Poor little me! A story about the Victim “Me”…


Has anyone ever told you

You need to learn to live on your own. Be independent, and learn to love yourself. Then only you can share your life with another?

Well… I have heard it many times. I am 40 years old now, and single. I have had very brief relationships. One intense eight weeks, that started my blogging journey.

Why intense? I have never had it before.

Upto date, I am pushing myself to be resillient, and be independent. Somehow I feel that the “world around me” demands me to do so.

But, I often feel, I can’t do this anymore. Especially in the last few days, I’ve been crying randomly locked myself in the toilet calling out to God asking him to help me as

I cannot do this anymore. I cannot do this independent thing anymore

Was I independent or was I coping?

I am unsure. But if I forget about the happy days, and just think of the sad days, my story goes like this.

I was a very effiminate boy going to an all boys school. It was also a “Sinhala Buddhist”. Not only I was bullied from age of 6 for my effiminate nature, I had to hide the fact that my father was a Malay/Muslim to the school. My father never came for any of my price givings. Mostly because he was not in the country.

Then, it happens to turn-out that I am gay. Being gay is illegal upto date in Sri Lanka. I recall when I realized this, writing to the Dutch Government asking for help. They responded to me, saying that I need to speak to some human rights thing.

Meanwhile, I went to all the Buddhist temples, Hindu temples, Christian Churches, an Islam Mosque, and even worshiped Sathya Sai Baba. I prayed them to change me. I prayed, that if I am hellbound, to please help change me.

I had not fully experienced sex yet. But I had desire for flesh.

Desire for flesh!

The greatest sin of all time as per well accomplished teachers!

While sinning with my desire for flesh, I was being independent. No one knew all of my journey. For someone who had friends, and family, the biggest hurdle of their life was now travelled alone.

Was it independence or coping?

Let’s talk about sex!

I had a brief romance, but it didn’t last. I blame the society for this. We had to go our own way. Anyhow, my fucked-up life started after this.

Throughout my life in Sri Lanka, in my normal circles, no one really liked me physically. Either I was too fat, or too this, or too that. I used to be quite straight-forward in nature, and wasn’t really shy if I had to talk to someone. When me and my gay friends were out and about, if some guy would check us out, I was the one to go and do the talking. Of course, they never liked me, they always end up telling me that they were keen on one of my friends.

I pretended to take this painlessly. But I was hurt. One after the next, I was rejected. One after the next, I was told I was unworthy of love.

This made me do “Solo journey” into sexual activity. Let’s list out the types of “romances” I’ve had in Sri Lanka

Romance Category 1:

No one is around. It would be just me. A flirting that would lead to them inviting me to go somewhere. Often this was in my car.

Yes! What an Idiot. Why would you take a stranger into your car!

Well, why not? When I’m with my friends. The boys that I talk to are also strangers. They seem to always work-out. Not to mention, I do the talking there too!

But, no. These strangers, would treat me nice for a while, and then the robbing, bashing, and the rest starts. Once, I even parked right in front of a police station. But that didn’t stop them, they stole my belongings, and got off the car.

I was physically weak. So I never fought back. So, usually my “Romance” of this category, would always end up in me being robbed and bashed.

Romance Category 2:

Let’s just put this category as Sri Lankan police. I’ve had my luck with them. I may not be able to go back home after writing this much about them. But it’s ok. My life is already fucked. Why should I care? right!! Worst case scenario is that they murder me. Meh!

In this category, I have been gullible enough to beleive a couple of casually clothed boys, who later found out to be cops. Once again, would lead up to bashing, robbing, or even raping. Yay for me!

Romance Category 3:

They treat me nice, if and only if I buy them a hotel room and fried rice! True story. I have to do all the paying for everything, and then I get treated “nice”. Well not really. Generally speaking, I have to please them. I am just a piece of flesh for them to stick their things in.

Romance Category 4:

There were some romances that worked out ok. But, it always ended up being something like “I can’t do this to my parents, so this temporary thing is going to end”.

There were many other versions of these romances, but none of them made me feel any special.

Why did I keep banging on the door thinking the next one will be my romeo?

Who fucking knew! Maybe I don’t learn.

Or better yet,

Desire for flesh!

The greatest sin as per well accomplished teachers.

Meanwhile since 24 years of age, i was supporting my single mother financially. I also looked after my demented grandfather. He died few months before i migrated to Australia at the age of 30.

I also supported my mom financially the first 3 years I was in Australia. Before I tried to find myself, and crashed. I also sent her to Buddhagaya, a “good merit” a “Buddhist boy” could earn, by sending their parents to worship where the Buddha was born.

I never burdened my family with my “Romances” in Sri Lanka, including being raped by the police or being bashed and stolen from. They were all kept to myself.

So was that being resilient? Did I know to love myself.

Now, at the age of 40, I feel ashamed if I’m attraceted to a good looking guy. I feel like “How could a dirt bag like me like them?”

I am addicted to drugs. I am addicted to cigarettes. I am apparently addicted to sex (although now, I can’t even approach the topic with another guy. I spend my time stuck in a room not knowing what to do).

I am also taking psychotherapy about “How to approach a guy”.

Oh Dear Lord! Where are you really? I have gone through a lot of pain, yet I am on training to learn to be resillient and learn to love myself.

Where are you?

Maybe I will write about the “Victim Me” of Australia.

It marks 20 year anniversary since I came out as gay for Christmas day this year. So maybe I’ll talk about the last 10 years as well.

Until then.. To be continued…

P.S: Later the same day, I wrote below article, which is not about the next 10 years of “Victimhood”, but the same 10 years from a different angle. Check it out


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