I have to remind people, that things may not make sense, again imagine what’s in my head. Don’t be afraid to ask questions if needing clarification….. Also feel free to leave comments below.
I really don’t like when people say that your sexuality is a choice. Let’s be real for a moment, if being gay was a choice, majority of gay guys would be in a committed heterosexual relationship and most likely have kids by now. Everybody goes through shit in this world, but I dare you to pretend to be gay for a month. So believe me when I say it is not that easy. It’s bloody hard living our lives all confused. Not in the way of, ‘do i like boys or girls?’ Instead, the confusion comes from society telling us that heterosexual is the norm, and homosexual is wrong and disgusting. So our emotions become drained from hiding our true selves from people. Pretending to be what we “should” be, when all we are is societies burdens and disappointment.
I remember the first house we lived in, we were there until I was 5. Surely you all know that game basically all kids play? You know, the one where girls and boys play “show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” Remembering the bus stop that was across the road, myself and another boy playing that exact game. Except it was more like play with mine and I’ll play with yours. I remember to this day Mum finding us and telling us off. I asked mum if she remembers that day, but she can’t. I find it quite funny and laugh about it every time I think of it.
When you get asked, “when did you know you were gay?” It is actually a simple answer. The truth is I knew all along. Sure when you’re a kid, society paints a different picture; you don’t understand what this difference is. I didn’t understand what a homosexual or gay meant when I was young. It only sinks in with yourself finally understanding. Understanding why you were crushing on your own sister’s boyfriends, or being 9 years old and fantasising about your year 5 school teacher who seemed so manly. I was some what crushing on him and his macho hairy chest and beard.
About two years ago, when life was really hard in my marriage, I really got sick in the head for the fact of being sexually abused as a child by a female perpetrator, I started to believe this could have been why I was who I was. I blamed her for the way I am, because anything would have been easier than being married to a man at this point in time, believe me.
I had my first gay experience at the age of 10; it was with my good friend Steve. It all started with us staying over each others houses and daring each other to do things, then the dares started becoming more and more sexual. Daring to kiss each other on the cheeks, then the lips. Daring to use our tongues, then kissing while laying on top of one another. Daring to kiss each other while stripping to our underwear, to kissing with removing our underwear. Daring to touch each others arses, to touching each others penises. Daring to stroke each other while kissing, to then giving blow jobs to each other. All leading to the day where we dared to bend each other over for penetration. OMG!! We both screamed so loudly the first time it happened, and even though it hurt like a bitch, it was the best thing I have ever felt, it was truly amazing. We worked out pretty soon that Steve was more the top and I the bottom, which I was totally fine with, Every time after when we had sex, it was so sensual and passionate. This happened for some years until we both started to have girlfriends. Still then, at times we couldn’t resist. However we completely stopped when Steve got married and had kids. We never spoke about it; it didn’t seem a need to. We knew there was some type of love there, but not that typical kind of love. This love was more a strong friendship with respect, trust and understanding of what the actual situation was. We remained real good friends without sexual contact and still to this day we have a chat now and then on the phone.
Besides Steve, no one knew, not for a long time. I tried to not show it, but how? You can’t pretend to be someone you’re not. However I did, for some reason I felt I had to. Then over the years I started to believe that I was somewhat this person. Even though I was still getting bullied for the person I was trying so hard not to be. This just added more to the confusion inside me.
It wasn’t until I told the first person…
Sarah was a typical blonde hotty that most guys would turn their head for. However, to me she was a person with the same family struggles regarding survival and strength. From living in a low-income background like me. However this girl had confidence. We became really close friends and hardly left each other’s side. We even moved out of home for the first time ever together. We were 14 at the time. Getting high on weed and on coffee, staying awake all night laughing our heads off. She let me be who I was, I didn’t have to act or pretend. For so long she begged me to let her put make up on my face. I always gave her the same answer….”Fuck off. I’m gay not a fucking woman.” She taught me that no matter the situations in your life; you should look after yourself and be brave. Her family loved me for me as well, I really miss those days. Yes, Sarah did empower me, yes she gave me confidence. But I only had that when she was around. With other people who didn’t know at this point, I still felt I had to pretend. Apart from Steve I never slept with anyone else at that point. This is where it gets tricky and a little more confusing.
