  It was useless pointing out that when she cleaned I was at work or still sleeping after a late night shift (I was deliberately doing as much overtime as possible) and that she was only re-cleaning a spotless house anyway.

There seemed to be no compromise so I began to spend most of my free time out of the house.  I started spending time with friends from work and it was here that I met my best friend Kylie who would be a good friend for the next 10 years.

She was totally not my type of person.  Lived in the suburbs, had a passion for 1970's rock bands and was straight!  But she was lovely.  Her mother was on welfare and had two other children, both grown up and all by different fathers.  They were a strange family but loving and welcoming and I could go there and smoke pot with them all and pretend that this was my family - we were really that close.

One day whilst I was at Kylie's we were getting stoned and watching TV.  An add came on announcing that there were still seats available for that afternoons taping.  In a stoned moment we decided to ring up and get tickets.  The TV station was only a 10 minute drive away.  Sitting in the audience ready to watch the filming of 'Supermarket Sweep' the announcer said 'Will the man with the jar of Cottee's Marmalade come on down?" It took me quite a few seconds to realise that I was the 'man' and Kylie and I went running down the stairs and made our television debut.

It was an absolute hoot.  Being stoned my reflexes took some time to get into gear before I was hitting the buzzer and getting every question correct.  The Host and his beautiful assistant took an instant liking to us and between breaks spent their time chatting to us and almost ignoring the other 4 contestants.  When the finale came and I had to run around the 'supermarket' filling the trolley with as many items as possible the announcer called out "look at that boy shop!"  It was true - I was racing down the aisles and stuffing my trolley with as many items as I could grab.  It was the best minute of my life.  We didn't win as one of the other contestants managed to snag the mystery item which gave them bonus points.  We won a bed set with a matching doona which we had to share.

I remember coming home all excited and telling Matty and Christine about it.  Christine replied 'did you really go on that dreadful show stoned? How embarrassing'. 

My other escape was in the evenings when I wasn't working.  It started out quite innocently but became a regular habit which was both dangerous and exciting.  I used to walk up to Newtown to buy dinner.  To get there I had to go through Newtown Park which is an old cemetery and had become a regular gay beat.  The park is a beautiful oasis surrounded by old, tiny Victorian terraces crammed cheek to jowl.  Originally the cemetary took up  the whole park but at some stage the headstones were taken up and all put within the original church walls which form the top corner of the park.

I started off buying dinner and sitting in the park to eat it.  It wasn't long before I realised that the looks I was getting from men walking past were more than friendly.  Believe it or not I had never done a beat in my life.  I hadn't really had the need to and the ones that I knew of were the typical grungy toilet blocks with 'dirty old men' lurking around - it just wasn't my type of thing.

But 11 years of sex on tap had been over for a few years and I could count on one hand the number of times I had sex with Matty during that time.  The need was there and it wasn't long before I was hooked.  This was just an extension of my personality - no matter what it was I couldn't get enough, whether it was drugs or sex, it would be a recurring theme for many years.  

I  soon realised that I needed to head out later than I had been, especially as it was summer and the evenings were still light until 8pm.  I would stay in my bedroom each evening getting stoned and then roll a few joints to take with me.

During my childhood Newtown had been a 'slum' suburb on the edge of the city.  It's inhabitants were a mixture of old time working class or unemployed Australians and Greek immigrants, plus lots of crumbling second hand furniture stores.  By the early 90's it was going through it's first stage of urban renewal, with, as was typical, the gay community being the first to start moving in.  It was a beautiful suburb.  One of the oldest in Sydney and full of an amazing mix of old Colonial mansions, working class terraces, warehouses and lovely tree lined streets.  I loved every nook and cranny of it and soon knew almost every street intimately.

My evenings out were not only a blissful escape from having to watch Matty and Christine's sickening infatuation, but also a much needed release for my sexual frustration. I never went home unsatisfied, I was very particular about who I chose to have sex with and soon had a regular retinue of boys who would come and go.  Having sex in the dark, foreboding grounds of the church cemetery was a thrill which I really enjoyed.  During the daytime I often took my dog there and spent my time reading the amazing and sad epitaphs which outlined the hard but interesting lives of the early settlers.

