Bobbie did kiss me, though, and it felt rather pleasant, not threatening or aggressive, as it often did with guys. So that was my exposure to the homosexual lifestyle as I prepared to leave my teenage years behind. I don't regret that night, although I felt terribly guilty and ashamed for years afterward.

Ironically, rumours began to circulate at Founders that Courtney and I were involved romantically. This was based on the fact that we were seen together a lot, and because neither of us had boyfriends.

The rumours intensified after Wanda and Courtney traded rooms, leaving Wanda in a single and Courtney paired with me. Both of us pretended that the tongue-wagging didn't bother us, but, in reality, it upset our peace of mind greatly.

Shortly after my night at the gay bar, Simon began to come on to me with single-minded intensity, but I rebuffed his advances. His childishness and drinking turned me off, and besides, I wasn't even remotely interested in him romantically. He was the butt of most of the residence jokes and was laughed at behind his back for his clothes, haircut and crude humour. I was thoroughly embarrassed to be seen with him.

One night, I'd had too much to drink and didn't walk away when Simon planted an energetic, wet kiss on my unsuspecting lips. He was delighted and murmured, "Where have you been all this time?"

After that, I spent a great deal of time talking with him, somewhat relieved to be semi-involved in a straight relationship. Nothing sexual happened during this period of time; not that he didn't desire it, but I was insistent that we remain celibate. Sex just didn't appeal to me at all and I wasn't particularly attracted to Simon physically, even though he was quite good- looking in a cherubic, "Peck's-bad-boy-touched-with-sweetness" kind of way; sort of a Pre-Raphaelite innocence brushed with a stroke of decadence.

I told Simon all about my past, emphasizing the fact that I'd had a difficult life and had "really suffered". He was very empathetic and hugged me close to him, assuring me that he understood why I sometimes lashed out at people and denounced the unfortunate events that had robbed me of a happy and carefree childhood.

I played on Simon's sincere desire to be an amateur psychotherapist, revelling in the attention he paid to my angst, and wallowing in self-pity in an effort to gain his sympathy. It worked, and before long he devoted all of his spare time and energy trying to "fix me" and counselled me for hours at a time. He urged me to talk about things that were bothering me and offering broad shoulders to sob on. This probably would have continued indefinitely, except for the terrible night that changed both of us forever and tore our relationship to pieces.

When I arrived at Simon's room in F House, my instinct was to leave right away, as it was obvious that he was quite intoxicated. He'd drunk one half of a bottle of Vodka and was acting extremely childish and undesirable. I was wearing a short, pale blue mini-dress and he commented upon how sexy I looked. "Simon, you shouldn't drink so much," I said disapprovingly, sitting down beside him on the bed. That was a fatal mistake.

What happened next was that this normally kind, considerate and decent boy tried to force himself on me, his inhibitions loosened by the alcohol. As he leapt on top of me and started to pull my dress off, my memory flashed back suddenly to a year before when Wayne had done the same thing.

"God, what am I going to do?" I despaired, panic welling up in my throat. I had a brilliant idea, or so I thought. I'd pretend to go into a frozen trance, and then Simon would stop.

It was actually a very mean thing to do, for when I stiffened my body and stared straight ahead, motionless in my pretend freak-out, poor Simon was overcome with remorse, fear and regret.

He quickly got off me and sat at his desk, and I can only imagine what desolate thoughts consumed him for the next five minutes while I continued to lie there like a dazed zombie. It was the bitter and melodramatic end of our union, for after that, Simon grew to despise me. He was grimly reminded of his shameful behaviour everytime he looked at me and remembered how he'd caused me to react in such a frightening way.

He took refuge in the arms of another girl, Amanda, who lived off-campus Richmond Hill and could not even bear to meet my gaze. I wanted him back so badly, with a ferocity that knew no bounds of reason.

One night, our residence held one of its infamous "Purple Jesus" parties. It was named for an extremely potent alcoholic concoction that consisted of ninety proof alcohol and grape Kool- Aid.

