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.

IN BETWEEN DAZE....

Ooh, and it's all right and its coming on
We're gonna get right back where we started from.
Love can be good, love can be strong.
We're gonna get right back where we started from....

We closed shop. Just like that.  One day we were running a brothel and the next day we were hastily shoving our possessions into a rental truck and moving to a whole new life.  We found a cute little Edwardian detached house a few suburbs away and left the seedy world of prostitution behind us - well almost.

Matty was now working full time in the radio room of a taxi company and I was left with no job, a six week wait until I could claim social security benefits, but best of all without the stress of trying to make a failing business work.  I wasn't stupid though.  Our rental on the parlour was due on the first Monday of the month, we left on the last Sunday of the month with $1200 in our pockets.  Not only that but I had the phone numbers of a few regular clients so financially things weren't as grim as they seemed.

Amazingly the move, and Matty's becoming the breadwinner, seemed to change our relationship for the better.  Like all bullies Matty was in his element now that he believed he was in control.  For the first time in nearly 5 years he was playing top dog and I was under his control.  He happily paid the rent and gave me money for groceries and drugs.  Even more happily he now assumed he was controlling my drug supply and revelled in his misconceived dominance over me.

What he didn't know was the during the hours he was away, from 2pm till midnight 5 days a week, I was seeing regular clients at least 3 times a week, and was able to supply my own drugs which he had no idea about.  All I had to do was play housewife while he was home and when he was at work my life was my own.

I revelled in the freedom.  I revelled in the domesticity and I revelled in the ability to finally have time own my own.  To do what I wanted and how I wanted.  The change in both of us was incredible.  Now Matty felt he was in control he was happy to resume our sexual relationship, although we now had separate rooms.  In the mornings we would spend a few hours between him waking and going to work getting stoned off his rationed drugs and when he returned home I would wake up and we would spend a few hours smoking, munching out on whatever I had prepared in the evening, then end up having great sex before he went back to his own room to sleep.

This change of lifestyle also made a dramatic improvement on his health.  He was rarely sick and in fact his T-cell count rose dramatically.  It was 2 months of domestic bliss.  He worked, I went op - shopping in the adjoining suburb Newtown and refurnished the house with some incredibly cheap Edwardian furniture and turned our small back yard into an English country garden.

It didn't take long however before the rent money started running out and I had to start looking for a full time job.  Again, I could have fronted up at any of the gay or straight brothels and easily have gotten a job.  But I didn't want to.  I had seen enough and been through enough to realize that it was time to make a change.

Surprisingly two things happened which gave me both direction and hope.  The first was that my 'good sister' and her husband invited me up to spend a few days with them.  I had hardly had any contact with them for the past 5 years but I went.  It was a pleasant, if boring time.  They had two young daughters and taking drugs with me was out of the question.  It wasn't until the last day that my brother in law took me aside and gave me a really unexpected talking to.

He didn't judge me but he made it clear that he knew exactly what I had been doing and that perhaps it was 'time I grew up' and thought about my future.  He pointed out that while I may have assumed I was having the time of my life, that I had been steadily destroying not only my self, but also my chances of having a successful future.  It was definitely food for thought.

On my return Matty told me that he had managed to get me a job in the taxi company starting almost immediately.  He had made such a good impression on his bosses (that was part of his charm) that they were happy  to employ me on his recommendation.

I couldn't say no.  I didn't have any other career options and here I was being offered a full time job and all I had to do was show up.  I was confident that I could last 8 hours without getting stoned - the first time in years - but I was terrified that I would have to work with 'normal people'.  I mean all I had known for the past 5 years were prostitutes, pimps and clients.  I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to adjust.

I can still recall my absolute terror of walking up the stairs and knocking on the office door.  When it opened I was totally taken aback. The room was long and set up with two rows of work stations on either side of a manual conveyor belt which backed on to identical rows of glass booths which was where the radio operators worked.  What hit me was that the room was full of 'cool looking' people - hippies, drag queens, gay guys, lesbians.....it was obvious that this was a place I could fit in.

I was given a two hour induction in which I was shown the workings of the company.  It was a lot to take in but I was able to sit down and start work under supervision for the first hour and then eventually be left on my own to take the easiest calls (cash calls) and get my head around the conveyor belt system.

It wasn't easy.  This was pre-computer days so all bookings were written on different coloured paper slips (depending upon they type of booking) and then had to be placed into the correct chute for the pick up area.  By the end of the shift I was flying.  I had always had a polite speaking voice and my writing was neat and legible, I had no hesitation in sending any difficult calls to the supervisor (I mastered the switchboard easily) and by the end of the night I was told to come again the following evening where my roster would be allotted to me.  I was back in the real world.......It wasn't the most exciting or challenging of jobs (in fact it was quite monotonous to begin with) but it was a real, legitimate job and the start of a new life.....

