Stepping out
We all remember that exciting, nerve-racking night when we made our debut on the scene. So what was it like for you, the first time you walked through the door of a gay venue?
JONATHAN STEWART, 23, CELEBRITY-BOOKING AGENT, OXFORD
I was wearing a flight suit I’d bought from a military surplus shop for £45. Unfortunately, I didn’t boil it before I put it on. Big mistake. Big. Huge. The flight suit had bedbugs, and as a result I got bedbugs too.
I’d just moved to Brighton to study for three years, and I considered myself fairly well-versed in what it meant to be gay. No, I’d never been to a gay club, but I’d watched Queer as Folk, and I’d given a blowjob, and I had a profile on Thingbox, where I’d learned that being gay meant having a beard, saying scathing things to people who didn’t have beards, and being able to dribble pop culture references on cue. I couldn’t (and still can’t) grow a beard, and scathing doesn’t really work for me, but I was halfway through Buffy the Vampire Slayer; as far as I was concerned, I was ready to make my debut on the scene.