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George |



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I can’t remember the time I knew I was gay. I can’t even remember when I was straight (ha), but I do remember the years of denying that I was gay, to others and to myself. I grew up in a small rural town called Thetford. Being quite an opinionated person, some would say I have quite negative opinions on the place, but I think my views are mixed. Sometime during the early years of high school I did fantasise over men, just like the straight guys (who were the majority) fantasised over women. It was weird because, at the time, I automatically disregarded any feelings towards the idea of being gay. I kind of thought about guys but didn’t explore the idea of being gay at all. As I grew up, I didn’t really know anything about being gay, and I don’t think many people did in my school. I wasn’t bullied at all, but there were times when I felt I was teased. ‘Are you gay George?’

​This was followed by the awkward response ‘no’ and people looking at me unreassuringly, with a smirk on their faces which translated into ‘please say yes so we can take the piss out of you and tell everyone’. I remember a bisexual girl in my school who was accused of looking at all the girls in the changing rooms. I didn’t want to be the male version of her. I’d also get it from friends sometimes, but I just shrugged it off. At school LGBT people and acceptance was never talked about, ever. At home, nobody ever really spoke about gay people, so overall, I never understood them. It was a complete taboo in our house, and I think it still is. 

"During sixth form life started to get tougher. I couldn’t keep telling myself that I’d ‘deal with it later’. All my friends were getting into relationships; it was pretty much unintentionally rubbed in my face."

​Double dates, couples sitting there rubbing one another’s backs and legs or sitting on top of each other – ‘Hey, I’m still here, the lonely single guy’. I guess I would’ve done the same if I had the opportunity. I remember during sixth form, or maybe just after, getting some homophobic comments from guys who thought they knew me – you know, the ones in school that everybody is intimidated by, and nobody really likes. The ones who’ve definitely got problems of their own - yeah, those. I remember one prat saying to my friend, ‘Oi, watch it mate, don’t want to walk behind him, he might bum ya’. Classic! I think he was probably angry that he just received his GCSE grades. Anyway, this abuse was very rare.

"I came to the point where I couldn’t cope anymore, and my friends could tell. I was acting irrational at times and hating on myself. My friend Demi put me in contact with a counsellor. I had severe depression; anxiety which was through the roof, and suicidal thoughts."

​I was paranoid that someone was going to find out my secret. I wasn’t happy at my first university. I made a terrible choice. There was no reason why I went there other than it was close. I was partly convinced by my parents to stay local, but also, I just didn’t have the confidence (or encouragement) to go further afield, like most people from my area. I hated life. I hit rock bottom. I felt like I had nobody to talk to. But I did. I rang my friend Demi one evening. I had to leave my house and sit in Sainsburys car park. A broken mess, I told her that I was bisexual. I didn’t want to say I was gay, because, by saying that, it felt like saying, ‘I commit to only having sex with men for the rest of my life’. I was so relieved when she said ‘George, don’t worry, that’s OK’. I couldn’t believe it. She said whatever you are, I’m still your friend and I love you. I felt better after a long cry, but part of me knew this was only the beginning. I told her I was scared to tell others. I told her that I was scared that if I told my best friend Jake, he would reject me because he may have thought I fancied him. 

At the time I was having issues with some friends. I felt pressured to tell them that I was gay. That wasn’t right at all, and it was handled terribly. Worst of all, some people were telling my friend Jake that I was ‘obsessed’ and that I ‘loved’ him. In fact, I was insecure and actually I felt that I had a male friend that I could relate to. I was never one to have many male friends, but I wanted to. Now I think about it, I was probably put off having male friends and doing ‘male’ things. I was put off sport from a young age because I couldn’t hang out with the 'lads' because I was scared that they thought I was gay and would avoid me. Thankfully, when I was out of secondary school, I did have lots of male friends whom I played football with – it was great, even if the banter was brutal.

So all I wanted was that male friend, who accepted me for who I was. I wanted to prove to myself that actually, straight guys can have best friends who are gay. At this point the very few gay people I did know lived up to a stereotype that I didn't feel represented me . I had internalised hate for myself, and therefore, internalised homophobic attitudes towards myself. This meant that I didn’t want to conform to this 'expected persona'. Now though, I really don’t care! I’d happily admit that I like Bridget Jones and listen to Spice Girls.



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