Every good queer has their “boom, and that’s when I knew I was a gay” moment. Don’t they? Well, I do. It’s good to have that fail-safe story to pull out, something charming, naive, exciting. It’s something heterosexuals aren’t lucky enough to have, and it makes us feel that bit special.
I’ve heard stories of awkward changing room moments, teacher crushes, and interesting feelings towards cast members of Neighbours. But, because I am a narcissist, let’s hear mine. To, you know, break new and exciting ground.
Let’s set the scene. Primary school aged me on the London underground with my family. Little Northerner heads to the big city, the noise, the lights, the people – Harrods. All so new and exciting, senses zinging with external stimuli. Sat opposite me was a lady in an olive green skirt-suit. She had shiny brunette hair, and was reading (what I later realised to be as it was pink) the Financial Times. Looking at her (possibly too intensely) I was overwhelmed by the thought “I want to be this lady’s husband”. Which was particularly confusing given Tammy Girl me had no desire what-so-ever to be a boy.
And that’s when I knew I was a massive gay. Cue laughter, awws, comments.
So, um, there we go! Short but sweet. What’s your story dear readers?
This feature piece was written by Amy Ekins, writer of fiction and non-fiction alike. She is training as a Project Manager for a publishing company, a graduate of English Literature and Creative Writing, and can be found at www.twitter.com/amyeek – Go on, give her a tweet!