Mark | 29 | London, England | Theatre Marketing
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The first man I kissed I shouldn’t name for legal reasons, but more for the fact that nowadays he’s happily married and a well known actor from stage and TV. The fact that he took advantage of me, a shy and sexually baffled fifteen year old on my third night of work experience on a west end show is, retrospectively, slightly inappropriate and really rather wrong but to be honest, that gropey kiss in a nasty dressing room changed everything. Given my parents are about to retire and move out of our family home of sixteen years I recently visited them and found several old diaries which account for my last few years of school and my actual coming out story. It was all the way back in October 2001, back when the world was still reeling from the devastation of 9/11, when Lady Gaga was only fifteen and dreaming of making a dress out of meat and iPhones didn’t even exist. Reading back those diary entries has been interesting. Some of them are hideously embarrassing, some are really boring, but a lot of them just go to show how conflicted, confused, alone and frightened I was. Looking back on that time it’s reminded me that coming out is tough and even harder to do, but I’m glad I’ve done it and more than happy to be sharing my story in a bid to help you. |
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"As a kid I was painfully shy and always knew I was very different from other boys my age; always thinking there was something ‘weird’ about me."
Even my birthday party looked like a Village People video
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Even from a very young age I remember having what now I can see were enormous crushes on my swimming teacher (we’re talking proper Hollister model in ridiculously small Speedos here) and my trumpet teacher, a super hot nineteen year old fresh from the army who smelt of stale cigarette smoke and taught me how to blow my horn (so to 'very much' speak).
When puberty hit I was sentenced to a seven year stretch at an all-boy public school where it seemed everyone else had cottoned on to the fact that I was gay way before I had. The years of their bullying made me really unhappy and suffer eating disorders and (as then) undiagnosed depression which I went through quietly, too frightened to tell anyone how and what I was feeling. I’m rightly proud I got through those years, subsequently faced those issues and come to know that I am much stronger and better person because of them. I don’t get messed with now. "Without wanting it to sound like a glorified version of Dawson’s Creek (if you’re too young, Google it) the first person I told I was gay, three days later became my first ever boyfriend." |
I had recently turned 18 and having just finished my A'levels was working in a department store alongside a ridiculously hot guy who sold spoons. We shared a mutual friend who told me he was gay, which instantly terrified and attracted me to him. We eventually became friends and hung out a lot, even once going to Heaven where I assured him I was only going for the music as he believed that I was straight. I knew I liked him and wanted to be with him but just couldn’t take that step to admitting that to him as I was so scared.
To console myself I thought I would wait until university where no one would know me and I would sashay out of the proverbial closet like Beyoncé at an awards show. Little did I know it was going to happen sooner than I thought. I’ll let 18 year old me take over at this point...
Weds 24 October 2011 . . . . . I know what you’re thinking. I read the diaries of Adrian Mole, Anne Frank and Bridget Jones way too much growing up and my sentence structures have the literary skill of a Katie Price novel but still. Over the next few days we were inseparable during work and outside of it, spending time together talking and he eventually told me he liked me on a park bench in the village where I grew up. Even now when I drive past it I smile that it is where I had my first proper and warranted gay kiss. This diary entry from a few days later best sums it up... Sat 27 October 2011 . . . . . |
The dreaded diaries
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I’d suddenly relocated from planet earth to cloud nine and the world suddenly span so much faster. Having acted like a love sick puppy for so long my family obviously suspected something had happened given the complete turnaround in my mood and feeling guilty I figured I would tell my sister. She'd just passed her test so telling her while she drove us down the M25 in heavy rain and at night probably wasn’t the best timing; she took it well anyway.
It took even longer to tell my parents but a few weeks later I found myself ready, purely as the guilt of lying to them was making me feel terrible. Being naturally shy, and from a family that prefer to skirt around issues instead of barge right through them, I knew it wasn’t something I could say out loud so I wrote them a letter, pouring my heart out and telling them absolutely everything. I left it outside the kitchen door and bolted out of the house and to a local park where I sat on a bench chain smoking and panicking. An hour later my phone went off. It was a text message from my dad that I wish I still have.
‘Come home whenever you’re ready. We love you. Love mum and dad x’
I probably choked down another few Lambert and Butlers (don’t judge me, I was 18 and didn’t know any better) before reluctantly walking home. At the bottom of the driveway the front door opened and my dad was there who gave me a massive hug and thanked me for telling them. He took me to the kitchen where my mum sat crying and we talked. It was a difficult but honest conversation where we spoke about everything, all the while assuring me that they supported me, even apologising that I’d had to go through it all alone. Understandably, just as it took me time to come to terms with being gay, they needed time and answers too. They still have the letter to this day.
The only reason it took me so long to tell them was because of my dad’s job. We lived in a tiny and gossip-filled village where he was the local vicar of the church on the hill and I knew that ‘have you heard the vicar’s son is gay?’ would do the rounds in no time, and it did. My dad has always been my hero anyway, but the fact that he made it clear to the narrow-minded few that he was a dad first and a vicar second was amazing, especially as he was putting me way before the beliefs of what his job involved. In recent years even my mum has become the local expert for other women who have sons that have recently come out too.
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Gradually the rest of my family either figured it out or were told, and by and large they have all been hugely supportive. They have met my boyfriends (by that I mean the guys I have dated, I don’t have several on the go at the same time obviously) and embraced that it’s a part of me. Most recently my boyfriend at the time was invited as my guest to my nephew’s christening and I told my gran as I wanted her to know. She didn’t bat an eyelid and even offered to make us tea in bed the next morning.
"Ultimately being gay is an important part of my life, but without question the biggest part is living my life honestly and openly - as a son, a brother, an uncle, a godfather and friend to the people around me that I love - regardless of the fact I like men." Above all I am a person born with the right to be happy in his own skin, as we all are. It might not seem it right now, but you’re entitled to that life too. Your coming out story is obviously going to be a challenge but it’s one worth doing. Just remember that tough times are always temporary, and you’ll be a braver and more secure person because of it, just like I have been. I have been incredibly lucky to be surrounded by people who love and support me and I’m sure you will be too. Follow Mark on Twitter - @TweetsByJonesy |
Me and my nephew!
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