I met Brad* (*name changed) when I was 15 and he was 23. I got a job at a local restaurant he managed. It took me all of maybe 10 minutes to realize that I was more mature than him but I liked him; everybody liked him. He was a simple, very nice guy that didn’t drink or smoke or do drugs. A scout leader as well as being an eagle scout himself.
We all picked on each other a lot, but we were a tight “family” and it was all in good fun and humor. Brad was one of the oldest (though there were a couple in our “gang” that were in their 30s and 40s, most were in their teens and 20s) and the only virgin, so naturally we ragged on him about that a lot. I continued working at that restaurant for the next two years and made friendships that are still strong today.
Over the years, as Brad got older and the kids working at the restaurant stayed the same age (due to the “revolving door” employment at many restaurants), he succumbed to peer pressure and started drinking and smoking pot quite often. Soon he was partying almost every night and doing heavier drugs like acid, cocaine, and ecstacy. One night while drunk and on acid and ecstacy, we went back to my house (I was the DD so completely sober) and he got into some pretty heavy petting with another guy, including toe-sucking and other sensual/sexual things. We always kind of thought Brad might be gay and this just reinforced our suspicions. On my 20th birthday I should’ve known for sure but he was still denying it and I was still blaming his behavior on the drugs (especially the ecstacy.)
I had a party that night and, as the night was winding down (meaning the sun was coming up), I went and laid down in my bed. I was pretty tanked and just sort of laid there, half asleep as the room spun. Brad came and laid down on the futon that was perpendicular to my bed and pretty soon I felt him reaching around in my bed, patting his hands. I remember laying there thinking What the hell is he looking for? Well, soon his hand found my leg and starting rubbing it and moving up higher and I was thinking What the hell is this ass doing? so I rolled over out of his reach, too drunk to do much else, and forgot about it for a few minutes. Well, I guess he scooted up further on the futon because pretty soon he was doing the same damn thing, and despite my body telling me it was going to puke if I had to stand up, I forced myself to get up and walk out of the room. I went out to the back porch where a few stragglers were still talking in the early morning light and Brad was immediately behind me. After about a minute I realized that he wasn’t going to stop gawking at me and groping me, and I was again feeling incredibly uncomfortable, so I went in the computer room. There I sat Indian-style on the chair and boom, there was Brad again, squatting next to me and massaging my foot. I think I eventually sat in the bathroom with the door locked until I was sure he was passed out, and then I slept in another room.
I didn’t talk to Brad for a couple months after that, despite still working next door to the old restaurant and seeing him almost every day. The whole ordeal was creepier in person than it probably sounds from reading about it and it really made me feel uncomfortable around him for awhile. I felt violated.
Eventually though we were on good terms again, and I got to the point where I felt fine around him and pretty much forgot it ever happened. About a year and a half ago I moved across the country and soon after he came out of the closet. I thought “good for him” and the general consensus was “good, he’ll be happier now.”
I hadn’t seen him since before he moved but every-so-often I would talk to him briefly on the internet. He told me about his 18 year old live-in boyfriend and I thought :dubious: but legal, and Brad is very immature so I guess I can’t say I was shocked. Let me take a moment to explain what I mean by “immature”. Brad slobers. He laughs, excessively, at any joke, and he still makes puff-paint shirts and shorts with his mother for the whole family to wear on their annual family vacation. My sister knew him for years before she found out that he wasn’t actually mentally challenged.
This weekend I went back home to marry two long-time friends of mine (I’m an ordained minister) and saw Brad for the first time since he came out of the closet. I also saw his boyfriend. Skinny as a twig, wearing super-tight jeans, high-heels, full make-up including lipstick, hair done, and a belly shirt. He also had mysteriously fatty breasts for such an incredibly skinny guy, which, in addition to a baby-face, virtually no body or facial hair, and an unnatturally high voice, lead most everyone to believe right away that he was on female hormones.
Well, he wouldn’t talk all night, he just kind of hung on Brad’s shoulder and stared at people. He was obviously a troubled and social maladjusted young man. After many attempts to start a conversation with him (he was one of those people that would answer any question yes or no and the avoid further elaboration or even eye contact), I tried asking him how old he was, even though I “knew” he was 18.
“Seventeen,” he replied.
“What?!! Brad told me you were 18!” I said, a little surprised.
“Oh, he tells everybody that. I just turned seventeen, and we’ve been living together since I just turned sixteen.”
I yelled “BRAD!” and he just kind of giggled. “You’re 30!”
His boyfriend had finally decided to start talking. “Oh that’s nothing, he’s done 14 year olds.”
I screamed at him.
“13, even”
I didn’t know what else to do, I hit him. Hard. Right in the temple. He’s a pretty big guy, and virtually immune to pain (that’s a whole other story) but I know he felt it. He laughed it off and they decided to leave. I told him it was good to see him but in all honesty the whole thing really bothered me.
I started freaking out and putting two and two together. "13. He was a scoutleader. 13. And that’s what he admitted to. 13. He had tried to coerce me, but I was 20. I had the confidence, maturity, and mental capacity to resist. 17. His boyfriend is 17 and on hormones. Is Brad getting them for him? Is he forcing him to take them so he can be his little girl? Just what the hell is going on here?
This was Friday night and I still can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t know what to do. Brad’s mental age is about 12 or 13, and it was slap-you-in-the-face obvious that he really didn’t understand what was so wrong about him fucking a 13 year old.
Part of me feels like I should somehow force him to get counseling; tell him that if he doesn’t start going to therapy and sending me his doctor’s invoices every week, I’m going to turn him in. This whole plan would have to ride on him not calling my bluff, because I have zero evidence and I doubt the police would waste time doing an investigation.
Another part of me just feels completely helpless :(.
No matter what course of action I take from here, my friendship with him is over. If I force him to get counseling he will hate me. If he doesn’t, I will hate him. If he goes to jail, I’ll never see him again. So I’m not worried at all about preserving our friendship at this point.