A Coming Out Story.
It's a truth universally acknowledged, that within the LGBTQ+ community, most of us have something of a 'coming out story'. When asked to tell my own, I'm never sure quite which memory to recount - my own story proceeded as a few erratic jumps into and out of the closet. I didn't open the door so much as flirt with it for two years…before being unceremoniously dragged out.
The first instance of admitting that I was sexually attracted to women, something I'd scarcely wanted to admit to myself at the time, went like this: The setting is dark.
I'm fourteen years old, exhausted and returning from a school trip to Berlin to view the crumblies (a term for historical monuments I have inherited from my mum), on a coach rattling its way back to Suffolk. I'm sitting next to a girl I've become quite good friends with over the past few months. Both of us have acquired a reputation within our friendship group for being a bit daring by 'flirting' precariously with our female friends (because it's funny – of course). We're affectionately lauded as 'the lesbians' by our friends, except not really because it's assumed that we're still totally straight. The strict boundaries for heterosexuality observed by the rest of the nation aren't really meant for private school girls. The rule is, it's ok to be a little bit gay for your friends, because there aren't any males nearby to coo at. Or so we all thought.
“ We're affectionately lauded as 'the lesbians' by our friends, except not really because it's assumed that we're still totally straight.”
Back to the bus.
It's very late at night, but I'm still talking to the girl next to me. I make some comment about how gay the both of us are. Haha. I’ll say I'm kidding if I'm pressed on it, though. I don't know if she's really like me.
(I've decided she isn't, anyway. She reads mostly gay fiction, but also reads Vogue and is good at sports, which is clearly incompatible with female same sex attraction in my fourteen–year-old eyes.)
Making jokes about my sexuality puts me at ease. I feel as though I can be honest for a second about my inner life and the hoard of female classmates I've silently pined over.
“ I feel as though I can be honest for a second about my inner life.”
I'm utterly unprepared for her reply, which is: 'Hang on, I thought we'd agreed we were both bisexual, or pansexual?' I whip round to look at her. 'Huh?' There's a moment of silence. 'Are you, then?' I say. 'Yes', she whispers. Another silence. My heart is literally in my throat. Saying it out loud makes it real. Am I actually going to do this? 'So am I.' 'Bisexual?' 'Yeah...' A long silence as we both stare at each other, panicking. 'Hang on, did we just come out to each other on a BUS?!' The mutual gay panic is overcome by how ridiculous and totally accidental the situation is, and we spend the rest of the journey in quiet hysterics and relief. Looking back, it wasn't a big deal, probably. But it was such a big turning point in my life that I used to divide my life into 'pre-bus' and 'post-bus' events. ‘What happened on the bus from Berlin?’ became something of a joke in our friendship group. The more our friends prodded us, the tighter lipped we were about it, as neither of us wanted to tell anyone else. However, it was a relief finally having a confidante, though I ended up getting teased MERCILESSLY for the girls I'd fancied in the past. We became best friends, and still are to this day.
Article written by MJ
(She/Her)