It didn't take long for Matty to start asking what I was doing out every night. I told him that I was going out to dinner then drinking at the Newtown Hotel, which was a gay bar.  He wasn't really concerned that I wasn't home - he was just feeling scorned that I wasn't spending time with him any more.  I told him that as Christine had restricted my 'one pleasure' (smoking pot) in my own home that I preferred going out where I felt more comfortable.  When he said but you can still smoke in your room I told him that that made me feel even more uncomfortable and like a school kid, having  to hide in my room to smoke.

What I didn't tell him was that I was truly happy to be away from both of them and that for the first time in years I didn't feel scared or pressured to be at his beck and call.  Maybe he realised this for not long after things began to change for us again.....

CHANGING DAZE....(part 3)

'Cause I've heard it all before
And I've been down there on the floor
No one's ever gonna keep me down again

Oh yes, I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong

So inevitably change came in unexpected ways. 

 

I always loved Matty, but at times he terrified me and made me hate him. There had been many occasions when I truly wished that he would just die.  Then of course guilt set in and he would be his loving, kind and generous self and my feelings would change.  Bullies always have a way of making you believe that you are the antagonist rather than the protagonist.

 

One night I returned home after a full day at university and an evening shift at the taxi company.  The house stank of smoke and I walked in to find Matty asleep in the lounge and a pan of oil burning furiously in the kitchen.  Smoke and soot were filling the house and it was only by luck that I arrived early enough to stop the kitchen from catching fire.

 

 

 

With the fire under control and the smoke clearing I woke Matty and probably yelled at him - I don't really remember.  The next thing I knew he was laying into me, punches flying and him telling me that it was my fault!   I'm not sure how he justified that to himself but it was may fault anyway.  I spent an hour trying to clear the blackened kitchen cabinets and when I realised that no amount of scrubbing was going to clean the smoke and soot marks I told him that we would have to report it to the Real Estate Agent.

He grabbed my by the hair and slammed my head against the cupboard, telling me that I had to have it clean before I went to sleep.  So I spent an hour quietly cleaning and when I was sure he was asleep I stopped and went to bed.  In the morning, after only about 4 hours sleep I woke up and began trying to clean again.  Matty woke up, full of apologies and kisses and told me he would fix it as he had decided to take the day off work.

I said I would help him.  Amazingly he started at me again demanding that I go to my university class.  I was stunned.  Bruised, battered and with a large graze running across my forehead from where he had slammed my face into the cupboard, the last thing I wanted was for anyone to see me.  He virtually pushed me out of the door and threatened to ring my lecturer to make sure I attended.  If I hadn't attended I knew what to expect.

 

So I went.  Thankfully it was a practical class not a lecture and ironically it was a Child Psychology class.  Giving excuses of having fallen off my motorbike I got through the 2 hour lesson.  When it was over the lecturer asked me to stay behind.  She was very direct and asked me who had hit me.  When I repeated my made up story she quietly put her arms around me.  At this point I fell to pieces and told her the whole story. Her advice was the turning point in my relationship with Matty.

Finally having someone to talk to and someone who assured me that the only fault I had was in putting up with the beatings and that I was the victim gave me a new outlook on the reality of my life.

The next time Matty hit me would earn a different reaction from me.  Again I had returned home from work and Matty was awake.  When I sat down to have bong he jumped up and grabbed it from me. 'Why haven't you ironed my uniform for the morning?'......this time I refused to cower and jump to his demands.  'I have been at uni all day and then worked 6 hours, I will iron your uniform but not until I have had a few cones', was my reply.

Matty wasn't sure how to react to this.  We shared a few cones and then Matty said he was going to bed.  I didn't have uni the following morning so I continued smoking, enjoying the solitude and the joy of just doing nothing for the first time all day.  Suddenly he was out of the room and on seeing his ironing still not done he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out to the kitchen.

 

 

Demanding that I iron immediately he picked up the iron and swung it at my head.  The blow was stunning.  I hit the wall and saw stars, I could feel something warm trickling down my face, obviously my own blood.  Senseless to my pain and shock he plugged the iron in and told me to have his uniform ironed  immediately.  I picked my self up and began ironing.  Matty left me and went back to the lounge room.  As I was ironing I could hear him tell me I had 4 minutes to finish, 3 minutes to finish.....

I made a snap decision.  The kitchen door which led outside was open. I quietly stepped outside and gingerly opened the back gate.  Then I ran as fast as I could up the street.  Terrified that he would follow me I zig-zagged my way up hill through the narrow lanes and back streets until I reached the Newtown Police Station.

