When I open my eyes in the morning, a wave of sadness quickly envelopes me. I wake up with the painful realization that the only woman I have truly loved left me because of an innocent mistake I made. I can’t even blame her or call her a bad person for choosing herself over my perversions. This is my story.

I was molested by a male guardian when I was about eight years old. It happened about three times. Each time, I was quiet. He didn’t threaten me into silence. No, that was not why I couldn’t tell anyone. I just happened to have a father who was highly critical of everything I did. He was always ready to call me all sorts of names if I did something wrong. This made me extremely quiet, shy, and timid.

I was sure my perfectionistic dad would blame me for what that man did. I never matched his expectations so I grew up into this fearful boy who always preferred the shadows. Never wanting to be seen or heard. Always content with being invisible. I believe that was what my abuser counted on, my fearfulness.

After that awful ordeal with my male guardian, I found myself drawn to the company of men. I liked it when they gave me compliments and I enjoyed being around them. For me, it wasn’t a thing of attraction. It had to do with familiarity. My first exposure to sex was with an older man who showed me kindness, painfully penetrated me, and then said he loved me. I was eight. What was loving about me at that tender age?

What he did was wrong but it was what I knew. When I got to the university I met another older. He is almost twice my age. I don’t know what he saw in me that made him get close to me. I don’t know what he saw when he got close that told him I would be okay receiving compliments about my looks from another man but it happened. I liked it when he complimented my looks.

This man was my lecturer so he wasn’t someone I could easily avoid. After a while, he took me to the beach. I enjoyed the time we spent together there. So when he took me to his room and started making advances toward me, I went with it. This time around, I was not a child. I was twenty-two. He did not force himself on me. Everything that happened was consensual.

He was married, but we kept an on-and-off relationship on the side. We kept going until I broke things off because I couldn’t live with the guilt that consumed my soul after every sexual encounter with him.

After him, I hopped on certain apps that allowed me to meet men. I would go on the app, find people near me and we would meet up for shuperu. I did that. I slept with men on and off camp until I graduated.

I thought that was going to be life until I started my national service. It was then I met Beth. She is the exact opposite of me. She is extroverted. She never ran out of things to talk about. Unlike me, a wallflower, Beth is always the life of the party.

She saw me when others dismissed me. She gave me a chance when I didn’t know I could ever be with a girl. She was the first person I ever talked to about what my uncle did. The first person I opened up to about the experiences I had had with other guys in the University.

When I met her, the feeling was different. It was genuine and pure. It wasn’t filthy or wild or weird like my experiences with men. She helped me to find a therapist, and in the next few months, I went for sessions and saw the reasons I was acting out.

It was more than the abuse I experienced as a child. It was also a form of rebellion toward my dad who had been extremely hard on me. I thought I would marry my Beth. She was like a savior to me, a real angel. I miss her so dearly, but how can I justify what I did to us? How can anyone not blame me for rekindling a passion I was trying to bury?

READ ALSO: I Made The Right Choice But Nobody Won

I know it was my fault. I opened the door the moment I allowed an old flame to creep back into my life. We were just chatting. He expressed an interest in meeting me, so we could do things.

He told me all the things he thought I needed to hear. I listened but I told him I was no longer into that lifestyle. To stir up my interest, he sent me some adult videos with men in them. I should have deleted them immediately but I didn’t. Rather, I chose to ignore them. It was an innocent mistake because I had no intention of getting back into that life.

Unfortunately, Beth went into my gallery and found the videos. She was so hurt that she didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. She said a lot of things to me when she chose to end things but one sentence stuck with me. “You are broken beyond repair.” That’s what she said.

It has been four months since she left me, but I am still as broken as the day she called me broken. I still wake up with a big wave of sadness in my heart. I try to numb my pain by hopping on to my apps looking for the next available guy. Maybe this loveless life of mine is the punishment I deserve for coming into this world.

—Frank

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

#SB