Chapter One- The ‘G’ word
I remember the first time I heard the word gay. I was ten and me and dad were walking home from football. He was angry because I kept asking question during the match and I was interrupting his celebration, not that our team was any good. As we were walking I saw two men across the road holding hands. I’d never seen this before so I asked my dad: “Why are those men holding hands”? Dad looked at them angrily and started hurrying me along the street.
“Those are gay people son”. He explained hurriedly in an angry voice. I was confused at this and stared back at them. I didn‘t get why he was so angry.
“Don’t go getting any ideas from them son! They are sinners who are against god, and they will go to hell! The bible teaches us that it was Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve! Do you understand me son”? He demanded loudly. So loudly that people started looking around.
“Okay dad”. I answered as he hurried us down the street.
I know now that he was trying to teach me to be homophobic, but back then I was just confused. I didn’t see anything wrong with two guys holding hands. I never have really. Looking back I think my dad was scared, not of the gay people, but of me. Not that I was a particularly scary ten year old but because even then I guess I was showing signs of being gay. This was and is his biggest fear, to have a gay son. My grandpa told me that when my mum was pregnant with me, my dad had really wanted a son! I guess this was understandable given the fact that he grew up in a house with his parents and five brothers. I don’t think he would have coped well with a daughter. So ever since I was born my dad has been trying to get me into sports, but I’ve always found it boring. I’m on the football team at school, but I just signed up to make him happy. I don’t really see the apeal of running around a muddy field at nine in the morning, but that’s just me.
That sort of thing happens a lot. My dad pushing me to do things I mean. My dad is all in one: My father, my disciplinary, my tutor, my coach and moral compass. I guess he doesn’t really have room for all the encouragement and love and things a real dad does. I’m kind of used to it now, but it used to really upset me when I was younger. I would see these other kids at sports days and class-presented assemblies and they would get hugs and praise from their dads and I would just be given a lecture on my faults and compared to my older brother. Oh yeah, did I mention I have a brother? No. I guess not. Anyway his name is Nick and he is training to be an army officer at sandhurst. I don’t agree with war, but my dad couldn’t be happier and says its gods will so I guess that’s what matters right? I can’t really say or do anything without my dad quoting the bible at me, still that’s catholic vicars for you.