I didn't have the courage to go in.  Sitting instead on the park bench just one house away from the station.  It was 1am and the streets were deserted.  I didn't quite trust the police to take my complaint seriously - it was still a time when gays were treated with indifference and intolerance.  So I sat and sat, I cried, I tried to pluck up the courage to end it all and simply walk inside the Police Station and have Matty arrested for assault.  I couldn't.

Of course, he eventually appeared, walking calmly towards me with his arms outstretched.  I jumped and started towards the station.  He gently called my name and asked me to just speak with him.  I did.  He promised to never hit me again, promised to treat me with respect, asked me for another chance.  I told him that he only had one more chance and that if it happened again I would have him arrested.

We walked home, we smoked bongs, he kept apologizing, we slept together for the first time in months.  The following day he did all the housework, cooked dinner and even packed cones for me.  In fact he did everything that he would normally have demanded of me.  It seemed things were changing after all.

The next change came only a few weeks later.  The owners of our rented house were returning from England and wanted to move into the house.  We still had a 3 month rental contract but the estate agent assured us that not only would they refund our bond in full but they also had another house available which we could view.

The house was directly opposite where we were living, across the street and one house down.  It was a beautiful Federation house, much bigger than the one we were currently in and much nicer (on first look).  It was $60 more than our current rent but we decided we could afford it and moved in.

Never move two houses away!  Not only will the removal companies refuse to do the job, but having to move your entire house across the road is a nightmare.  We literally carried every stick of furniture from one house to the other.  It was a 12 hour ordeal, fuelled by lots of speed and marijuana breaks.

The house was lovely.  Two large bedrooms at the front, a long corridor leading to a large lounge which had beautifully moulded cathedral ceilings, another large reception room behind that which had a small outside side balcony area, and a modern kitchen and bathroom at the back.  The garden at the back was small but beautifully planted on the sides with a small grass patch in the middle, at the end of the property was a huge double garage which could be entered from the back lane.

Matty let me have the front bedroom, which had a huge bay window where I could fit my double bed.  Leaving me a whole room to put a lounge and coffee table in facing the ornate, working fireplace.  This was to become my sanctuary as other factors soon arose which  caused life changes.

 

Matty had started regularly dating one of the girls from the taxi company.  She was a lovely girl but very plain looking and very old - fashioned.  Totally unlike any of the people we would normally mix with.  Even though I was used to Matty's constant switching from having a relationship with me to having sex with girls, I was mortified that this boring, ugly girl was taking my place in his affections.  It was a big dent to my ego and my reaction was to start retreating into my bedroom or simply spend time out of the house whenever she was there.

 

 

Within a few months Matty had asked her to move in with us.  He didn't consult me but explained that it would be cheaper with 3 of us sharing, and he needed someone who would take care of him as I was always busy with work and uni.  I had never stopped taking care of him.  I did all the housework, the washing, the cooking.  If I was working in the evening then I always had food prepared for him to heat up for his dinner.......

 

At that stage he had been relatively healthy for some months.  His T-cell count was high and he had had few health problems. Initially I was angry but hid my anger as best I could.  Sitting alone in my 'sanctuary' it dawned upon me, in a stoned moment, that with Christine there he would have another person to take his anger out on instead of me.  It was a very selfish and uncharitable decision but I decided to make the most of it while I could. 

 

So Christine moved in with us.  For a few weeks life was normal and followed our usual routine.  Slowly things began to change and a new stage of my life was beginning.

  

IN BETWEEN DAZE.....(part 2).

You can bend but never break me
'Cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
'Cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul

Oh yes, I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong...

The glory days of life with Matty would only last for 6 months.  In that time I became stronger and re-gained my self esteem.  I was excelling at my new job and within a few months I was promoted to shift supervisor for two nights a week and on Friday and Saturday nights taught how to operate the 'Disabled Taxi' service.

This was an incredible job.  I not only had to manage to allocate driver's jobs using the radio but also speak with some of the wonderful clients who used our service.  It made me realize that I was lucky and had no reason to complain about my circumstances.  Here I was dealing with people who couldn't walk, couldn't do any of the things I took for granted, but managed to enjoy their lives to the maximum.  The drivers and the customers soon became like family to me and even 25 years on I still remember their voices clearly.

