My name is Dominic Jones and my story begins a few weeks after my twenty-first birthday. Looking back, I think I first realised I was gay when I was thirteen years old, but I don't think I fully understood what that meant until I was about sixteen. During the last five years, or so, I've done a lot of soul searching, but have yet to accept being gay and I still haven't told anybody about it. I haven't even met another gay man that I am aware of. I have decided to write about my life in the hope of juggling all my thoughts in a more logical way. Maybe this way, I will finally be able to pluck up the courage to be who I really am in the world.
Late April in Newcastle, in the North-East of England, usually means one thing for me. It's coming to the end of the football season and my team are fitting tooth and nail for those final precious points to end the season on a high. I'm a Newcastle United fan; always have been, always will be.
My dad started taking me to the United games when I was four, or five years old. This family tradition carried on, more or less, for every home game for around a decade and a half up until the end of last season. I say family tradition, but really it was just me and my dad from my immediate family, plus a couple of male cousins and uncles.
My mum have never joined us for the football matches, either in person, or on the television. She was only nineteen when I was born and my dad is a four years older than her. They both left school with no qualifications, but have worked very hard to provide our family with solid security and as many treats as they can afford for me, my brother and my sister.
Max, my brother, is four years younger than me and never caught the football bug. He's more a fan of hard rock and metal music, or I often say to him crap music. It's all screaming in my opinion and a mile away from the music I like. I've got plenty of camp stuff hidden away under my bed.
My sister, Abbie, is fourteen. We don't have much in common, but we're still very close. She's the little princess of the family; a real daddy's-little-girl and the apple-of-my-mum's-eye. She's very much into Disney and chatting to her school mates online; a sheer contrast to the football, football, football culture that I lived in at her age.
Me and dad don't go to the football games together any more. It does bother me that the family tradition seems to be over. There's endless football on the television to get my fix, but the true reason I don't go any more is because me and my dad have drifted apart. We never really spoke about it; we just stopped going to the games and neither party protested. We were never close outside of the football world anyway.
In fact, I've pulled away a lot from all my family recently. I moved into my own flat a few months back about a thirty minute walk from where I grew up and the rest of my family still live. It's a decent bed-sit; nothing to shout about but it does the job.
“Why are you moving out?” my mum said to me when I first told her.
“Well, I'm earning decent money now, mum, so I thought it was about time I got my own place. I am almost twenty-one and I can't live here forever.”
“Good for you. But I do think it's about time you got a girlfriend, Dominic. You'll get lonely on your own. I was nineteen when you were born and had been going out with your dad for a few years by then. You're older than that and there's not a girl in sight.”
“My love life is none of your business!” I replied aggressively.
That was very common of me. To abruptly end awkward conversations by saying something defensive, or nasty to the person annoying me. I'm constantly full of worry and confusion and use this as a defense mechanism to try and stop the truth coming out.
Even after several years, gay still sounds a bit weird for me to say, or write. It's like a whole new identity that I discovered in myself one day that I have absolutely no control over. I went from not being attracted to anybody, to wondering why I wasn't attracted to one of the many girls surrounding me every day at school to, oh my god, I'm gay.
To be honest, I wasn't happy with the discovery at all. Actually, devastated is a more appropriate phrase; utterly devastated. I didn't want to be gay; I still don't. But I've done my research and, I guess, I don't have no choice. I've heard of some weird therapy that can apparently fix guys to becoming straight, but it sounds too good to be true, or bollocks is probably a better way of summarizing it.
I am still a virgin and have never even been kissed. I've been attracted to a few guys. The attraction does feel normal. I think I fully understand what a good-looking guy looks like. The only pleasure I get though is on my own. I look at gay photos and videos online practically every day; making sure I delete the history afterwards. I used to delete them because my brother and sister often borrowed my computer, as they didn't have ones of their own. Surprisingly, I still delete the history even though I'm now living on my own. I suppose I don't want to take the risk in case someone comes round and needs to use my computer; not that I get many visitors.
My self-confidence has been shot by being gay. I feel ugly inside and out. I don't know how to portray myself in public any more, so certainly have no idea how to go about meeting guys. I've no-one to talk to for advice. None of my family know the truth, or any of my friends. I feel alone and confused. Whenever my mum asks me if I've got a girlfriend yet, or any one else does for that matter, I make some lame excuse. I feel like I'm climbing more and more into the closet.
I've been brought up not to lie, but I certainly don't want to be caught in a trap by saying I have a girlfriend and then messing up. I'm building up to telling people; I just don't know how to. I've been online for coming-out advice and there is plenty out there. There's a lot more gay people out there than I expected; apparently around one in ten blokes. That makes me feel less of a freak.
I was in a large social group of sporty lads back in school. About thirty of us and we played football more or less every lunch time and sometimes after school, or at the weekend. Surely, at least someone else from that group is gay now; I often wonder who. There was a lot of fit guys in our group, but I wouldn't care which of them was gay; they were all decent lads. But I haven't kept in touch with any of them. My wallowing in self-pity has ruled out staying in touch with them.
I just wish I had another gay person to talk to. I'm almost certain I have unconditional love from my mum, brother and sister and even from my dad too, in his old-fashioned kind of way. I can't recall him ever saying he loved me, but I'm sure he does deep down.
But, I'm not so sure I would still have that unconditional love if I told them I was queer. I think my brother and sister maybe slightly to young to understand it. I don't think my mum or dad know any gay people either. Maybe they do, but they have never mentioned any to me. I really don't know how they will all react if I pluck up the courage to tell them.
I've had my suspicions about one of uncles for a few years. He's a good few years older than me and I've never heard about any girlfriend of his. He's sensitive, defensive and can be aggressive; very like me.