Coming out wasn’t something I spent much time worrying about, because I didn’t really know I was gay. I was confused for so long, and then the night it happened (a very drunken night) everything sort of just clicked. Thinking back, I find it hilarious and I’m sure everyone else involved sees the funny side of it, but on the night it was very dramatic, and it caused a fair bit of tension in my family.
No one actually really cared because they’re family, and in our family it doesn’t really matter what you are, so long as you can handle your beer and adequately embarrass yourself once you have done so. So, after quite a lot to drink and a bit of taunting from a few of the more juvenile members of my family – it just happened.
The only thing I can properly remember is being sat down on a bench in my auntie’s front garden by my mum. She simply asked me if I was gay and I said yes, and she said she knew and everything was okay. Next thing I knew, my brother was storming around because he knew I was upset but not why – then I told him. He wasn’t fine with it at first, I could tell. We don’t really talk about it now but I wouldn’t really be comfortable talking about girls with him if I was straight, so I don’t mind. Same with my mum; I’m not really bothered about it.