Simon was the bartender, and stood behind a row of wooden tables upon which were placed bottles of beer and wine for those who couldn't stomach the Purple Jesus. Courtney and I attended, against my better judgement.

Sylvia, Sidney and Rhoda weren't going to be there and I had no other friends left at Founders. Everyone had heard about my hellish night with Simon, and dismissed me as a total flake with no redeeming qualities or graces. Wanda and Darlene still hated me, and even Adam thought it best not to pursue me arduously anymore.

I set out that night to get as plastered as I possibly could and pretty much succeeded before too long. One did not have to drink too many paper cups of that colourful substance to become intoxicated to the point of being rendered comatose, so by ten o'clock I was staggering all over the room.

I couldn't take my eyes off Simon as he poured drinks and chatted amicably with the other kids. I had become obsessed with winning back his love and affection and had even resorted at times to pleading with him to take me back. It was obvious that Cal wanted nothing more to do with me. I was crushed, my spirit pounded into the rock-hard ground of defeat.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I stumbled over to the bar and stood facing Simon, weaving back and forth in a drunken stupor and feeling very dizzy. I opened my mouth and shouted in a slurred voice, without really thinking, "So tell me, Simon, why the hell did you ever go out with me in the first place?"

It was a line right out of a tacky B-movie, not any words rooted in real conversation. He looked steadily and grimly into my bloodshot eyes and replied, "Because you've got a great body."

I exploded into rage at this ludicrous, sexist statement. Without hesitating, I picked up a magnum of white wine from the table and poured it over Simon's head, leering and snickering as I did so.

I emptied the entire bottle, then stood and waited for his reaction. There wasn't one. Simon remained motionless and said nothing, which infuriated me all the more. Bursting into tears, I shouted, "You fucking bastard!" and went running out of the suddenly quiet lounge, heading unsteadily for my room. It seemed as though my world was collapsing all around my ears.

I got safely inside my sanctuary and fell on the bed, sobs racking my body. This was a new level of misery and self-hatred, and I felt an overwhelming desire to rip up my arms with a razor blade.

Jumping off the bed, I fumbled around the darkened room, looking for something sharp. Suddenly, I heard a soft rapping, and turned to see a young man standing in the doorway.

I recognized him as eighteen-year-old Jeff, a blond, blue- eyed F House resident who usually kept to himself and was painfully shy. He sat down with me on the floor and tried to comfort me, saying that Simon wasn't worth all my grief and that he certainly didn't deserve anyone like me.

I told him that he was full of it, but secretly it felt reassuring to hear such kind words from a relative stranger. Jeff and I became fast friends. Although he was really attracted to me, I felt nothing even remotely romantic as far as he was concerned. He was to become very discouraged and despondent over my lack of enthusiasm, but pursued me for the next year or so.

Things continued to disintegrate after the fateful Purple Jesus party. Courtney told me repeatedly that I shouldn't keep going after Simon and pleading for him to take me back. She said it would only cause the chasm between us to widen even more, but I refused to take her advice and kept up the shameful behaviour. I continued to abuse Ritalin, going for several days at a time without sleeping and becoming more and more erratic. My drinking increased even more and I went for long periods without eating. I began to lose weight and my skin took on an unhealthy, sallow appearance. My friends were very concerned. Finally Sidney suggested that I move in with him for a week or so to escape the miserable atmosphere at Founders.

He had gotten an apartment several months before and loved the solitude and peace of mind that it brought him. I took him up on his offer, and gratefully abandoned A House for seven days of lengthy, soul-searching talks. We eased each other through the pains of being out-of-step misfits in a decidedly close-minded and exceedingly judgmental society.

It was during this period that I grudgingly accepted that I was "different", after fighting the urge to cover myself in symbolic ashes and sackcloth for many years. I did not really want to become absorbed and assimilated into a world which spat out everything and everyone with which or with whom it did not comprehend or identify. Those were the things that our generation accused our parents of doing, after all. I wanted to believe that I was far more idealistic and progressive than that.

