Tag: Gay Bars

True Stories: Confessions Of A Gay Man – Boyfriends

Published on by Hugh W. Roberts66 Comments

Wednesday 24th May, 1989.

‘I’ve grown wary of men over the last few weeks since that awful evening when Stephen told me he had got back with David. I still remember that smirk on David’s face as they held hands after announcing the news. It was that kind of smirk that I wanted to wipe off his face. How I resisted not punching him that evening, I’ve no idea.

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True Stories about living as a gay man.

My love life continues to cause me problems today when I bumped into Stephen again, and he asked, ‘Would I see him again?’ after telling me he’d made a dreadful mistake returning to David.

To say I was somewhat taken aback is an understatement. I was gobsmacked and didn’t know what to say. Ultimately, I asked if I could have some time to think about it. He’s handsome, but the fact that he went back to his partner over me rings alarm bells.

But worse was to come when Bob walked into Bromptons* tonight. Butterflies immediately started fluttering around my stomach.

Bob was with the guy I’d been hearing about. I’d heard rumours weeks ago that he was seeing somebody but didn’t believe them. Now I know that all I wanted was ‘NOT’ to believe them.

I don’t know who he is, but he looked miserable with Bob like he didn’t want any attention from him or, for that matter, anybody else in the bar.

So, here I sit tonight writing this entry, knowing that Stephen and I both seem to be heading for unhappiness. Stephen, because I’d be a fool going back with him (wouldn’t I?), and me? Because Bob completely ignored me. It’s as if the relationship we once had never happened. I still do not know why he ended what we had.’

*Bromptons was a gay bar in Earl’s Court, London.

Notes from the author.

That was the last entry in my diary from 1989. It was as if my life ended that day. But, of course, it didn’t. I simply stopped keeping a diary after that day, but I don’t know why.

As a very close friend from the time of this final diary entry once said to me – ‘There is no such thing as an ending. It’s just the point where we leave the story.’

After reading this entry, I’m still determining who Stephen is. I can’t remember him, but he obviously made an impression on me in the late 1980s.

Nor can I remember who the guy was with Bob.

However, I still remember Bob, what he looked like, how he talked, how he smiled, what he did for a living, and the address he was living at the time. I still remember what he wore the last time I saw him, what happened on our first date, and the first time our eyes met.

People enter and leave our lives daily. Some travel with us for a long time, whereas others swiftly cross our paths, never to be seen again. Do those who stay around and engage with us and who impact our lives do so for a reason? Do they protect us, warn us, guide us? Or do they enter our lives to put a stop to something?

Even though some people take us on journies to Hell and back when they enter our lives, those journies are probably life lessons that we should never forget. Unfortunately, we do because we end up making the same mistakes.

Fast forward to today, reading the diary entry took me back to my days as a young gay man living and working in London. What scares me more than anything is that I referred to Stephen going back to his partner as ‘alarm bells.’ Whereas I didn’t seem to think that alarm bells accompaned me when I started dating somebody who was already attached. Now I wonder how many people who entered my life back then heard those alarm bells.

At the time, London seemed like the safest place to live in the UK for a gay man. I felt a protective wall built around it kept us all safe. It was like a big comfort blanket. That’s why, in 1986, I chose to go and live there. But it wasn’t always safe. Nor was it always comfortable and protective.

Next month: – Jobs. Some jobs were easy – you could be yourself. But other jobs came with a warning if you were different.

If you enjoyed this entry, you may also enjoy reading, ‘True Stories: Gay Memories – The Day My Life Changed.’

Please feel free to ask me any questions by leaving me a comment.

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True Stories: Gay Memories – Meeting Another Gay Person For The First Time #LGBTQI #LGBT

Published on by Hugh W. Roberts48 Comments

At 17-years-old, I had no idea if I’d ever encountered another gay person. I probably had, but I lived during times when being out and gay could put your life in danger.

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Gay Memories

I had my suspicions about who I thought was gay, such as the bus driver who lived on the next street. Even though his bus wasn’t going in the direction I wanted, I’d ride around on it so I could see him and hoped he’d notice me.

There was one way I thought would guarantee me meeting gay people, but it meant breaking the law – a law I thought was stupid. What was wrong with a 17-year-old lad answering an advert in Gay News?

South Wales area – a genuine, nice guy in his early 40s, looking to meet other guys who haven’t come out yet. Maybe we could help each other? Write to Richard at Box 223D, Gay News, London…

Richard remained on my mind for a few weeks after reading the advert. Like me, he hadn’t ‘come out’ as gay. But unlike me, he was over the age of consent, 21, when sleeping with someone of the same sex was not illegal.

The constant bragging about which girls he had slept with from Michael, my best friend, eventually persuaded me to put pen to paper and respond to Richard’s advert. While Michael could sleep with as many girls as he wanted, I thought it unfair that it was illegal for me to meet and sleep with other guys.