We made great friends on the job and our house became a regular nightly stop-over for many of our co-workers.  There was hardly a night went past without 2 or 3 colleagues dropping over after our shift to smoke pot and enjoy de-stressing after a hectic and monotonous night.  It was here that I would make some of my best friends for the next 10 years.

In my free time I was enjoying the domesticity of living a normal life.  Free of Matty's bullying, free of the dramas of prostitution and basically free to just enjoy being me.  I loved the suburb we lived in, with it's quirky architecture and, at the time, almost quiet suburban feel.  Every house was unique, the streets were tree lined and full of history.  I had numerous parks to walk my dog in and finally began to feel that life was turning a corner.

It was the Spring of 1989 and two memorable incidents occurred.  The first being the 'Newcastle Earthquake'.  I recall the moment as if it were yesterday.  It was shortly after 11am and I remember asking Matty 'what is that rumbling sound? Is it a truck?'  He laughed and said something about an earthquake.  Within seconds the whole house was shaking and twisting and I was standing under the door frame clutching my dog while Matty laughed.  Being a New Zealander he was used to regular earthquakes.  I was shitting myself watching the walls and ceiling all moving in different directions.  Amazingly, although the quake centre was nearly 200km away our house actually suffered some slight structural damage - the front wall cracked and our outside toilet wall also gained a huge crack.  

More tragically,  that was only a few months before my brother in law died in a tragic accident.  This was the one who had advised me to 'do something with my life'.  He had been repairing an old car at home.  Instead of using a car jack to lift the car he had mounted the back of the car on bricks.  For whatever reason, the bricks toppled and he was pinned beneath the car.  We don't know how many hours later it was before my 5 year old niece found him crushed but still alive.  By the time the ambulance arrived he was already dead.

This affected me in a big way.  He was the one person (possibly the only person) who had ever shown any care or concern for me.  I had made him a promise and I was determined to uphold that promise.  Working for a taxi company, no matter how much better it was than being a prostitute was not going to get me anywhere.  It was a job that paid the bills but had few prospects.

2 months later and I attended the Sydney University Open Day for late enrolments.  the Uni was only about 15 minutes walk away and I had made a decision to make something of my life.  By the end of the day I had enrolled in a Bachelor of Primary Teaching.  I had completed Year 12 of high school and being a 'mature age' student there was no other qualification required.  The courses would start in March.......

The Taxi Company were absolutely wonderful in supporting me.  My Uni time-table meant that I had to change my shifts to accommodate the lectures.  As most of my taxi shifts were in the evening it required a little shuffling and leeway on the part of the company.  My Monday and Tuesday supervisor shifts were changed so I could start at 5pm and then I worked the other 3 shifts on Friday & Saturday nights finishing at 11pm.  On Sunday mornings I had to do a 7am to 3pm shift.  It was a little taxing but I was determined to better myself so the sacrifices were worth it.

The hardest thing was to return to a school environment.  Apart from my one year at Secretarial College I had no other learning experiences.  All the other students were High School graduates so I (apart from 3 other older students who dropped out at the end of the first semester) was the oldest in our group.  I quickly made some great friends who were more than happy to help me.  I have to admit that I really had no idea of what was required.  In the 10 years since I had finished High School it seemed that a lot had changed.

So I juggled Uni, work, running a house, caring for a dog, and most importantly caring for Matty.  It seemed that my whole life was non - stop.  I had Wednesday and Thursday nights free but my Uni classes didn't finish until 5pm on those days so I had to return home, walk the dog, get dinner ready for Matty and do any domestic chores required. Matty had at this stage been promoted to an executive position in the company working from 9am to 5pm.  It was a role he was made for - being the Disciplinary Manager and Complaints Manager for taxi drivers who had been found to be at fault in customer dealings.

While Matty had been excelling in his new found career he was at his best.  He was in a higher position than me and took every opportunity to remind me of it.  Often he would take it upon himself to personally chastise me in the 'Radio Room' over any little error I had made during my shifts.  This was until I complained to the CEO of the company and asked why Matty was performing the role of my supervisor.  Naturally Matty was not happy and when I returned home from my shift he was waiting for me.  A few quick punches to the stomach satisfied him.