I continued attending my classes from Sidney's and made a concerted effort to study diligently. Final exams were less than six weeks away and I wanted to maintain my A average. Scholastic achievement was very important to me then. Dad was uncharacteristically proud of me for an essay I'd written for Humanities and this meant more to me than he would ever know. I was determined to show him that I wasn't stuck in that confused, emotionally distraught phase forever.

I discovered that Courtney had achieved a substantial amount of respect from the other residents at Founders. Upon returning, I talked with the brash and egomanical Adam, who paused long enough in his persistent flirting to say that I didn't have to worry anymore about everyone thinking that Courtney and I were lovers.

"They wondered at first, when you two moved in together and all, but then realized that wasn't the case, since Courtney is highly regarded around here. They still think you're pretty weird, but everyone likes her. Thought you might want to know that."

"Uh, thanks,Adam", I responded flatly, that creeping sense of inferiority assailing my nervous system again, "but if you think you're going to worm your way into my pants with that kind of talk, you can just forget it." I left him standing in his undershirt and track pants, with his mouth agape in an expression of annoyance.

It was difficult having a friend like Courtney, who was held in so much higher esteem than myself and I began to suffer even more intense bouts of depression. They left me emotionally and physically drained, and, of course, popping Ritalin constantly only aggravated my negative moods.

That crazy doctor of Amber's would write me prescriptions whenever I wanted, for over two hundred pills at a time and never questioned my vast consumption of them. He was obviously one of those notorious "Dr. Feelgoods" who make their fortunes by creating as many druggies as they can.

The drug robbed me of my appetite as well and I feared becoming anorexic again. My parents were embroiled in their own problems, so I don't think that they noticed how much I was declining during that period. I didn't go home often and talked little of my life at York. How could I let them know that I felt as though I was being sucked under a giant wave of water and was absolutely powerless to stop myself from drowning?

I followed Simon around like a little lost puppy, taking extreme delight when he stopped to talk to me or toss a bone of attention in my direction. Most of the time, however, he glowered darkly at me and snapped, "Go away, Jane. I don't want to have anything to do with you. Just leave me alone. God, I am trying to get something going with Lorna and it's so damned hard when you're on my ass constantly."

If I had any vestiges of self-esteem left at all, they quickly vanished after those bone-chilling statements from the man I loved so desperately. He became the focal point of all my waking thoughts, and I ruminated obsessively about the manner in which he had cruelly deserted me.

I should have hated what he had done, forcing himself upon me while in an alcoholic haze, but instead I blamed myself for wearing such a provocative dress that evening. I had obviously asked for it.

Jeff grew weary of my all-consuming passion for Simon, and ultimately cooled off his advances considerably. "I can't compete with a god", he told me sadly one night and walked out the door. We still remained good friends, but he must have realized that he was out of the running as far as being my boyfriend was concerned.

As for Ben, who thought the sun rose and set upon me for some unexplained reason, well, he got unceremoniously ousted from my life after wanting to spend the night. He felt that our relationship, if there indeed was one, needed to progress beyond the hand-holding stage. I wasn't sexually attracted to him and told him that I was not about to engage in sex just to please him. "I did that the first time, over a year ago and lived to regret it. I won't repeat the mistake."

Poor Ben couldn't understand why I dangled him idly on a chain and refused to commit either physically or emotionally. He figured he had always tried so hard to be the Perfect Gentleman and give me anything I wanted. I felt very sad about this entire situation and tearfully waved him farewell. It was difficult being so driven toward the wrong man while the right one stood right under my nose.

I wanted to tell him that there was no challenge with our relationship, that everything fell into place far too smoothly and that I was bored and fidgety. But I realized that my thinking was not only rather warped, but exceedingly immature, so I simply refused to see him again.

Ben would have made an excellent husband, for he was hard- working, conscientious, very kind, considerate and generous. However there seemed to be a big part of me that needed to be treated as poorly and unfairly as I treated myself and that I simply craved a man who would abuse the hell out of me. I didn't recognize any of this at the time and wouldn't piece this disquieting picture together for another eighteen years or so.

