Need advice after a traumatic experience with an older man – closeted gay.
Hello everyone,
I’m a closeted gay man in my 20s, open with some friends, and based in Hong Kong. Coming from a conservative Asian background and still not out to my family, I’ve often felt out of place trying to fit into the community. The community presents complex constraints and nuances, which makes things hard. I also don’t have many gay friends, so I feel lonely. Occasionally, I do resort to going to the nightlife to potentially meet and mingle, have some short fun, and maybe try to find love (which is very naive).
Right now, I’m navigating trauma from a person I met on a night out. It’s been 8 months since the incident, but it still affects my mental health.
My experience
It happened last year, in mid-April, during a night out at one of the prominent gay nightlife scenes in Hong Kong. I was tipsy when I approached a man of Caucasian descent for a dance. We ended up making out, and afterwards we talked briefly.
He told me he worked in the education sector in a prominent role at an international school, and that he was in his late 30s. He’d moved to Hong Kong about a year earlier. At first, I assumed it was just a passing moment- after exchanging numbers, we’d probably drift apart.
But what followed was flirty messaging and casual meet-ups. He would text me on Friday or Saturday nights asking things like, “Are you out?” He consistently initiated contact, and at first I made excuses to avoid him. I questioned why I’d want to spend time with someone who felt different from the people I knew.
However, I was feeling starved for affection and somewhat lonely. I wasn’t dating anyone and I wasn’t using dating apps. I didn’t have any close gay friends. Looking back, I realize that was my biggest mistake.
The connection and the first signs
As we met more often (usually not too frequently, often in the club), a connection slowly formed. It started innocent- we bonded over music and shared vulnerabilities. I felt genuine emotional connection, but I rationalized that he likely wanted something physical too. When he suggested we take things slow and said he wanted to care for me and make me feel safe, it genuinely stirred up feelings from old trauma.
He also shared insecurities and spoke about wanting to be as confident as I seemed. I was younger than him and still figuring out my sexuality while not being openly out, so I felt flattered and sympathetic. I felt compelled to fill the loneliness I sensed in him, and that made me more attracted to him. He was quirky and had youthful energy, which put me at ease.
Red flags (in retrospect)
One of our early meet-ups happened at a casual restaurant. He kissed me on the lips in front of others. It made me feel embarrassed, especially because of the age gap. Instead of addressing it, I let it pass.
Later, he invited me to his studio apartment. The affection felt intense- bordering on love-bombing. He dominated the conversation and gave me very little space to speak. I wanted to believe he truly cared and that he wasn’t just seeing me as a one-night stand.
Over time, he started pressuring me to meet more often. His messages felt passive-aggressive- like, “If a guy approached me, my first choice isn’t here,” which made me feel manipulated into responding. He also often asked if I was alone before we agreed to meet.
At one point, while we were kissing in the club, a boy approached our table. He said he’d met my partner the previous night. I kept kissing him while the boy stood there and was interrupted again. The boy later mentioned he was 18, and the man dismissed him as “too young.” Based on their body language, I suspected there may have been prior advances between them, but I still ignored my instincts.
As his mood swings became more obvious- especially during a super typhoon, when he checked in on me and I noticed how easily my feelings reignited. He called me his “prince” and promised, “You will always be safe in my arms.”
The turning point
Eventually, I was invited to his apartment again. At first I felt safe, but later I noticed bumps on my skin, and I was diagnosed with a skin-related STD. The thought that he might have exposed me without disclosing it hit me hard. I also felt terrified because he was the only person I had been intimate with.
Even though we hadn’t engaged in penetrative intercourse, his actions still raised serious alarms. I learned that skin conditions in the genital area can spread through direct skin-to-skin contact. I became increasingly convinced he might have been infected.
I got scared and felt betrayed. I ignored his messages and deleted his contact. When he reached out asking, “Did I do anything you didn’t like?”, I was confused- torn between attachment and the reality of the situation. Eventually, our communication dwindled as I tried to move on.
