My Coming Out Story

'Coming Out' is an interesting phrase. It signifies stepping out into the world, from a place of darkness, becoming yourself and independent. In some ways it sums up this deeply personal process quite well, but I've never liked the phrase.  What may be 'one day' to some was in fact many years for me. I remember one particular day in Year 10 at school. I was 15, and sat in the middle of a French lesson. Looking out the window, in a world of my own, as French verbs entered one ear and left the other, I noticed a guy walking through the gates. He was older than me, probably about 17 or 18, and seemed to walk with a swagger that suggested confidence and aplomb. He was a good-looking lad... It was at this point where I first had thoughts that I might be "different". Only in the past 18 months or so, do I fully appreciate what these feelings meant. But this story doesn't just span one day. It spans many emotion-riddled years.

I was confused at this time of my life. At the age of 15, my peers were just starting to talk about dating girls, and being interested in the opposite sex, and I seem to remember compliments flying my way from a couple of girls in my year. I was unsure of how to feel. I remember thinking I should act normally, like everyone else, except I wasn't like anyone else. I have always been more comfortable in male company, whether I thought they were cute or not, its just who I am. I don't know why. I suppose it is just another attribute that makes me, me. Even so, at the age of 15, in the middle of the brutal school environment, I was still at that age where I felt like I had to fit in. I don't think I knew I was gay at this point. I was still too young to realise what was happening, but the confusion was certainly there. I entered a couple of relationships with girls, merely to mask the mystification of what was going on. They never lasted very long, as I never felt at all comfortable in them. It wasn't as if I didn't like them. They were good people and they were friends, but I knew deep down they were never going to be anything more.

The idea of boy-girl relationships is something that is socially accepted as "normal". It stands to reason then, especially as a teenager, that anything other than that isn't normal. At all. The quantity of homophobic jokes that circulated the school, during lunch breaks and PE lessons for example, were incredible. Coming out in school then was not an option for me. I don't think anyone should come out in school, at least before Sixth Form. I always felt that if you did, you'd become a social outcast. I remember one guy who did, and he was bullied non-stop. I laughed along, wanting to be involved in the right social groups, but I felt terrible at the same time. I was laughing at a young man who was similar to me. It didn't feel right.

It was when I turned 17 where things started to get more... serious. If that is the right word. I had matured slightly, gathered the thoughts of the past few years and collated them to arrive at one possible conclusion. I think by the Winter of 2008, I had worked out that I wasn't "straight". Yet still I was not brave enough to tell even my closest friends. I was still relatively shy, especially when it came to the concept of relationships, and with everything else going on in my life, this frankly huge event almost took a back seat in proceedings. It was of course, the start of the meltdown that ended in me walking away from that school with a set of grades that would have made a chimpanzee upset. But there was another hurdle to jump before I could even contemplate telling anyone. By the time I was 18 years old, I had spent many years listening to taunts of acquaintances at school, on the football pitch, in referee training sessions, with everyone labelling gay men as "fancyboys" and "Kings of the Camp". I'm not "fancy". I'm certainly not camp. Homophobia at school was, and maybe still is, a hugely potent subject. Gay people were the butt of a lot of jokes, (excuse the pun!), so much so, they might aswell have made it part of the curriculum. I started questioning myself, asking myself whether this was just a "phase". There was a point in this process where I wanted to be different. I'm fairly sure the majority of gay men ask themselves the same question. Maybe it's just hormones. Maybe I will have a wife and children after all? Maybe I'll grow out of it? I knew I had to accept it myself though, before gaining the acceptance of others.

Of course, now I know that's complete nonsense. You are born gay, and you discover it. It cannot be changed. But at the time, I was genuinely contemplating ignoring the signs, telling myself it was a phase, and set my mind on the life of a straight man. I was going to find myself a girlfriend and it was all going to be fine. Almost as if it was an illness or something. But gradually, slowly but surely, I started to realise how miserable a life that would be. Living a lie. I couldn't do that.

For the first time ever, at the age of 18, I knew for certain that I wasn't straight. Whether I was gay or bisexual, frankly wasn't an answer I was attempting to find. Merely accepting that I wasn't "normal" was enough to be getting my head around for the time being. For the past few years, I've asked myself that question, but only very recently have I settled on the fact I am gay. And most importantly, accepted that it isn't abnormal in any way shape or form.

