Ben | 30 | Manchester, England | Administrator & Writer
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August 11th 1999, Wednesday, midweek day, day of the big eclipse, day I went shopping, day I worked a shift at Clinton Cards, day I came... day I came... day I came... out!
Now this moment is meant to be monumental, you know, a big statement, releasing all those things that have been bubbling away inside you for years. That was how I dreamed it would be, when I wasn’t trying to convince myself I was in love with the brown haired girl from Steps that is. I mean some people have recollections of standing in front of the mirror, taking deep breaths, trying to pluck up the courage, trying to tell themselves. “I am... I am... I am ggg, I am ggggg, I am ... gay! But no, not me. I didn’t even get to say that. Let me set the scene. It’s about 20.15; myself and some friends had all agreed to meet at Trimdon Avenue shops. I mean Trimdon shops? Hardly the perfect choice for this momentous occasion. But let’s bypass that. Anyway we were in Spar buying a load of crap for a video night, when I noticed my best mate Emma acting all odd. So I drag her outside to find out the gossip. I always was the nosey one. Anyway she starts wittering on about how she’s told someone something and now she doesn’t know what to do. ‘What???’ I questioned, salivating at the mouth at this confession I was about to here, and then she just said it, there and then, without a hint of a warning – “I’m gay.” |
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Well that was it. You could have knocked me over with a feather. My legs turned to jelly, my head went all fuzzy and it was like I’d lost control of my body. Well I certainly lost control of my mouth. Because what I wanted to say was it’s okay, don’t worry, but something else came out instead. I DID! With two words... “Me too!” Just a simple, "Me too." I mean “Me too”? How pathetic? I didn’t even get to say the ‘g’ word. But the fact was, what had given my body the right to say it? I had no intention of saying it; it was the biggest surprise of my life for God’s sake, completely unexpected.
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"Like the time in Faliraki when I went
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I couldn’t take it back. There I was stood there, a bag of wine gums in one hand, outside Trimdon Avenue shops, on the day that everyone thought the world was going to end. Only mine was just beginning. Because a second later this feeling washed all over me. Like the feeling when you’re busting for the loo, I mean really bursting and you can’t hold it in any longer, and you make it to the toilet with seconds to spare, and the relief. Well that was the feeling; the biggest relief ever. For the first time in my life I had opened up to someone, shared everything about myself with someone and it felt overwhelming yet bloody brilliant. I was walking on air for days. But then came the dreaded telling everyone else. In the end it was like a well rehearsed speech. You start with an apology...
“I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner, I’m sure deep down you’ve probably
known all along, I really wanted to sit down and tell you personally, you know,
face to face, seeing as though we are best mates (a tad bit of brown nosing
always helped soften the blow). Well the thing is....”
Well you can guess the rest! There was a lot of hugging, and ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner’ and lots of reassuring nods and pats on the back and gallons of tea, as tea is a cure for all problems. And then there was the unexpected... “Well funnily enough, seeing as you’re being so honest, I’m actually a lesbian!” WHAT????? This was supposed to be my moment in the sun, my trauma, my drama. How very ‘Dawson’s Creek’ I thought my life was. But it was like dominoes, as if there was something in the water. Everywhere you looked people were falling out the closet left, right and centre.
I couldn’t believe it, all this time I’d envisaged sitting with the girls having intellectual debates about who we’d rather; Adam Rickett or Billy Kennedy from Neighbours. But here they were, popping off to Lesbie Land as if there was a two for the price of one offer on at Boots. Here we go again, the odd one out, having to listen to Sharleen Spiteri or Faye from Steps? Or Angelina? Or Neve Campbell? Bloody typical!
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But I guess my one big regret was leaving it so long to tell family. 10 years it took me to blurt it out to them; Sat on a sofa, waiting for a friend to pick me up and take me back to Manchester - Halloween of all nights. And I just blurted it out. I sure pick my moments. And it was fine. And for years I’d fretted over being a disappointment, not carrying on the family name, being different. But at the end of the day none of that matters, because there’s love there. And I know my story is a lucky story. Everyone’s tale is different. But as long as you’re being true to yourself, well that’s all that counts. And people who believe that ridiculous idea that sexuality is a choice; well I didn’t choose to be who I am. Follow Ben on Twitter - @spiceyben |
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