I wasn’t always gay you know. Well, that’s not technically true. My mother always says she knew I was a homosexual from birth. Apparently, I came out doing cartwheels and singing songs from Phantom of the Opera.
Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating that slightly but you get the gist. Another giveaway was probably stealing my sister’s dolls and then crying when she wouldn’t let us take it in turns to push the doll’s pram.
But I’ve digressed here. Gone off the beaten track. Pardon the pun. Where was I? Oh yes, I’d just made the slightly untrue statement that I wasn’t always gay. What is more truthful to say, is that I wasn’t always out to the world.
And I did that old trick that I’m sure all gay boys are guilty of, especially from my era of the 1980s and 1990s. I pretended that I was bisexual because, to me, it made it seem less scary than saying, ‘Hey I’m a fully fledged 100% penis loving homosexual!’
So in my quest to prove I wasn’t a fully fledged homo and only a Bi, I decided that I would have to try a girl out for size.
I used to steal copies of The Daily Sport from the local newsagent. I was a paperboy in my youth you know. I don’t for the life of me know why I stole The Daily Sport.
Well, I do actually. I was still pretending not to be a pouf. So I thought stealing a paper that had tits in it made me look like a hard man to the boys on my estate. But all I was really doing was trying to impress the boys because I was fantasising about them!
I’ve kissed quite a few girls in my time, I’ll have you know. It was easy to stick your tongue down their throats. I just pretended it was our postman who I fancied or my P.E. teacher. My P.E. teacher, OH MY DAYS, I can still remember his face now.
He was a beautiful man. And he was the reason I could never stand up straight in a pair of shorts during my school years. Every time I saw him, I got a stonking great hard on and had to do my best impression of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame to hide it.
After a while though, the girls I were kissing weren’t just happy with a snog anymore. We were 16 now and they wanted something other than my tongue inside them. ‘Oh god’, I thought. ‘What was I do?’, I may have kissed them. But never had I felt a hard-on as a result.
My first attempt at sexual intercourse was with a girl called Tina. I remember it like it was yesterday. I’d sprinkled rose petals all over the bed in my attempt to make it romantic. Yes, I know.
Rose petals.
Sheer cheese.
I’d watched too many episodes of The Bold and the Beautiful during the 1990s.
And, not surprisingly, it also had an ending like a melodramatic soap opera. We kissed. She got naked on the bed. And then I whipped my clothes off and whapped a condom on.
Yes, I managed to get hard! I thank the Lord for my vivid imagination. Because that was not Tina on the bed. It was Tinhead from Brookside.
Just as I was about to make my MARK, (yes, pun intended), Tinhead, sorry I mean Tina, grabbed my arm and pushed me off.
“I’m sorry! I can’t do it with you. I’m a lesbian!” Oh, the irony.
My next attempt at proving my bisexuality was with a girl called Hayley. We went camping together. My first time with a girl, under the stars, in a tent, out in a field. I thought this would be so romantic.
“As I toasted a marshmallow over the campfire for her, I felt her hand caress my thigh. I was nearly as soft and gooey as the marshmallow but along came my vivid imagination once more.
“And, as if by magic, Hayley was Hunter from Gladiators“.
Mini Mark was poised, raised and ready for action. I felt Hayley undo my flies. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. If a girl touches my penis, I’ll be scarred for life, I told myself.
To stop her wandering hands, and to take her attention away from my penis, I got two fingers and put them up her skirt. I heard her groan, but meanwhile, I was trying to stop myself from gagging.
I felt like I was prodding a raw fillet steak and to this day, I always have to have my meat well cooked. My bisexual days were over.
100% Gay man had been erected. Pun intended.
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