OUT

Chapter 21

Thursday, November 27th 2014

Jack lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He couldn't shake Millie's words. Every argument he made -that he had indeed inherited from his parents, like she had said - she had a logical rebuttal for. And she didn't argue in the way his mother did. His mother was quite aggressive in her tone. Hateful even. Millie was passionate, sure, but there was logic to what she was saying. She knew what she was talking about, and she stood by it.

'...the sooner you realise your parents aren't who you thought they were growing up, the better,' she had said. The words were etched into his brain already. Could she be right? He grew up thinking his father was a hero. A man everyone liked and respected. But the older Jack got, the more he realised his father was probably an alcoholic, with unchecked mental illness, and a wife he was afraid to stand up to. He thought his mother was loving, and accepting - the kindest person he'd ever met. But he had grown up to realise she was a very angry woman. She had an inner rage at the world that she took out on those she was meant to love. He loved his parents of course. The two of them were all he had. But he didn't like them, he realised.

'Religion is an opinion. My sexuality...my existence is a fact. And I will not hide it.'

Jack felt tears streaking down his face. Deep down he knew why. Millie was right. But this was a question of human rights versus bigotry and hate. And religion wasn't an excuse. He wasn't particularly religious anyway, but scapegoating a book written thousands of years ago as an excuse to be homophobic seemed unfair. Cowardly even. He hadn't read the Bible, but surely there were countless orders in it that didn't translate particularly well to modern society either. People just focused on this because it suited their agenda. And he had allowed them to brainwash him.

Most of what they discuss at the 'No' meetings back home wasn't even on point. It wasn't factual. It was anger-fuelled rants about why gay men are paedophiles. There was always an anger there. His mother. The others in the parish. Anyone pushing the 'No' side. He didn't really get the word 'homophobic' before, but now he did. These people seem genuinely fearful of gay people. But why? He didn't understand. All the 'Yes' side seemed to want was for their love and relationships to be recognised. Yet people were acting like they were going to shoot up a school? His whole life, the gays had been villainised by his mother. And he didn't get it. So much so, that he hadn't even considered it a possibility that he had an interest in men. Because it wasn't an option for him, it couldn't be.

But maybe Millie was right. Maybe he was gay. Or bi. But he wasn't like the characters he had seen on TV. He wasn't into fashion, or particularly well dressed. He didn't like makeup, or musicals. Or drama. He liked football, and going out with the lads, and the gym.

Jack reached across to the locker beside his bed, and picked up his phone. He opened Google and began typing.

How do you know you're gay?

He clicked on an article from SpunOut.ie and read it through squinted eyes.

'If you fancy other guys, feel excited when you think about them, masturbate to thoughts of them, and want to date and have relationships with them, this could be an indicator that you're gay.'

Jack didn't want to be in a relationship with a guy, at least he didn't think so. Not even Paul. He remembered being infatuated with some of his male friends growing up, but that was just because he envied them and wanted to be like them. That was surely normal? Like Mark. He didn't fancy Mark. He cared about him a lot of course, but he didn't have romantic feelings for his friend. Once or twice he may have popped into Jack's head when he was wanking, but he had quickly pushed him out of his brain. Besides, Jack had rode a woman. More than once. A gay man couldn't do that, surely?

'The opinion of our friends and family can mean a lot to us, and it can be nerve-wracking to keep something from them.'

He thought about Mark and his parents. Could he talk to any of them about this? Mark might be creeped out by him. And his parents would hit the roof. But who else could he talk to? He had no one else he was close enough to that he could trust. Nobody would listen, or understand. A tear fell onto the screen of his phone and Jack realised he was sobbing. He quickly clamped his palm over his mouth to mask the noise as best as possible. His chest felt heavy. He had had a few asthma attacks as a child, and although he couldn't really remember them, he assumed that this sensation was what they had felt like. Like someone was standing on his upper chest, stopping him from drawing breath.

'A lot of straight men experiment in their youth, even if they don't discuss it openly, and that's OK too! This doesn't make them gay, but it's healthy and normal to experiment.'

Experimenting. That's what his kiss with Ciarán had been. And that didn't make him gay. He was fucked drunk and it had meant nothing. The same with Paul at the Halloween party. He had been drunk both times. His tears continued to fall. He didn't want to kiss Ciarán again. But kissing girls didn't feel fully right either. It almost felt robotic. Numb, like he was just going through the motions. He thought back to riding Róisín at his debs in the disabled toilet and again in the field. He had had a boner, but still didn't really feel anything. The sensation was technically nice, but so was wanking. He didn't feel anything for her though, not that she'd be interested in him now anyway. But he realised he didn't want to kiss girls.

Jack wanted to kiss Paul again. He wanted to experiment more with him. Maybe he was bi?

He dropped his phone onto his pillow and focused on trying to control his breathing, which had now become more erratic. He clamped his hands over his face, covering both his mouth and his eyes and tried to calm himself. Then he realised what he had just thought.

He wanted to kiss Paul.

'Oh God. Oh no, oh no, oh no...' he muttered erratically under his breath.

He wanted to kiss a man. Actively wanted to. He wasn't just curious. He wanted to feel Paul's lips against his. His breath against them. His hands wrapped around him. His chest pressed against his. Skin on skin. He had feelings for Paul.

He had feelings for a man.