So my partner and I were in the car the other morning listening to an episode of a podcast series commemorating 50 years since the beginning of decriminalisation of poovery in England and Wales. Each week the host speaks to well known gay men and gets their take on the different struggles of growing up, coming out and becoming fabulous and this particular week was a certain Savage drag queen’s male persona. At one point the duo were discussing how Gaydom has changed over the last couple of decades and not necessarily for the better, Mr O voicing his belief that back in’t day things were a bit wilder and how gays nowadays have become much more banal and dull.  This got me thinking about my own journey down the pink path and I’d like to share a bit of it if you’ll let me. (Incidentally at the time my partner and I were clattering around the countryside in my worn out old Merc looking for bargains in second hand charity shops, shamefully beige and middle class.)

So when I were a lad things were much more underground than they are now and us gays were still privy to abuse from chavs and neds who clearly still resided in the dark ages. Now, let it be said for the record that the most abuse I ever had from strangers was two kids giggling at me buying hairspray but I was aware of a few of my friends having a much, much harder time than me. This was the mid to late 90’s, homosexuality wasn’t accepted in the way it is now, the gay community was still coming through the AIDS crisis and same sex couples could barely look at one another in your average bar or club, much less show the slightest bit of affection. So we had our own safe spaces; our own pubs, our own clubs and ultimately our own culture and I liked the feeling of having something that was mine and mine alone, my peer group up until that point wouldn’t come here, my family didn’t know where ‘here’ was so it was just mine. I could be me, if only I knew who Me was. What I have always been very adept at being the odd one out, being different.

You see I’ve consistently been a bit of a contradiction. I’ve said before I don’t remember a time when I haven’t felt a bit less than, kinda like a McDonald’s burger; decent enough but not really satisfying and no substance to it whatsoever. Every relationship I’ve ever had be it personal, professional or romantic I have had a perpetual feeling of being a fraud, that I would eventually be found out and exposed to be the useless, worthless asshole I knew myself to be and in the end everyone would leave me. I was nowhere near as interesting as other people, not as rounded, not as clever and certainly not as funny  but in the same breath somehow I’ve always felt completely and utterly unique.

When I was really young I knew that I was completely different than the other kids I grew up with. I felt a weight on me that I couldn’t quite shift, a seriousness if you will from keeping secrets and telling lies. I learned at a really young age how to suppress the feelings I was having, paint on a happy face and pretend that all was well and it’s only been recently that this ‘fake it cos you aint it’ default mentality has shifted and I’ve been comfortable in expressing myself with honesty and clarity and that is mainly through facing up to my reflection, but as usual, I digress.

When I hit high school and my sexuality began to surface I felt the chasm between me and my peers widen, I knew full well that I was a gaylord and was so adept at suppression and falsehoods it honestly never even entered my head to have a conversation with anyone about it so that too became a secret to be kept at all costs. There were a couple of guys at my high school that were ‘out’, both quite effeminate and both having such a rough time I remember thinking there was no way in HELL I wanted to join their cause. I didn’t see myself as part of their wee clique anyway, I might not be the star athlete at school but I don’t think I was a Mary-Anne either. I think what I’m trying to say is I’ve always been a bit of an outsider, too gay to be comfortable with the straight crowd and a bit too straight to relax with the gays and if I’m honest I kinda liked it that way. In those moments I liked that I didn’t fit in anywhere because it allowed me to flit between lots of groups without committing to any. It allowed me to be a bit of a loner and that gave me the space and the safety of solitude. Anyway, back to Lily.

I liked that I was the token gay at work, I was the butch(er) gay on the scene and I was the quiet loner at home. I never wanted to be the garden-centre-on-a-Sunday, estate car driving, middle class suburbanite and to be fair when I was coming up the ranks that was never a realistic possibility, what WAS my reality though is that for once I discovered I had power. I was late teens, early twenties, good looking and as any seasoned queen can testify, “fresh meat” but all I could register was that I was desirable, I was attractive. The only attraction I had held until then was as a punchbag so in my little mind this was just peachy! Here were a bunch of really ace people who liked me for me.

Honestly, how stupid could a person be!!

What I didn’t realise in my naivety was that in this environment sex was sport and I was about to be the latest game, well bollocks to that, Mavis. I had already had my first real sexual partner at high school; both 13/14, obviously both living at home so any chance we had to have ANY time alone together had to be stolen; department store toilets, school toilet block, in bushes or trees at parks, up alleyways, all very seedy and rushed and unfortunately starting a pattern that would lead me to have a very skewered view on emotional expression, love and ultimately sex. When I DID eventually hit the gay scene I did it with gusto and instead of being fair game, what I set about doing was making myself the team captain. I took absolute control and became the predator, if someone took my eye I went after them shamelessly and I literally did not give a shit what people thought of me, I was finally calling the shots and doing my own thing, how could that be wrong? Complete and utter tool. 

What I failed miserably to register was that I had already begun to separate emotion from the sex to such a degree that it had literally become nothing more than a physical release for me. No feelings, no great demonstration of love and certainly no emotional bonding, sex had become nothing more than a tawdry, sordid communication and BOY could I talk!  All of the years I was made to feel less than, told I was worthless, well here was my affirmation, confirmation and recognition all rolled into one communication. I didn’t realise what a dark and seedy path I was treading (running) but at the time I thought it was exactly what I needed to do to keep myself afloat, probably keep myself alive and to be honest, it wasn’t such a big deal for me, I was the master of compartmentalising, and if nameless, faceless sexual encounters helped me feel good about myself, why the hell not? Wasn’t like I was harming anyone, now was it?

To be continued…….