But of course, the title of this revealing post insinuates that there is a story behind me "coming out". Oh, there is certainly one of those. But not until much later.

I remember the first time I ever told anyone I was gay. I was 18 and I was talking to a friend of mine, who I knew, but not that well. He wasn't a close friend of mine at this point. Somehow, he knew that something wasn't quite right, and after a few hours of discussion, he simply asked me if I was gay. He just came out with it. I was startled, and panicked a little. But deep down, I knew he wouldn't judge me so I decided upon this moment to start the story. Get the ball rolling and just admit it. I cannot describe the weight that lifted from my shoulders. It almost felt like the weight of the Earth falling off. His response?

"About bloody time!"

... Exactly. It was at this point where it dawned on me that people wouldn't care. I'm not the first guy to "come out", and I won't be the last. I'm not a different person because I'm gay, it is just another part of me. Like someone else who likes fashion but not football. Someone who likes Indian food but not Mexican. I am gay, not straight. It's as simple as that.

From then on, I told my closest friends one by one. For "coming out" doesn't happen once. I found myself constantly "coming out", (I do dislike that phrase...), to friends, to friends of friends who were merely curious and it became a frequent occurrence. I didn't receive a single negative reaction which was an incredible relief, and most importantly, I started to completely accept that I was gay. Except, there were still hurdles to jump. The biggest hurdle that faces anyone who goes through this journey is telling your family. The same people who brought you into this world, hoping one day to cradle young grandchildren in their arms and be at the head of a few generations of offspring running around at Christmas. To tell them I wasn't going to be this person, was my toughest challenge by far.

I had told all of my close friends before I turned 19, but it was almost a year before I told my parents, on one fateful, alcohol-fuelled evening in Manchester, which will always be remembered simply as "that night". I am not usually a person who does regrets. I tend to just move on, as there is nothing you can do about actions that have already occurred. But I do regret how I came out to my parents. I had ended up in hospital in the middle of Manchester after going way overboard on the drinking, and was in a dark, dark place. I had been in that place for months on end, toying with the idea of telling them, but never plucking up the courage. That night, surrounded by the extremities of a hospital environment, it all crashed down on me. It was 5am, but I just had to let it all out. I asked my friend if he could text my Mum, telling her everything, as I didn't know what to put. He typed out the perfect text and sent it, and I got a reply almost instantly, saying everything was fine and that she loved me. And that was that. They knew. And they didn't mind...

It turned out they already knew. Despite me not telling them personally, they already knew. God knows how. Whether someone else had let it slip in conversation, or whether I'd left a Google tab open with pictures of Mitch Hewer on them, I have no idea. I felt a bit of an imbesile, letting myself go through all of that torture over something they already knew about, but I was glad it was out in the open. I never really talked to them about it very often though, and still don't. The first time I have ever mentioned being with a guy was literally a few weeks ago, after a night out in Northampton. I do appreciate I am a closed book at times, especially when it comes to talking to family, but again, that is just me. Another part of my makeup. I'm doing this to show everyone that I am no longer ashamed of who I am. I'm going against my better judgment to help defeat the stigma. And if you are a regular reader of this blog, I do a lot of stigma defeating!

I'm putting this post on Facebook and Twitter for all to see then. I want everyone to know the journey I have been through to get to this stage. I may get negative reactions, but I no longer care, because I know there are people out there who love me regardless. There are sections of people in my life that don't know this. Most people at the cricket club will learn something new about me. Certain people at work will now know why I don't have a girlfriend. Even people I went to school with will now know, and I am all the happier for it. I see no need in tip-toeing around society, hiding it from people when it should be considered as normal as heterosexuality. One day, I wish "coming out" stories won't even be needed. People won't double take upon two men holding hands in the street or ask questions about your personal life, simply because you don't come under the social convention of what is "correct". This is the first time I've been so open with multiple people about this particular part of me though, so I am still nervous of the reaction. It's a feeling I have not forgotten.

I also want to show other teenagers who might be beginning this journey themselves, that it will all be ironed out eventually. There might be tough times, but if your friends are real friends, they won't care one jot. I've been lucky to have the best friends and family on the planet, who accepted me for me and helped me accept who I am. And for that I am so grateful.