His Name was Ron Part 1

His name was Ron. No last name. I never knew his last name. He was 40, a bit chunky, and in that moment seemed kind of exciting. 

This was summer of 1984. I was taking summer classes at Indiana University in Bloomington. I had come out to myself the year before. I was young, gay, and ready to meet a man.

Check that date again - 1984! We were a few years into the AIDS epidemic, but to those of us in Indiana, AIDS happened in San Francisco, New York or Chicago. So the idea of safe sex was still a bit foreign. Also, 1984 was a different time to be gay. Most men were still in the closet. Being out and proud was not on most of our lips. We were young and horny.

Cruising was how you met men. On campus, you would meet guys on the third floor of the union, or some bathroom in Ballentine(classroom building). Here is how it went at the union(my place of choice), you sat on one of a few plush chairs or sofas near the men's room. Men came up the escalator, scanned the chairs to see if there was anyone interesting, and then gave you a look. They would head down a very long hallway to the men's room, see if you were following, then go in and stand at a urinal and wait. 

I don't remember the date, though I am certain it was a Saturday. I was sitting on a couch, trying to look cute(or I hoped seductive). Guys would come by, but no takers for me, For other guys, but not me, At one point this one guy came into the area, he scanned the room, and decided to sit near me, I could feel him staring at me, so I gave a coy look(Yeah I was that kind of guy). He smiled and rubbed his crotch. Well, I didn't need to house to fall on me to know he was interested. I smiled. 

He got up and began to walk to the hallway. He gave a look back, my heart was beating fast, and he headed down the hallway. I counted to 10, then I got up to go down the hallway. He was at the door, looking to see if I would follow. He nodded, and went in. I swear my heart was pounding so hard, I thought anyone nearby would hear it. I went in, and there he was at the urinal. I stood in the next urinal. He backed up slightly so I could get an eyeful. Not knowing if this was what I was supposed to do, I did the same. He smiled, leaned in and said, "My name's Ron." I nervously said hello and introduced myself. He asked me if I wanted to go home with him. I nodded, speechless. I couldn't believe it. This would be my first time, and this guy wanted me. 

We left the union together and walked through campus. He told me he worked as a dishwasher for one of the dorms, and lived on campus. I told him I was a student. He said, "You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to." I assured him I wanted to. He smiled, and told me how cute I was.

When you are young and gay, at least at this time in history, there was no Queer as Folk, Will and Grace, or Heartstopper. There was no one to tell you what to expect, or, more importantly, what to look out for. 

We got to his apartment, I walked in, and in that moment, the world, and Ron changed. He locked the door, and began to put his hands all over me. He roughly kissed me, and started telling me how much he loved me. He claimed he had been watching me for a long time. My mind was going a million miles a minute. I thought how wrong this all seemed, something wasn't right. He pushed me on to the bed, and put his body on top of me. He was now forcibly kissing me, and saying over and over again how much in love he was with me. 

Soon, and from where it came from I don't know, he showed me a knife. He told me I better do what he wanted, or I wouldn't leave alive. Two things were on my mind; first was fear, the second was to be calm. I had read somewhere that when a woman was being raped, it was to her advantage to be calm, and not risk any further pain or injury. For what seemed like an eternity, he attacked me. I would call it sex, but this was an attack. I was trying not to cry, scream, or anything. I just wanted it to be over. 

Eventually it was over. I lad there, and he looked down at me and said, "How'd you like doing it in front of Jesus?" I looked up and there was a picture of Christ on the wall. I said, "It was ok." He talked to me about how I could never leave, that I would have to stay with him forever. He wanted to film us the next time, and wouldn't that be cool. I quietly nodded. I was worried I would never be allowed to leave, or he might kill me. 

Somewhere in my mind, I came up with something, and said, "I need to go. I'm meeting some folks at the library for a project, and they'll be worried if I don't show up." He said, "I'll let you go only if you promise to come back." I nodded and told him I would. I got up, got dressed, said goodbye, and quickly left. When I got outside the building, I ran. I ran as fast as I could back to my dorm. I got to my room, locked the door, laid on my bed and cried. I cried for a long time. 

I knew I needed help, but I didn't want to call the police. Again, this was 1984, in Indiana. A young man does NOT call the police to tell them he was raped. I knew there was a gay Episcopal priest in town, so I called him. He told me he was about to go to a party, and was this important. I told him what happened. He told me he couldn't miss the party, and could I come to his office Monday morning. I told him I would. He told me to call again if I needed. I hung up, cried, and stayed in bed for the next 24 hours.