Sitting on the Bakerloo line, heading to visit my nana, I glanced nervously at the stranger directly across from me. He was Black, masculine, with dark brown eyes and a cute smile; he was, in short, totally gorgeous. And I couldn’t help but look at him occasionally as he read the newspaper. Then suddenly, we locked eyes, and I looked away sheepishly. I didn’t know it then, but that one look would lead to a date I would never forget.
This happened back in 2003 when I was 17 and still coming to terms with my sexuality. I’d always imagined I’d end up with a woman; during puberty, I thought about girls and had a girlfriend. But around the age of 15, I developed a crush on one of my mates; it felt weird, and I was honestly scared. Although my mum wasn’t religious, I’d been sent to a Catholic school for its ‘good performance,’ and the religion had made its way into my head. For about three years, I used to pray every night to make the thoughts go away and make me straight.
Growing up, I’d always been heavily bullied. The boys in my school took the mick out of me for being ginger, and kids on my estate spat at me and beat me up. I regularly had girls and other family members call me ugly. One day, I told Mum that I was fed up with being a redhead. She told me that other kids were ‘just jealous of my hair’ (I hated that excuse). I asked her, ‘Mum, would you ever date a redhead?’ ‘No darling,’ she responded, ‘but someone will.’ I was never bullied for being gay, though. No one ever pulled me up on that, nor were there rumours. But I knew deep down that once people knew I was gay, the bullying would get a whole lot worse.
So, How Did It Go? is a weekly Metro.co.uk series that will make you cringe with second-hand embarrassment or ooze with jealousy as people share their worst and best date stories. Want to spill the beans about your own awkward encounter or love story? Contact jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
There was one occasion on which my mum suspected me of being gay, when I cut out some images from a Littlewood’s catalogue of the men’s swimwear collection! But it didn’t go down well, and I ended up promising her I wasn’t gay. I remained firmly in the closet – until that fateful day in June 2003.
Pulling into Baker Street station, my handsome stranger and I stepped off the train, and, to my surprise, he approached me. I was really anxious – perhaps he was angry that I had looked at him and wanted to start a fight. ‘I don’t usually do this, but are you gay?’ he asked. My heart jumped. ‘Kinda…’ I replied hesitantly. He said, ‘Cool’ and asked if I wanted to chat for a bit.
We sat on a bench on the Circle line platform and talked for 15 minutes. I learned that he was 19, working at a florist in Woolwich, and that he was in Baker Street to go to a friend’s house and play PlayStation. Yet he now had other ideas. He asked if I wanted to ditch our plans and go on an ad hoc date. This was the first time someone had ever approached me romantically. I can’t tell you how much it meant for someone to actually want to go out with me. I felt a rush of adrenaline that mixed up feelings of excitement and anxiety. He suggested we go to the Trocadero on Shaftesbury Avenue, where we spent hours playing at the arcade. We watched some talented guys on the Dance Revolution, and I failed miserably when we had a go. We went on Need for Speed and Tekken before doing some bowling. It just felt great, natural, like we had been mates for a long time. Not having been the most popular kid, I’d never had a hang-out like this, let alone a date.
From there, we went to the cinema in Leicester Square to watch Hulk. It wasn’t my top choice, but I didn’t care; I was having such a great time. We held hands during the movie, and to top it all off, I even had my first kiss with him. I couldn’t believe what was happening; what on earth did he see in me? We swapped numbers and headed home, my head in the clouds. I can’t tell you how much it meant for someone to actually want to go out with me.
In the days that followed, we texted relentlessly. I don’t think I’d ever texted anyone as much as him before – I was constantly heading back and forth to the cornershop to top up my one2one balance! Soon enough, he asked me to be his boyfriend. I was over the moon and of course, I said yes! My first ever boyfriend – my first ever proper partner. I felt elated, but I also had a lingering fear deep down: I was still very scared about my sexuality.
One night, a few weeks later, I saw a protest about gay people on TV. People had banners and placards with bible quotes on them, including Leviticus, which I looked up in my bible. The passage read: ‘If a man lies with a man as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them’. That was it – I knew I was going to hell. I cried myself to sleep that night, and I also smashed up and threw my phone away. I thought I had to cut any connection with my boyfriend.
To distract myself from the pain, I focused on school and my A-levels, and working my arse off all summer at Marks & Spencer. A colleague asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I ended up telling her about this ‘girl’ I liked but lost touch with – the story of my date but adapted to take the gay away! I couldn’t stop thinking of him, my sexuality, and the potential conflict that would happen when it all came out. I tried to imagine myself with a wife and kids, convincing myself that is what my future would be like.
Seven months later, my mum found out that I was gay. I’d been tearful and anxious; I couldn’t concentrate on anything and she knew something was up, but I told her I was fine, that it was ‘probably hormones and puberty’. I’m not sure how she found out, but I came home from school to find a letter on my chair. I don’t remember much of it, except the line ‘this ugly monster is rearing its head’. I knew that she meant my sexuality. I panicked and decided to run away from home; when I returned a month later, I sat down to a difficult conversation with Mum, and she told me it was best that I leave. If you are our author’s ex-boyfriend, please reach out to jess.austin@metro.co.uk as he would love to hear from you.
That time was one of the most difficult I’ve experienced in my life; I was ostracized and berated by my family. But I also had a sense of relief. Now that I was out, I didn’t have to hide anymore. It was as if all the conflict I had inside disappeared, but now I was in conflict with those around me who disagreed. When I threw my phone away, I lost the only way to communicate with my ex. This was in the days before social media, so I had no other contact details for him. I took a couple of trips to Woolwich, wandering around the town hoping I’d find him in a florist or bump into him. I never saw him again.
My early twenties were really difficult. I felt incredibly alone and struggled with relationships and living independently. After getting into a violent and controlling relationship that pushed me to suicidality, I looked through my phone and realised I had no one to talk to. I decided to call the Samaritans. I spoke to a lady for a while, telling her my story and how alone I felt. She asked me what I would do if I could do anything in the future, and I said I’d make sure other young guys like me don’t feel so alone. She asked some more questions about how I might do that, and the conversation made me realise I wanted to enrol in university, and study psychology.
It wasn’t until my late 20s that I truly came to terms with the traumas I’d experienced in childhood and early adulthood. By 30, I had finally fully accepted myself, and felt comfortable in my skin and appearance. I earn £1,568 a month but rely on benefits – they’re not enough Three gay men ‘hunted by pack of men with knives’ in a park I thought I’d met the man of my dreams until our honeymoon I wasn’t allowed to go to my dad’s funeral just because I’m a woman.
Even after all these years, however, I still feel guilty for the way I treated my Underground First Date. I was struggling, but that was no excuse for ghosting him. Over the years, I have often wished I could say sorry, and I’ve wondered what happened to him, and where his life ended up. One thing is for sure, though: our date was pivotal in me coming to terms with my sexuality. He brought me hope for the future and made me realise that some people find me attractive, are interested in getting to know me, or even date me. And though I will always wonder, ‘What if?’, I’ll treasure that memory forever.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. Share your views in the comments below.
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