Pretend It's Not Me Page 2

Lakeshore almost broke me.

I know it's been over 30 years, but the pain cut so deep, the rejection and the betrayal were so brutal I was left wondering who I was, if I had any worth as a human being.

As a patient nothing much was expected of me.

I was on the child and adolescent ward. There were about 10 of us there and if you were to meet any of us outside of the hospital setting you'd realize we were all perfectly normal adolescents. I think Lakeshore was more of a dumping ground than anything else. Families who, for whatever reason, couldn't deal with a family member could dump them at Lakeshore.

The hospital was in the suburbs, miles from downtown, so most of the inmates came from families that were well off or at least lived quiet suburban lives.

I was so alone. I knew I didn't belong there. I knew it.

Had the other patients been living with serious psychological problems I'm not sure I could have dealt with that. As it was they were fun and silly and there was a lot of laughter.

After all we were members of the same tribe.

It didn't take me long to figure out the lay of the land. Once that was done I could manipulate the situation in a way that made things a little easier.

For instance, I was a minor. I knew the hospital was legally responsible for me, I could run away and show up the next day and they'd have to take me in.

And that's exactly what I started doing.

I was 14 when I discovered Toronto's gay scene, in particular the men and the drugs.

I started going downtown where all the clubs and bars were. When the party was over for the night I'd hop on the streetcar and make my way back to the hospital.

A routine began to establish itself.

I'd roll in anytime of the day or night and ring the bell. Whoever answered it got the same line.

"I'm tired and hungry so get outta my way".

I'd have something to eat before retreating to my room where I'd sleep for the rest of the day.

I'd be up in the late afternoon, grab something to eat, then shower and dress before heading back downtown where the routine would repeat itself all over again.

Early one morning I was on the subway headed back to the hospital when I met this guy. He started telling me I could make a lot of money turning tricks. All I had to do was choose a good hotel, walk in like I owned it and sit down in the lobby. Before long a man would sit down beside me and drop his key on the floor so I could see what his room number was.

He'd pick up his key and start walking away. I'd wait for a few minutes before finding my way to his room where he was waiting.

Wouldn't you know that's exactly what happened. I couldn't believe it.

I chose The Royal York, one of the nicest hotel's in the city. I walked in and sat down in the lobby. Before long a man sat down beside me and dropped his key on the floor.

In the years to come I would meet my share of toads but this man was good looking. He was about 50, had salt and pepper hair and a mustache. He was clean, he smelled nice and had a dignified manner, all of which were appealing to me.

I followed him up to his room. I wasn't in there for more than 15 minutes when he handed me a 50 dollar bill and showed me the door.

I was so blown away by how easy it was. 50 dollars was a lot of money in 1977 and I wanted more.

I went right back down to the lobby and in a matter of minutes made eye contact with another possible john.

He wouldn't sit down, instead he started winking at me as he walked towards the men's room. I followed him in and we agreed to meet in the elevator to talk business.

There was no one else on the elevator but the two of us. When the doors closed he asked me how much and when I told him 50 bucks he said "that's nice, your under arrest for soliciting". I had no way out, I was trapped!

He lead me to the security office where I was seated across from the head of security. As he began to talk I realized he was referring to me as "son". It was a term of endearment and I knew exactly what to do with it.

I was almost in tears and using the most innocent tone I possibly could said the following..

"I saw it on Police Story sir and I thought he was just taking me for a drink"

That did it. The hospital was called and they came to pick me up and take me back to the nuthouse.

It had been a close call but I wasn't charged.

This little episode did absolutely nothing to interrupt my daily routine. I didn't stop working but instead of The Royal York I simply chose a different hotel.

I was learning.