As the school year began to wind down, relationships and personal dynamics in Founders residence solidified and gelled. Matthew became a parody of himself, a dirty old man in training, who produced guffaws and snickers from all the girls he tried frantically to make his conquests. Poor innocent Patrick was totally distraught at having such a rude and promiscuous roommate that he began to suffer emotionally.

He hid from the world most of the time, terrified of interpersonal contact and isolated himself. I felt sorry for him and spent time with the poor kid in an attempt to make him feel more comfortable around girls. He continued to quake in his brown Oxfords and refused to meet my gaze most of the time.

Sylvia and Sidney grew very close and I twinged with jealousy. She had recently put herself on a strict diet to lose twenty pounds, little knowing that it would lead her into extremely treacherous waters.

Sidney, deeply respected her sense of haute couture, her cultural background, superior intellect and open frankness and I wondered if he possessed any romantic feelings for her. They just connected so well, and it wasn't unheard of for gay people to be attracted to the opposite sex.

Mark and Reva's attempts at a reconciliation failed miserably and they separated for good. Mark and I remained close, but I discouraged any kind of relationship with him, realizing he was on the rebound.

Wanda and Brad's relationship intensified tremendously, as she abandoned poor Ike up at Lakehead University and pulled out all the emotional stops with this quiet, unassuming English major who had so effectively put me in my place a couple of months before.

He later apologized profusely, stammering that he had been unnecessarily nasty and unfair. I had simply smiled and replied, "No, Brad, I had it coming. I screwed up with Wanda and Darlene, and they'll hate me forever. Don't feel bad."

Devon and Kenny became good buddies, Kenny playing straight man to Devon's inane antics. I still found Devon hard to take, but his sidekick was admirable for his sincerity and humility.

Rhoda, dreamy-eyed, wistful, idealistic and with an artistic heart of pure gold dust, gravitated toward a young seventeen- year-old student, Billy, and grew resentful as Sidney showed a definite interest in him. Rhoda was unhappy that Sidney was trying to foist his lifestyle on an inexperienced boy, and this would cause a rift between the two of them which would continue into the next year.

Courtney studied hard and seemed to be experiencing some difficulties of her own in dealing with her past. She became involved with the Cock and Bull's manager, Roland, toward the end of March, and this would become somewhat sordid over the summer.

He was kind of a rough-hewn playboy type, roguishly handsome and with a trademark leer. I never liked him very much. He thought of me as a hopelessly mixed-up kid and dismissed me as too much trouble and thus I was safe from any of his advances. Courtney was vulnerable to this kind of young man and fell helplessly into his clutches. I thought it best not to interfere, though, as Courtney would undoubtedly resent me for it. She was obviously crazy about him.

There were other students at Founders whom I knew casually. One of these was Beth, a pretty, somewhat shy girl who referred to herself as a "classic Jewish Princess" because she wanted guys to treat her like someone special. I told her that all women want that, and that it certainly wasn't anything to get down on herself for.

Thelma was a rather irksome young woman with a goofy, early- Lucille Ball flamboyance, whose favourite song was "Philadelphia Freedom" by Elton John. She belted it out at every opportunity. Other than that, she was pleasant and friendly, but I didn't get very close to her.

I met Kelli late in the academic year and liked her immediately. We wouldn't become friends until September of 1975, but I admired her caustic wit, wary intelligence and carefree attitude about the world in general and residence in particular. "Ten years from now, this whole university trip will be a rapidly fading memory, so don't make such a big deal about everything." Well said, Kelli.

There were many others, all interesting in their own way, some dedicated to their school work, others enamoured with the social scene, but all individuals with definite ideas about and plans for the future. We were all thrown together in this comparatively small building for eight months out of the year, to achieve, learn and grow. We should have been making the most of our opportunities, but not many of us did.

Final exams were challenging, but upon completion, I knew that I had done extremely well, except for Natural Sciences. I didn't care for the course, and only scored a "B", but managed to hold onto an "A" average for my freshman year at York University.

So even though I was physically and emotionally wasted by the end of April 1975, I had accomplished what I had set out to do academically. Of course, the next two years were another story.