This is a true life story about sexual assault, which may include descriptions and words you find triggering.

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The author chose to remain anonymous.

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I remember carrying a heavy burden of shame. For months, I struggled with silence, secrecy, and self-judgment—sometimes even judgment from others—after experiencing a sexual assault. I didn’t report it at the time because I didn’t know how to, or if anyone would even take me seriously in a ‘sex on the premises’ venue.

I’m sharing this story now, in this public space, in the hope that it might encourage others to reflect on their own experiences or feel empowered to share their stories in a safe space, if, and when they are ready to do so. It’s not easy to revisit these memories, and I’ll admit that I’m afraid of being judged again. But if my story can help someone else feel less alone, it’s worth it.

Back then, I used to frequent a prominent ‘sex on the premises’ venue. It was one of the few places where I felt I could truly be myself, among my tribe of gay and bisexual men. I felt a sense of belonging and freedom to explore my desires and build social connections. It was a new and exciting venue in my city, and I always felt safe there, or so I thought.

I remember during a night out, I was drinking my usual alcoholic drink and as the evening progressed the bar got busier and the music got louder and quicker, and the stench of poppers was rife. The quick rush of 20 seconds where anything goes or could go seemed alluring, at the time.

I eventually, plucked up the courage to venture into the dark room area, which had cubicles and well as various open spaces where men could voyeur or take part in sex. All this was very exciting for me, and it was a very new venue in the city where I lived. Against my better judgment, as I was drunk more than usual and this made me more confident. I decide to pop into the dark room. If you don’t know, dark rooms are not pitch black, but it takes a few minutes to aclimatise to the darkness but eventually you can see better and navigate around.

As I was walking around, I decided to eventually smile at a man who I had fun with once before and he invited me into a cubicle with him and we started having fun. I didn’t realise at the time that the cubicle I was in also had a hole (a glory hole) and while I was in a full-on sexual encounter, someone on the other side was pulling down on my unzipped jeans from behind and decided to try to force themselves on to me.

Pulling up my jeans, shocked and pissed off, I stormed out of my cubicle and waited for the person (the perpetrator) to come out of their cubicle, so I could challenge them. My personal boundaries and space were broken. When I did challenge them verbally, they just smiled and giggled, and clearly there was a language barrier for us both. I tried my best to assert my point non-verbally, at which point I realised I was also raising my voice in a dark room where things are often silent and unsaid. From what I remember, as I was leaving, a bar staff briefly asked if I was okay, and I was unable to communicate as I needed to leave. I need some to get some fresh air and head home to my safe space.

Clearly this ruined my night, and I felt bad, even though I knew I did nothing wrong. I was on my own and felt isolated and unsafe emotionally. I just felt who was going to believe me, why did I not report this to the friendly bar staff and what should I do next. For weeks, my sexual wellbeing and esteem were affected, and it took me months before I went back to the venue, where once I felt safest but now anxious and on guard.

Since the assault and with the knowledge I have gained in sexual health and wellbeing since, by first volunteering and then working as a sexual health outreach wellbeing worker; my awareness around sexual abuse and consent helped me navigate a way forward. I eventually moved away from blaming myself as I knew I did nothing wrong as sexual consent was not given. I guess I am proud that many years later in the same bar I would go on to do sexual health outreach work as a job, offering sexual health testing and HIV testing and a listening ear to gay, bisexual, trans and queer men.

No matter how aware we all are of sexual assault and consent we can still be a victim of crime, but I am reassured, although this is a traumatic experience it is not my fault and there are people who will support you. I feel bar staff are certainly more aware than they were back in the day and people are talking about consent far more but not sure how under-reported incidences of non-sexual consent are reported or discussed. As for ‘dark rooms’ I feel more visible posters outside and potentially inside dark rooms, use of digital screens outside by the bar area may also help, as well as regularly training for bar staff.

Writing this story has stirred up other memories for me—times when my consent was violated, or when I was shamed for asserting my right to say no. Reflecting on those experiences, I realise how important it is to have open conversations in safe spaces. Unpacking shame, addressing guilt, and exploring healthy boundaries are vital steps toward healing and creating a culture of respect and understanding.

If you’re reading this and have had similar experiences, please know you’re not alone. You have done nothing wrong. You deserve to be heard, supported, and believed.

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Get help and support

Rape Crisis England & Wales has a 24/7 helpline. You can call the Rape and Sexual Abuse Support Line on 0808 500 2222. You can also chat to them online at 247sexualabusesupport.org.uk.

Galop, the LGBTQ+ anti-abuse charity has a helpline, email and web chat at www.galop.org.uk. Helpline: 0800 999 5428.

Find further help and support in our directory.