To top it off, besides my own friendly social skills I had the added advantage of being Matty's 'friend' and everyone was keen to be as friendly and helpful to me as possible.  Life was looking good.  

It was a whole new world for me and I revelled in it.  New friends, new skills, and most importantly the dramatic realisation that I was good at something other than the sex industry.

DARKEST DAZE... (part 3)

Through early morning fog I see
visions of the things to be
the pains that are withheld for me
I realize and I can see...
that suicide is painless
it brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.

Dazed and numb I waited until I was sure that Matty was asleep.  I crept out the back door and stumbled my way through the cold early morning towards Central Bus station. I had no idea how I must have looked but being early morning there weren't many people around to notice me.

It was still too early for the buses and I had to wait nearly 40 minutes for the first bus to arrive.  The bus station is located on one of Sydney's busiest intersections, a triangle between 5 intersections, one of them being the main road leading from the city to the western suburbs.  It was sitting here that I contemplated many times stepping out onto the road and letting a car or truck end all my pain and humiliation.

The bus station, with it's many interchange sections, was, and still is, a haven for the homeless, spending the night asleep on the metal seats.  Their garbage bags or shopping trolleys filled with their only possessions pushed tight against them.  No one paid any attention to me as I sat miserably huddled on a seat by myself.  I would look at the traffic, torn between throwing myself in front of a vehicle, and then look around me and see the refuse of society, asleep and oblivious to the cruel reality of my world.

I remembered my mothers words, 'no matter how bad you feel, there is always someone in the world worse off than you'.  And here, at the lowest of lows I could look around and understand her words.  So I sat and waited for the bus which eventually arrived.  This was in fact the hardest part of all.  The driver took one look at me ( I had no idea that I was bruised and the back of my head was matted with blood from where I had been bashed against the wall) and refused to take my money.  He just asked if I needed to go to hospital!  I told him, through my tears, that I had friends who would look after me and that's where I was going.

Arriving at Steven's apartment I was met by his wife.  It was not even 7.30 and Steven was still asleep.  Margaret, his wife, took one look at me and held me fast.  It wasn't until then that I realised how badly bruised and physically damaged I was.  She didn't ask any questions but sat me gently down and made me a cup of tea and passed me a bong and marijuana to go with it.  After a while she told me she had run a warm bath and led me there, helping me to remove my clothes.  I will never forget the look on her face as she undressed me and saw my chest and stomach covered in cigarette burns and bruises.

After the bath she came with ointment and carefully applied it to each of the 15 or more cigarette burns, which by now were starting to puss and blister.  I can't describe how I felt.  I was numb with pain, numb with shock and mortified that I had reached such a humiliating position.  My only fears were for my dog Toby who was still back at the house and possibly getting harmed by Matty.  I had no choice leaving him as I honestly believed that had I stayed, when Matty awoke he would have continued physically abusing me.

When Steven finally awoke and I got my story out he asked me what I wanted him to do.  I only wanted the abuse to stop.  I still loved Matty, I still wanted to run a successful parlour and I still  wanted to live the lifestyle I was living.  Steven assured me that I had nothing to worry about anymore but that I had to trust him.  Armed with enough comfort, assurance and totally stoned I let Steven drive me back to the house and leave me there to face Matty alone.

As usual with Matty, when he woke up, sometime around 12pm, he not only had no idea that I had even left, but was totally apologetic and upset with his actions.  He even went out and brought grass from somewhere so we could smoke together.  For the first time I could remember he not only packed the bongs but also took control of the business, answering phone calls, looking after the clients and telling the boys who had come to work that I was feeling sick and to let me be.......I don't think any of them believed him but they needed money so were happy to sit the day in the front room waiting for jobs and not bother me.

However, every time they came through the kitchen to use the bathroom, I was aware of their sympathetic staring and quiet understanding of what had happened during the night.

Shortly after 7pm Steven arrived accompanied by three enormous, Maori thugs.  With out any warning they simply marched through the house and into the kitchen where they grabbed Matty and commenced beating the life out of him.  Unbelievably I was stunned and scared for Matty.  Rushing forward to intervene and try and help Matty, I was held back by one of the heavies and forced to watch Matty getting bashed to within an inch of his life. To his credit he never once made a sound or tried to justify himself, he knew what he had done and he knew he deserved what he was getting.

When it was all over, Steven calmly said that he would be ending the business and we had one month to close up and move out.  He also warned Matty that if he touched me again that they would kill him.  Matty limped upstairs to bed and I spent an hour with Steven, getting lectured on my stupidity for allowing myself to get into these circumstances.  He also promised me that he would always have a place for me to go and money if I wanted to leave Matty.

So basically that was the end of my prostitution and brothel days.  Within two weeks Matty had found a full time job  and with Steven's help I managed to find us a house to rent.  It would be a calm few months.  Months where my lifestyle was compromised completely but months in which I was finally feeling safe......