His Name was Ron Part 2

 I cried and stayed in my bed for about 24 hours. I didn't eat. My eyes were raw from tears. I was an emotional mess. I was also really pissed that when I called for help from the priest at the local Episcopal church, that his attending a party was more important than dealing with a tearful young gay man who had just been raped. 

I met the priest on Monday morning. I tearfully told him all the details. He sat at his desk, listening, smoking a cigarette. When I was done he said, "First of all you've done nothing wrong." So much had gone through my mind following what happened. I blamed myself. I blamed myself for cruising. I blamed myself for going to the men's room, and I definitely blamed myself for going with him. The priest told me that Ron was responsible for this. Sure, I went with him, but he was the one who was violent. I was the innocent party. It took me  a lot of therapy to come to the conclusion that this was not my fault. 

He told me contacting the university or Bloomington police would not be wise, after all, my name might be in the paper, and I wasn't out to my family. Why risk the shame and embarrassment. 2024 Charlie would have called the police, and anyone else who would have gotten this man. 1984 Charlie was confident in being gay, but not ready to tell his family, for fear of losing them. 

I left his office not really feeling better....and had to figure all this out on my own. 

Therapy was what got me through a lot of this. There is a large part I am not telling, because I want to get to the end, and the story is long, winding, and will be told later. 

Flash to 1987. After a brief exit from IU, I came back, determined to be a stronger, better person. At this point I was ready to have a positive gay life, and not have it dictated by my rape. I joined the Gay and Lesbian Switchboard of Bloomington. Sean Hammond, the late founder of the switchboard, was the first trans man I ever met, and he was wonderful. He took me under his wing, and really introduced me to the political side of being a gay man. We had fight on our hands as bigoted Republicans, led by Ronald Reagan were ignoring the AIDS crisis and demonizing gay men, and those with AIDS. I wanted to help people, so I volunteered to answer the phone at the switchboard. 

One night, the phone rang, I answered. The voice on the other end said, "I'm  40, fat and lonely, and I need a man," It was Ron. He was calling the switchboard for advice, and he asked me out. Calmly I told him no. He asked if it was because he was 40 fat and lonely. I told him, it had nothing to do with that. I'm not on the phone for dates or hookups. He hung up, but he would call again, and it ended the same way, every time.

Move to 1998. I went to an OUT meeting. I had tried once before to go to a gay/lesbian meeting, but it scared me, and I was nervous. I was a few years older now, and I was ready to meet people for friends. I went in, and was amazed at the turnout. There were about 30 people there. Laughing, smiling, and talking. There was also Ron. Ron was at the meeting, cruising. I was scared. I ran.

I headed to the library where my roommate and friend Jeff was working. He asked how the meeting went. I told him what happened. Jeff put his hands on his hips and barked, "Miss Thing, you march yourself back to that meeting, and you meet people! Don't let this asshole keep you from having fun."

I marched back. Ok, I walked back. I got a drink, and then Ron came up to me. "Excuse me," he said, "Have we met before?" I looked him in the eyes and said, "No, we've never met." He asked if I would like to go out with him, and I simply said no and walked away. I felt like the world was lifted off my shoulders. I felt strong. Two meetings later I became to organizations first president, and would lead the IU gay community forward.