am an alcoholic.
I have said that at so many meetings, I have lost count. My life has not been pretty. Some people say you are born an alcoholic, some say you let yourself become an alcoholic due to traumatic events. I am the latter. I have Jim Jordan to thank for the traumatic event. It has taken me many years to come to grips with what happened to me, and seeing him all over the news has reawakened the nightmare I went thru when he raped me at Ohio State.
Yes, Jim Jordan raped me, in the same showers Strauss raped hundreds of other boys. It has taken me three days to get this far writing this down. I keep finding other things to do. It’s called avoidance according to my shrink. She actually pushed me to write this biography in order to help me heal. I also want to thank Marc, who I met in AA. Why God works in mysterious ways, I don’t know. Why God let Marc get raped by Jim Jordan, I don’t know. All I know is I would be dead if it wasn’t for Marc.
I grew up in a rural, but middle-class city in Ohio. It felt like we were caught up between being to old for Mayberry, but not old enough for “modern” technology. Internet was still dial-up modem, I think three people in town even had a computer. Getting a college application meant visiting the guidance counselor and requesting an application thru the mail. Filling it out with a pen was as much a challenge as getting accepted. And I did get accepted, well wait-listed at first, but if enough other applicants dropped out, I’m in.
August 24th, 1990 was the greatest day in my life. I got in! I cannot, even now, forget how I felt that day, nor how I felt that night with my girlfriend. I was still a virgin, she was not. We were both 18, but I was very awkward around women, at least when I was alone with just one. Strong church influence and watchful parents didn’t help either. I grew up with a healthy dose of guilt. I never thought about being gay. The church said that was a sin so any unclean thoughts were just the devil tempting me.
Fast forward to Sept 19th, another greatest day in my life, my first day of class. I am in college, a full-time college student studying law at an agricultural school. The past few weeks were heaven and hell. So much to do, paperwork, packing, breaking up with my girlfriend after a couple more tries at sex, moving out, moving in, registration, book store, roommates, campus rules, do’s and dont’s.
In class we study groups we joke about whether there is more bullshit in our law books than all the animals on campus combined, excluding all the professors of course. We had a special scale for the professors. The future is open, bright, and the possibilities endless. And miracle of all, I am passing all my classes with a B average. I had a lot of time to study as I could not find a girlfriend. It’s not that I’m bad looking, or overweight, just awkward and there was a strange lack-of-interest.
I also learned what a sock means on a door handle. Oops…
Sports are very big at OSU. Every day it seemed like there is some event somewhere. If they weren't poisonous they would serve Buckeyes for breakfast, second breakfast, lunch and dinner. Football rules, but that year we were just OK. I got to watch the Ohio State Marching Band spell out Ohio at a football game, live, something I had only seen on TV so many times with my family at home. We held up signs at the games, in hope of getting on TV, but none of my friends or family ever saw me. Basketball took us to the play-offs, and as usual wrestling was big under Coach Strauss and Jim Jordan.
I loved to run, especially cross-country. I had lettered in High School, but I was nowhere near good enough to make the team, let alone get a scholarship. The campus had some great running paths as well as the track. Running around the OSU stadium is both exhilarating and intimidating. Pictures of past stars are everywhere, trophy cages seemed to match the number of cows. Trophies outnumber students. You were in awe of the coaches.
To say my roommate was active with women was an understatement. He was very good looking, athletic, and his family had money. We got along well, and, after the first mistake, we set up a schedule of sorts. Friday nights were his, and Saturday nights were mine. Well mostly. Sometimes. I didn’t have a girlfriend so. It was still great. There was always the library, and locker rooms and showers were available anytime in the facilities after a run so I was fine.
Springtime in Ohio is beautiful, my favorite time of the year. I love it when the snow has melted off of the streets and sidewalks, but there is still snow in the yards. Icicles are dripping in the noon day sun. It feels great to get back out running in the woods and hills. I had been in class for a few weeks and had figured out which classes needed full attendance and which were just book recitals. I still had a B average, but no girlfriend.
Monday, 16 April 2019. The weather was absolutely beautiful. Almost 60 degrees with a beautiful half moon visible at 9 PM. A perfect night for a run. I ran about 3 miles, and then headed to the showers. The place was empty, and since my roommate was home, I started taking care of myself. The best we had back then was magazines and our imagination. And I got caught by Coach Jordan.
What occurred after that I will not ever detail other than to say I was no longer a virgin. Coach Jordan knew his wrestling moves. I don’t remember what time I got back to the dorm, but it was still dark. I showered again, and went to bed. I could not sleep and so I showered again. I must have repeated this twenty times. I finally slept, but the shock of what I went thru, and the shame was unbearable. I grabbed a bottle of whiskey my room mate had and took a couple of chugs. I slept until evening.
I ordered pizza, and then bought a couple of six packs. When they were gone, I bought a cheep bottle of rum and a non-brand cola. And some limes. I was almost back home when I remembered the limes. I had to go back. For the next few days I became obsessed with small things, cleaning the room, my car, laundry, everything seemed to be so dirty. I showered often. And drank. And drank.
By the end of the semester I was put on academic probation, and after the term was over, I dropped out. I moved back home for a while, but my anger and shame and drinking made sure that was short- lived. I decided it was time to move south, go to Florida where it was sunny and warm and I could forget about what happened to me. I got me a bus ticket and off I went.
The next twenty years is a blur. Dead end telemarketing jobs selling everything and anything. We always had the latest and greatest. And as long as I kept up my sales quota, no one cared if my water smelled a little funny. I quit running and my weight went up. Sex was off the table, and that was fine with me.
Between my upbringing and my rape I wanted nothing to do with men, and the women that tried to pick me up soon learned it was no use. I blamed the long term drinking and an old war wound. Instead of pounding the table as I railed against the injustice done to my client, I pounded down beer and whiskey, and whatever else they had. Every night was a guilty verdict because it was my fault.
Jan 2, 2010. I hit what they call rock-bottom. My third DUI. I finally got sent to rehab and mandatory AA. Showing up at the trial a little drunk didn’t help much. I spent the night in jail, while I sobered up. I was given a choice, 30 days in jail or rehab. After 6 agonizing weeks drying out, including four days of alcohol withdrawal, I feel like a new man. That is where I met Marc, the man who saved my life.
I will let Marc tell his story. www.jimjordanrapedme.org