At other times he would leave the office at 5pm and make a big show of coming over to me and kissing me goodbye before he left.  When his mother died a few months later he returned to New Zealand to attend her funeral.  When he returned he spent some of his inheritance money to buy me a 'surprise' present.  A motor scooter so that I could travel to Uni and work more easily - avoiding the long walks to lectures and having to rely on public transport to get me to and from work.

By the end of the first semester ( I was positive he didn't think I would make it beyond that) his tactics changed.  Suddenly he was aware that I was succeeding without him.  I was getting above average grades at Uni and my abilities at the Taxi Company were recognized by the top brass.  I held the record for being able to complete a booking in the fastest recorded time and I was constantly getting praise from my 'disabled' clients which were directed at the management.

During my second semester he started dating girls from the company.  He was very cunning in the way he went about this.  My shift finished at 11pm and on many occasions as I was about to leave one of the girls would say 'I'll be coming home with you, Matty has invited me over'.  So I would be forced to bring the girl home, sit for at least an hour or so (smoking pot naturally) and then go to bed.  My room was right next to the lounge room so I was able to hear every noise.  Sometimes Matty would continue till the early hours - having slept earlier in the evening.

It was a strange situation.  On one hand Matty made it quite clear to all that he and I were an item.  On the other hand he had no hesitation in bedding half the female staff in the company while I was in my room.  None of these liaisons lasted more than a night or two but he pushed it in my face as often as he had the chance.  Then out of the blue he would decide to sleep with me.  He kept me dangling and hopeful that we really had something.  On my part I just believed that he was confused with his sexuality and that eventually he would accept that he loved me (and I believe he did) and we would live happily ever after.

Of course I should have known better.  This would be the pattern of our lives for the next 4 and a half years.  One night he invited half a dozen of our work colleagues home after our shift.  He not only insisted that I prepare food for our 'guests' but also demanded that I had his work uniform ironed for the following day.  I put on my smiling face and complied with all his wishes.  I enjoyed an hour or so with our friends and then said I had to go to bed as I had an early lecture in the morning.

2 hours later and the party was raging.  I couldn't sleep because of the music and laughter coming from the next room and eventually I went out and politely asked if they could keep it down so I could sleep.  Matty was all charm and apologies.  The noise was turned down and I had almost gotten to sleep when my bedroom door was opened.

'I'm just coming to say sorry', Matty said so all our friends could hear.  Then he closed the bedroom door and approached me with his arms open as if to embrace me. Before I could react he had one hand over my nose and mouth while he used his other hand to punch me over and over again in the chest.  When he was finished I knew enough to keep quiet.  He returned to our guests the music went up the chatting and laughter continued and I silently cried myself to sleep.

There would be many more nights like this which I learned either to endure or to react to - which was always the wrong move as then the beatings would be much worse.  I was a fool to myself, but to ashamed and too proud to admit my mistakes.  I kept thinking that eventually things would get better.  Of course they didn't it just became a never ending circle of love and violence which I could never predict.  Thankfully by the end of that year I had the opportunity to lessen my exposure to Matty although it came at the cost of 'our relationship'........

REFLECTIVE DAZE

'Until the morning sun appears
Making light of all my fears
I dry the tears I've never shown
out here on my own

But when I'm down and feeling blue
I close my eyes so I can be with you
Oh, baby, be strong for me
Baby, belong to me
Help me through
Help me need you...'

I had a dream a few nights ago.  It made me realize many things.  Why I am writing this blog, why I am still fixated with Matty, why my addictive personality would steer my life and why I am the way I am.

It wasn't a dream about Matty hitting me - something which would continue to happen for another 4 years - but more frighteningly it was a dream about the quiet, menacing promise of another beating.  The realisation that for nearly 10 years I let someone completely dominate me both mentally and physically.  The realisation that my acceptance of this life was a combination of many factors over which I had no control.

All my life I had been a 'loner'.  Being the youngest child and only boy in the family.  Growing up with my parents values which, although well intentioned, left psychological barriers which I never learnt to adjust to.  I lived my life in a conflicting world of what I wanted to do and what I thought my parents wanted me to do.

Growing up in a staunchly, old-fashioned Catholic family.  Growing up with a father who had never had a childhood.  Growing up with a mother whose values were way out of date with the times we lived in. Growing up knowing I was different and having to hide that difference as best I could.  All of these factors left mental scars on me which took me nearly 45 years to recognize.

