Share a time when you were overcome with guilt. What were the circumstances? How did you overcome your guilt?
It was when I was still living at home with mum. I had met this guy who, back then, I thought was so hot. He was also a former dancer, and I’d met him several years prior, but only when we competed against each other.
It was purely by chance that we happened to bump into each other and this time we were both a bit older… he was only 2 years older than me, but back then, although I was 18, the thought of even seeing another guy freaked the shit out of me, let alone seeing a guy that was older than me. It was outrageous.
It was also a complete secret.
Because I was juggling so many different things during this time: studying full time, dancing at two separate studios, plus rehearsals for a musical theatre production; I literally felt as though I was doing 18-20hr days… Then I met B.
He turned up to one of our dance rehearsals as he was friends with one of the other guys in the show, and I remember being half-way through one of my routines in the show and I looked up and he was suddenly sitting right in my direct line of sight, and he was staring right at me. He smiled and I completely forgot what I was doing.
I was a bit infatuated with this guy. I was so in awe of him when we used to compete because he was such an amazing dancer, but he was so god damn full of himself and so arrogant. He knew he was incredible, and everybody was beneath him. If I met him now, I’d be so disgusted, but back then, I hated him, and I was jealous of him.
After that rehearsal, I just left straight away. I couldn’t think properly, I was so exhausted, I just went home and crashed.
The next night, he turned up again, and I coudn’t focus. Why was he even there in the first place? During our rehearsal break, G comes over to me and he’s like ‘Oh my god, so, that guy over there can’t stop talking about you. He wanted to come back tonight just to see you and talk to you. Girl, he’s so into you, and it’s fucking awesome. Go talk to him!’
I was too terrified. I said no and avoided eye contact for the rest of the night.
I had put my hand up to come in on the weekend to help construct and paint sets, and I was working away with a couple of other guys from the crew and B walked past the studio and saw me through the glass and came and said hi. It was one of the most uncomfortable conversations I’d had. I’d never had a boyfriend, let alone kissed anybody, hell, I hadn’t even come out to people – well, except for a couple of my closest friends in the show.
A couple of days later I found myself back at his place after rehearsals making out on his couch. Not long after that I regularly found myself sneaking out of his place in the middle of the night, cycling home through the thick fog, and sneaking into my house.
This went on for a couple of months. Nobody knew. It was such a big secret. I was constantly lying to mum about staying over at friends places during the week – she didn’t know who they were or have their numbers, so I know she couldn’t check up on me and call them. But I was more terrified of either
a) being caught sneaking in;
b) being confronted about it;
c) being ‘outed’ and / or
d) all the above
However, it got to a point where he was starting to pressure me into actually having sex with him. Just the thought of it terrified me. I knew it was going to hurt, and I’d heard so many horror stories about it – things like tearing and bleeding and incredible pain, and I’m thinking ahhh, no. There will be none of that.
Then it headed south, really quickly. I got too freaked out and just stopped replying to his messages. I stopped visiting him. He started calling and texting me all day long wanting to know what I was doing and when I’d be coming over again. He’d then start waiting for me after rehearsals… at that point I started getting lifts home with friends, just so I wouldn’t have to see him.
He then started following me. Waiting for me outside the library when I was there studying before dance class around the corner and then rehearsals straight afterwards.
Then one particular day he followed me home. And despite trying to keep a distance from him, it didn’t stop him from shouting out to me. Finally, I’d had enough and snapped.
I did a complete 180 and stormed up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and told him to leave me the fuck alone or I’d put him on the ground in a mound of pain. I told him I couldn’t see him anymore and that he was being too intense and obsessive and his stalker behaviour was the icing on the cake and I couldn’t handle that.
He, in turn had a big emotional outburst right there on the footpath.
Sorry B, I’m done.
He told me he loved me. I told him I didn’t want to see him again and that he needed to stop contacting me.
I walked off, locked myself in my room and bawled my eyes out. What the hell was going on… did I just go through my first break-up?? I was an emotional wreck and worst of all, I had absolutely nobody that I could talk to about it.
it was horrible.