But my skin condition worsened, which added to my distress. After two months of no contact, I searched for him online using keywords. I found limited information and discovered his real name and picture on a school website. That made my suspicions grow stronger. I had trusted him because of his professional standing. I also respected his privacy at first—he only shared a nickname, not his real name- but in hindsight, that was naive.
I eventually tracked down his real name and social media, but his accounts were sparse and mostly inactive. We communicated only through a WhatsApp number from his home country, and he used an alias.
Final encounter
After two months, he reached out again saying he felt attractive despite being rejected and that he missed me. I gave in to the idea of reconciling, even though my gut warned me.
When we met at the club again, he brought along another guy- a local in his mid-20s and kissed him in front of me. The younger guy seemed submissive to him. I felt humiliated while he acted nonchalant, like he was doing it on purpose.
When the guy went to the bathroom, my partner complimented me and said he didn’t want to “lead me on,” that we were on different paths in life. But he contradicted himself shortly after—he said he couldn’t hide his desire to reconnect with me and that he wanted me around because he “cares,” and that he was willing to “support” me.
When I tried to hold back my feelings for the right person, he made a yearning expression that made me feel twisted into saying I had feelings for him. He then told me he would renew for another three years to see how things would flow- uncertain about the future but acting like he had a plan for me.
Our conversation went in circles, and I couldn’t get him to talk openly about the STD issue.
At some point I felt used. My dignity started to collapse. While we were at the club, he approached random young men who seemed vulnerable, asked for their numbers, and kissed them. When I pulled him aside to discuss STD risk, he refused to engage. His response felt rehearsed and insincere.
Later, he tried to fix things. He claimed he would always be there, offered me a key to his new studio apartment, and encouraged me to visit anytime. He explained that he kissed random guys to feel attractive.
I felt overwhelmed with confusion and a deep sense of violation, so I left the club and went home in tears.
The next day he messaged again, trying to be affectionate. I confronted him about what happened the previous night, and he went quiet again.
I felt alone and distressed. I wanted to expose him, but I feared repercussions because of how manipulative he seemed. Also, I felt like it would not matter- he would lie or gaslight and get away with it.
Eventually, he messaged me one last time about a week after our silence. He sent sad, gloomy selfies and then a normal message like, “How are you?” I’d had enough. I sent him a long message asking him to leave me alone. After a period of silence, he stopped contacting me.
Even now, I still struggle sometimes- replaying everything in my head. I feel drained and ashamed about what I went through, especially because I had to hide it from my family and friends. That guilt affected my anxiety and my mental health.
Present
Fast forward to now: I’ve sought treatment from a dermatologist, and my brother and I had to spend a lot. He didn’t know (or didn’t disclose) that it was an STD, which made me feel even more guilty. Now I’m cured, but the damage still lingers.
It’s been 8 months since the incident. There are days when I feel progress, but I still have flashbacks and lingering feelings- especially when I’m at home or at work.
I’ve sought counseling from two services: one through a local community NGO, and one through an organization that caters to LGBTQIA+ individuals. It helped, but it felt temporary.
I also tried going back to a gay club to reconnect with someone, but I couldn’t stay. I got anxious and aggravated and left.
I felt so broken that I couldn’t express my sexuality without fear. He destroyed me emotionally and tore me apart.
After I tried to draft him a message, I accidentally pressed call and it ended quickly. About 30 minutes later he messaged me: “Hey baby, what’s wrong? Is it a butt dial?” I didn’t reply. Part of me wanted to respond with anger, so I ignored the message for three months.
When I tried getting more help, I also contacted a suicide and emotional hotline. I was referred to a government medical center that provides support for survivors of sexual violence, and then directed to another counseling service.
I keep telling myself to forgive him. I can’t fully, though, as I still carry that damage. It’s hard.
What advice do you have?