Bathhouse Bobby

In a jacuzzi at a bathhouse on a Friday night in Cape Town, during the winter of 2001 is probably where you'd have found me.

The venue's website has pictures of the facility during the glorious summer at the end of the year.

Now, imagine the scene on a cold winter's evening. Rain beating down on the windows and washing out the city lights visible through the sliding doors.

It was definitely a Friday night because in those days all my Fridays would be the exactly the same.

I'd finish work at around 5pm, make my way to our regular bar to meet friends, sink far too many Martinis then stuff my way through dinner finally ending up in the bathhouse nearby.

I'd walk around a bit in my towel, cruise a bit, realise that I wasn't going to find anything so I'd go and lie down in one of the cabins.

Usually at around 4am I'd wake up, cold, still wet and a bit drunk. Thankfully every time the door was still locked.

In the background I'd hear other cabin doors closing and on busy Friday nights, the sound of anonymous thighs slapping against other anonymous thighs.

On the scale of the depressing times in my life - those moments of coming to while lying on a plastic mattress in a place that stank of poppers and sweat must rate at the bottom. Or close to it.

So there I was sat on this typical Friday night, in the jacuzzi (because at the time I weighed 242lbs / 110 kgs and the water could hide the size of your stomach - that's why you never see fit guys in a jacuzzi at saunas) watching the rain beat against the glass.

In the foam with me was an even larger middle-aged man with steamed-up glasses and hairy shoulders.

A few minutes later we were joined by a third guy - as the following tune came on...



In my opinion, not only was the boy very obviously under 18 but he was almost probably rent too because a very stilted conversation ensued. This had definitely been set up.

The man complimented the young lad - who must have been about 17 or 18 - as only leering old men do and the boy smiled back.

Then the man moved along to the boy and they started kissing. The boy didn't close his eyes or touch the man back.

The man kissed the boy all over and soon, under the water, his hand moved onto my leg. And then it moved to my crotch.

For I while I just sat motionless while the man jerked me off as the rest of him attended to the boy. I was drunk so I just sat still.

Had I an ounce of self-esteem I'd have moved his hand or at best got out. I had none so I didn't.

The lad then pulled himself out of the water to sit on the edge, while the man's mouth remain clamped between his legs.

The old guy having to move, pulled his hand away from me.

So there I sat, sweating, drunk and disgusted at myself, in a jacuzzi staring out of a window with rain on the one side and condensation on the other as this old man set about degrading this young boy.

I could see the city lights and imagined my friends having dinner without me, after I'd made some pathetic excuse to leave because I couldn't help my behaviour.

I saw my parents sitting at home - they had loved and cared me for me - and here I was, sat in a cesspool with some lecherous old man who was having his way with a boy who was clearly as unhappy as I was.

In that moment it felt like my soul had left my body. I felt cheap, ugly, fat and worthless.

I decided to get out but my towel had fallen onto the floor and was wet. I stumbled to the shower, back to the lockeroom and put my clothes on wet, then to the car.

My memories are still so vivid because I so upset that I can recall it as if it was yesterday.

I haven't been back in that jacuzzi since that horrible night. I felt degenerate and worthless in those days. I would look into the mirror and loathe what I saw.

Nowadays though, when I look into the mirror I'm okay with what I see. I took this in the gym this morning.

I don't go to saunas anymore. All I'd see is a crowd of people who're as empty as I felt.

At least now if I did decide to go to a sauna, at least I know that I wouldn't have to hide my stomach under the water.

I'm okay now, thank God.

Edit
On Friday, March 7 2008 I was back in Cape Town and returned to the Hot House. You can read about it here if you like.