When I was 17, still working at Hungry Jacks, I met another amazing girl, Angie. The tricky part was the feelings I had for this girl wasn’t just a friendship and respect. I wanted her more than that. I realised the same feelings I have had for guys for so long, I am having for this girl? I felt Angie and I was on the same level, made each other laugh enjoyed the same music, and was really great to talk to. I’m sure I made her angry a few times by saying I’m going to stay home, only to get busted driving around with a mate. When I look back now, I can honestly say there were times I was mean. But more so, I felt we had more of a mental connection, which I somewhat was attracted to. Angie was the first and only girl that I had sex with. At first it was really awkward, as I had no real idea what I was doing. It soon became easier which help me enjoy it some more. Although, whenever I was alone or even at times with Angie, I would look at some guys and fantasise being in bed, wrapped up in their arms. I can honestly say that I loved that chick, but I knew it wasn’t right within myself as I still had urges for guys. I ended up moving inter-state with my Aunty and Uncle, so Angie and I agree to stay together long distance. Not long after she called it off, which actually made me a little upset. However that decision made me decide that I am gay and will not be with another woman again.
While I was interstate, I had time to reflect on who I was, and what I wanted. A year later when I returned to Port, I became more open with the people around me, still keeping it from my family as I had no idea how to tell them. My bestie Sherri was in a same-sex relationship. Sherri truly showed me how to “not give a fuck.” She was loud and proud. I somewhat envied her confidence and self-awareness, and the ability to say “this is me take it or leave it.” With Sherri’s words of wisdom, I became more open and proud. Not so much loud. I got my own first place out Stirling North, and a whole heap of us would just hang out drink, get high off weed sing and dance. But majority of the time it would be just myself, Sherri and Alan.
Pic: Bestie Sherri and I. 20 years of treasured moments
I had known Alan for a few years but never really got to know him until he started at Hungry Jacks. He was a good mate who had lots of fun, and he never made you frown. Then one night he came to my place and we had a few drinks. Eventually I went to bed and fell asleep. Then sometime after, I had Alan shaking me awake to ask if he can crawl into my bed. I wasn’t going to argue, I really liked this guy. I can truly say Alan was the first real love of my life. It was hard, as we both hadn’t told our families, however our close circle of friends knew. We didn’t tell them, they busted us, while we both lied about our plans. They drove past my house. We were both so relieved that the loved the idea of us.
For years I struggled to tell my mother, more so I didn’t want her to be disappointed. I was scared, my mum was my everything, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like if I lost her over my sexuality. So one day Mum called me for my 22nd birthday, as she had moved interstate. I had no intention telling her anything about me; I actually didn’t even have it in my mind at the time. However this is how the conversation goes.
Me: “Hello mumma.”
Mum: “Happy Birthday Son, have you had a good day?”
ME: “Yeah I just got to Adelaide, going out to party tonight.”
Mum: “Oh yeah?” “So you been kissing any girls lately?”
Mum: “What? Why? have you been kissing boys then?” (In a joking around way followed with a chuckle).
Me: “Well, Maybe.”
Mum: “Philip you’re not a poofter.” (This conversation was priceless)
Me: “Yeah Mumma I am a poofter.”
A pause that lasted no more than 5 seconds felt like a life time, the thoughts that ran through my head in the short space of time was unbelievable. Then Mum spoke.
Mum: “As long as you’re happy and safe. You’re my son I love you.”
The feeling of relief with this was overwhelming and weight lifting. Since my family knew, all but my father, I felt more able to be the person I tried so hard not to be.
I found when I was accepted by the ones I loved, the bullying actually became minimal. Sure you walk down the main street and hear someone yelling out fag or poof. But this time it was different, they weren’t insulting me, they were speaking the truth and I no longer had to feel ashamed of my sexuality.
So I guess in the end, it wasn’t that hard growing up in the Port being gay. It was me that made it hard by hiding who I was and lying for so long. Although, if I didn’t meet the people such as Sarah and Sherri who inspired me to be me, I wonder what direction I would have went.
I would love to hear your thoughts on the coming out process, or feel free to share you coming out story. Just comment below.