I’d had girlfriends in the past but I knew something wasn’t right. Yeah, I like girls but
not in a sexual way. Deep down I always knew I was gay but tried to hide the fact,
afraid of what people would say. By people I don’t mean the average Jo Bloggs, I’m
talking about my family. I’ve always been close to them, as far back as I can
remember my family have always been there for me, supporting me in every
decision I’ve ever made. However, growing up I can always recall my father ranting
and raving about the television. ‘Its all about poofs and lesbians these days’ he
would say as he got up to leave the room. This is one f the reasons I was too
nervous and afraid to come out.
So here I was, 21 years old, sitting in my bedroom with two really good friends,
Andrew and Gemma. I’d already come out to Gemma about three weeks earlier.
With Andrew there was no need to tell him as I’d been sleeping with him for the last
four months, so I think he knew.
Anyway, back to my bedroom, Gemma was trying to persuade me to go downstairs
and come out to my dad as the day before I’d told her I was ready to tell my family.
However, now I wasn’t too sure. I wanted to tell them but I was terrified. What if they
disowned me? Chucked me out? Then what?
Gemma agreed to come down with me and be there for support. As I trembled down
the stairs, butterflies in my stomach I could hear my dad singing along to one of his
Gilbert O’Sullivan songs. As we reached to doorway to the dining room I froze, panic
struck in. I couldn’t move, I wanted to turn and go back upstairs but my legs wouldn’t
‘Hallo son!’ my dad said in a cheery voice.
‘Hi pops, I’ve got something to tell you’ I whimpered.
I went in and sat down at the opposite end of the table to my dad. Gemma stood
behind me with her hand on my shoulder.
My dad looked at us and said to Gemma ‘Are you pregnant?’.
Shaking her head she said no. My dad looked at me and I began crying.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said.
‘Dad, I’m gay’ – there I’d said it, he knows, what now, is he going to hit me, throw me
out, I needed to know.
I went over to him, still crying and gave him a big cuddle. He started crying too. We
stayed like this for what seemed like hours but was actually about 3 to 4 minutes. He
told me he wanted to be on his own for a bit so Gemma, Andrew and I left and went
up to the Old Brown Jug for a drink. On the way up I kept saying over and over ‘I
can’t believe I told him’ whilst at the same time thinking ‘what am I going to do now?’.
When he gets over the shock what’s he going to do or say? I was still scared.
I was in the pub for about 40 minutes when I noticed door open and my dad walked
in. He went in the other room. ‘I knew it, he hates me’ I said. I wanted the ground to
swallow me up there and then. Less than 5 minutes later my dad walked in the room
again, he came straight towards me, handed me a pint and said ‘there you are son, I
love you, always’.