I can’t remember what I said in my letter to Richard, but I lied about my age. I had to; otherwise, he may not respond. Or he could have reported me to the police. Fortunately, his advert did not mention sending a photo, so I didn’t have to prove I was 21.

It took me a week to post my reply. Every time I approached the postbox at the bottom of the street, police sirens would sound in my head.

The thought of Richard having my home address and turning up unannounced also terrified me. But the more Michael bragged about who he had slept with and questioned why I was still a virgin, the more courage I got. Finally, I posted the letter after convincing myself that I’d run away to London if Richard turned up. I’d be safe with so many other gay people living there.

A month later, not only had I not had a reply from Richard, but I’d also placed an advert in the lonelyhearts column of Gay News.

21-year-old gay guy looking to make new friends and meet his first boyfriend. Currently living in South Wales, but looking to live and work in London. Age/looks unimportant, but please send a photo. Write to Rob at Box D867, Gay News, London…

Two weeks after my advert appeared, I came home from work to find my mother holding an envelope.

“It’s for you. Whose handwriting is this? I don’t recognise it,” she examined.

Terrified that she was about to tear the letter open, I snatched it off her and ran upstairs, shouting that I’d got a new pen-pal. Fortunately, my mother knew that I had pen-pals and liked to write letters, although she had failed to notice that the stamp on the envelope was British, not foreign.

I was trembling at the thought that my mother could have forced me to come out of the closet had she opened the letter. I’d convinced myself that if the family found out I was gay, I’d be homeless.

Studying the envelope closely, I was too scared to open it and placed it in the same place I’d hid my copies of Gay News – under the carpet under my bed.

Two weeks later, as I climbed into the passenger seat of a car, I was greeted with the words ‘Hi, I’m Richard. I’m a little nervous, but it’s finally good to meet you, Hugh.”

I was meeting who I thought was the first gay person in my life.

But the following day, I would be threatened again with coming out of the closet.

“Who’s car did I see you getting into yesterday?” asked Michael.

Did you enjoy reading this post? Then you may also enjoy…

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True Stories: Gay Memories – Going To A Gay Bar For The First Time #LGBTQI #LGBT

Published on by Hugh W. Roberts70 Comments

As a gay man, you may be surprised to hear that one of the biggest hurdles I faced was going into a gay bar for the first time.

Image showing rain on windscreen of a car on a Saturday night with blurry lights in the distance
True Stories – Going To A Gay Bar For The First Time

At 17-years-old, I was in awe of my straight mates. They’d been wandering into bars and nightclubs for the last year with the only threat of getting asked for age identification.

At 17 years old, my straight mates were not only getting drunk most Friday and Saturday nights but were boasting about sleeping around with members of the opposite sex without any worry. Whether they’d slept with many of those they mentioned was open to debate.

At 17 years old, it was against the law for me to sleep with a person of the same sex. If I boasted about it, I could get myself into trouble. The law stated that, for my safety, sex remained on hold until I reached 21.

Of course, I overlooked that particular part of the law. Like any red-blooded male at 17, my hormones made my brain think of little else but wanting to (putting it mildly) get laid.

By the time I reached my 19th birthday, I already had what I had considered a boyfriend. He was over the age of 21 and thought I was too.

On one particular, wet Saturday evening, I found myself sitting in my boyfriend’s car. Holding hands with him, we listened to the patter of the rain on the roof as we watched the raindrops splatter on the windscreen. For weeks, we’d both built up the courage to go to a gay bar for the first time.

The bar was out of town and miles from where we lived. However, neither of us wanted to get out of the car and walk up the steps to the bar. Instead, we both sat there trying our best to peer through the spattering of rain, trying to make out the figures going into the bar.

“It’s nice and warm in here,” I said.

“Yeah, too wet to go outside,” responded my boyfriend.

For the next half an hour, we made an excuse after an excuse as to why we should stay in the car. Even though curiosity ran through our minds about what was on the other side of the doors to the gay bar, our bodies remained fixed to our seats while we continued peering at figures entering and exiting the bar.

“What if we bump into somebody in there who recognises us?” asked my boyfriend. “If there’s somebody in there from work, I could end up getting beaten up or sacked.”

Not only did those words cut me in half, but I began to worry that if the police raided the bar, my boyfriend and I would be in serious trouble because of my age.

Although at 19 years old, it wasn’t against the law for me to go into a bar, I questioned if it was against the law for me to hold hands with another man in a public place.

Terrified of the consequences of entering a world where people would have welcomed and accepted us for who we were, we drove off and went home. Hiding who we were and how we lived our lives seemed a much safer option.

It would be months later when I talked about that night again.

“If somebody you worked with had been in that bar, wouldn’t they have been as terrified as we were at being spotted?” I asked.

“I never thought of that,” came the reply. “But it’s still a risk, isn’t it?”

Six years later, as I made my way on a coach to a new life, I left behind a boyfriend who had been secretly sleeping with another man he worked with.

Have you ever been terrified to do something or go somewhere for the first time? Please share the details in the comments section or, even better, contact me about submitting your story as a guest post.

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