From my father I inherited my addictive personality.  My whole childhood was spent running after my father's addictions.  First it was gem hunting, then tropical fish, then horse racing, then gardening.  Whatever hobby my father took up it consumed all his free time, all his energy, and all our spare money.  We were forced to go along with it.  Even today my father is still consumed by his hobbies...

From my mother I inherited my warped sense of loyalty.  "I made a vow until death us do part"....my sense of pride - she was always concerned with 'what will the neighbours think' and imagined that our family was a cut above our neighbours.  My childhood friendships were monitored by my mother.  No one in the neighbourhood was good enough and therefore my only chance at making friends was always done clandestinely.  On top of that I grew up in a 'straight world' where masculinity was the only way of gaining acceptance.  I quickly learned to act the part.

I never had close friends who accepted me for what I was. I grew used to either being someone I wasn't or when bullied and humiliated for being a 'faggot' I learnt to hide my shame and retreated into my private world.

The only time in my life I truly had a 'friend' was the few short years between 1982 and 1985 when I was with Billy.  We were two young boys with similar backgrounds and similar personalities.  We shared a bed, we shared our friends, our lives and we shared our most intimate hopes and fears.  Before Billy and after it would be many years until I found both the strength and loyalty of true friends with whom I could confide in.  In between were just a bunch of people who came and went.  Our only real connections were prostitution and drugs.

 There are many things I have neglected to mention in previous journals.  Not because I am ashamed but because there is only so much you can write about in one go.  But many of these little incidents partly justify my loyalty to Matty and my staying with him to the end - no matter how bad things got, and believe me, they would get worse over the ensuing few years we had left together.

When I was 15, I wagged school sport one afternoon and went to my cousin's house.  He hadn't been at school for the day so I figured he was at home.  At the time he was living with his father and another elderly man in the house where, coincidently,  my first childhood friend had lived.  The 'lodger' let me in and told me my cousin wasn't home but I could wait.  He was getting ready to go to work his night shift and left me waiting in my cousins bedroom.  And yes, when he came out of the shower he forcefully raped me and left me stunned and ashamed. He told me that if I said anything that he would tell my parents I had wagged school - I would have been caned at school and my father would have taken his belt to me.  It was less painful to remain silent.

  Weeks later I got my revenge by going back and using the 'key under the mat' to let myself in and steal over $100 from the man's room.  It wasn't until 2004 when I met up with my cousin after almost 40 years that not only did I find out that my cousin had taken the blame for the theft but also that he had spent nearly two years subjected to this man's depravity while his own father was either at work or too drunk to see what was happening.


In my first months of 'running away from home' I had spent nights on the street.  Dossed down in filthy squats with heroin addicts, or sleeping with 'dirty old men' who were Social Workers during the day and preyed upon their young, vulnerable  clients in the evenings.  I had slept in boarding houses where the filth and cockroaches were so bad that I chose to live in a brothel rather than face another night in such disgusting premises.

I had seen, and taken part in, dumping overdosed prostitutes out of windows and into back lanes so the parlour would not have to deal with the repercussions. I had stood in a doctor's surgery holding the stab wound of a young boy together while the doctor stitched it up after he had been knifed by another drug crazed boy at the hostel where he was living - after the stitching I had promptly fainted in the bathroom of the surgery.

I had listened to the tragic stories of dozens of young boys and girls whose childhoods made mine seem like the Brady Bunch.  I had seen and done more than most people could ever imagine.

Yet in the years I was with Matty I lost all sense of the strong, individual that I had become.  My drug habit, which was originally recreational became a strong psychological dependence in which I could hide my fears and (real or imagined) failings from the world.  I didn't talk to anyone about my desperate circumstances.  I got stoned, I took speed or cocaine, I walked my dog and I kept my terrifying reality to myself.

I stayed with him out of a warped sense of pride, loyalty and my own fear of losing my self esteem and losing the domestic harmony I pretended to the world I had.  I was terrified of losing my semi - independence , ending up back in the world of the half-dead, losing my dog, losing face.  I had the most beautiful boy in the world and he had me.  Right down to his dying day he had me where he wanted me.

That's not to say that I didn't realize this.  I would take steps to re-gain my independence, to re-gain my sense of self worth and to make something out of my life.  The road would be harder than I imagined, the sacrifices often humiliating, the end tragically pathetic.  But I did make it, or so I thought.