Hello there, bloggity blog. Been a while!

I haven’t been writing as much lately in general. The reason being my day job - I work very hard at a locally and independently-owned gaming store, pleased as punch to ring up other nerds for things I love. Magic cards, video games, board games, and the like.

I started the job around July of 2013. Within my first few weeks of moving to LA, I did a cursory Google search of independent game stores in my area. I walked in, noticed a “NOW HIRING” sign, and figured it was worth a shot. Surely, working for a non-chain store would be better than a big chain retailer, right?

But let’s go back a bit first.

—

Several years ago, I drew this comic and posted it to this here Tumblr page, where it quickly racked up something over 4,000 notes and got reblogged by Neil Gaiman and other people: http://thingofthings.tumblr.com/post/23970133350/my-comic-about-rape-jokes





It was both refreshing and also more than a little bit terrifying to open myself up publicly about, uh, being raped.

When I was 19, I was horribly misled, manipulated, and mentally and sexually abused - for months - by a man I considered a friend. Not just any friend; my *closest* friend. A man who was charming, thoughtful, funny, smart, soulful. A man who had lived a rough and tumble life, fraught with danger and fear, and managed to strengthen himself to be self-reliant, kind, and compassionate.

It was all a lie.

The realization that all this pain and fear I was feeling was because someone else did this to me on purpose was immensely terrifying. At the hospital, where I wound up after a botched suicide attempt, I coldly explained what happened and what this man did to me.

I saw the tears well up in her eyes. It hit me like a bolt of lightning. No one is supposed to do this. What this man has done is unforgivable.

The man, of course, used his immense well of charm and intelligence to rally his friends to his cause. I was just a jilted, jealous loser; my cries of pain and anguish were the petulant whines of a crappy friend The Man had to cut ties with. Criminal cases were discussed and then quickly dropped. Too much time has passed, too little evidence to support my claim.

In short, he got away with it. The son of a bitch got away with it. The Man walks free despite his crime. Meanwhile, I’m the one searching and screaming for answers and justice in a world that seems to care for neither.

The following decade was a long slog of fear and rehabilitation. Compounded by depression and anger, I approached everyone and everything as a liability.

In time, I found new hobbies, made new friends, and found employment. I found a lovely girlfriend and we moved in together. I moved to Los Angeles, trying to keep myself focused on the future.

More than anything else, I vowed: I wouldn’t let anyone get away with manipulating me again.

—





Soon after landing the job at the game store, I became fast friends with one of my co-workers. A statuesque, brusque, and incredibly intelligent man with a fascinating mind and a dynamite sense of humor. Coming to work was a joy, simply to be around This Man. This Man clearly had his issues he was working with, judging from some of his poor decisions and often abrasive behavior, but I figured - why pry? I will trust This Man and his privacy, as is his right.

Late last year, This Man left the game store to manage another, separate store, one unaffiliated with us that was in something of a financial crisis. If anyone could turn a failing business around, it was This Man, I thought. I wished him the best. It sucked that I would no longer be working with a really great friend, but hey, we all gotta move on sometime.

Several months later, This Man seemingly disappeared without a trace. Attempts made to contact him were made in vain. One day bled into an entire weekend without so much as a peep in regards to his whereabouts, which, for a friend, is a troubling sign.

After the weekend, one of This Man’s friends had confided that he was, for the time being, safe, but, again out of respect for This Man’s privacy, details were scarce.

Some weeks later, This Man messaged me to let me know he was offering me a job. I was flattered, but uninterested; I trusted This Man’s initiative and vision, but my current job already had all of his initiative and vision in full display. He had set the place up to thrive; selfishly, I declined his offer.

Looking back, that was one of the best decisions I’ve made.

“I’m leaving,” This Man said. “That’s why I want you on board here.”



I asked where he was leaving. This Man didn’t reply. Once again, I respected his privacy. We shook hands and left.





The potential whereabouts for This Man was the topic of several rumors and speculation among our usual friends and confidants. The story became so warped and insane to the point where the most logical explanation was that This Man was leaving the country, managing another struggling business owned by his extended family, going away for several years in the process.

It made sense, and it fit into the narrative of This Man. This strange, lovable, unpredictable Man.

A week and a half ago, I discovered that This Man was in jail.

Not overseas. Not hiding out in some sort of Scientology-esque cult. Straight-up, This Man was in jail.

Not only that, this was his SECOND TIME in jail. Another friend of This Man, having some conflicting feelings, decided it would be good for me to know the truth.

The Truth. It didn’t make sense. How could This sweet-natured, gentle Man be a criminal? What circumstances led to this? And more importantly, why did This Man not trust me with the truth?

I spent the following week and a half scrambling for information, attempting to piece together this puzzle.

I found nothing. Nothing except a tanglewire of deception, manipulation, and lies.

This Man thought he was smarter than all of us. This Man lured us in with his charming demeanor and intelligence, and made calculated decisions based upon the secrets he captured from all of us. And then proceeded to use them all against us.

He was thrilled with the story about fleeing the country to manage a family business. He ran with it to the bank. In the meanwhile, he surrounded himself with people he knew had no reason to distrust him, while testing the patience and willpower of those who he considered his closest friends. His prison sentence was their fault, and he made sure to threaten them at every opportunity. Their jobs would be at risk, he strongly hinted, if they ever talked.

Well, I’m talking. I’m not afraid.

—





I refuse to live in someone else’s manipulative, horrendous lies. I refuse to keep his secrets and live in his world of fear.

I should mention, by the way, that these aren’t just any criminal charges. We’re talking possession and distribution of child pornography. This Man is a registered sex offender; Googling This Man’s name brings up that information on the very first page.

I once lived through a horrid ordeal that someone got away with. I’m not going to do it again.





Thank you for reading.

–brian