Not so pretty in pink...
Being gay…it’s not all perfect hair, amazing abs and a group of girls laughing at your great jokes.
I used to watch those rose tinted films that portrayed a not so perfect but accepting world where the shy, quiet, eccentric, colourful gay protagonist won the hearts and minds of the locals. They set in motion a change in their world, in their own rainbow coloured way. I watched them and wondered why wasn’t my life soundtracked by Donna Summers and Gloria Estefan. A little old school maybe Carly Rae Jepson.
Instead I had the messy attempts at relationships. The tears, the silence and weirdness. Then it hit me, cinema is all about iconography and mise-en-scene. All the crazy, scary and messy moments don’t look good on camera. Have you actually seen someone cry, it’s not pretty. Kissing isn’t great up close. Sex is just messy. This may explain why once you’ve had sex with someone it changes everything. There is no going back after that. Oh you can say it’s all good but in those moments you have made yourself completely vulnerable to that person. They say during sex you are your most beautiful, ugly, strong, weak and everything between. Hence why the French call an orgasm ‘a petite mort’ (a little death).
I digress as usual. Back to the point in hand, no pun intended.
So imagine having to deal with all those crazy chemicals flooding your body. Growing hair in places you know realistically it shouldn’t grow. Mood swings. Growth spurts. All the joys of puberty. Imagine all that and knowing some thing about you is different. You don’t quite know what it is that makes you so different, until you have that moment. The first kiss and it hits you like Miley Cyrus coming through your bedroom wall. Then the other thoughts and feelings come blowing in through the newly formed opening.
What they don’t tell you is what to do next. Who the person you should be. One simple reason. Only you can be you. It’s taken me 29 years to finally be comfortable and proud of myself. It’s taken hard work, long nights, tears, tantrums and more diva fits than Mariah could shake her golden curls at. Out of the other side appears someone who matters.
When you are gay it’s almost like you have to fit inside a certain mould. This mould is not of your creation. This is others placing you in a position they are comfortable with. Yes this blog is a bit gay biased but I think this is true for everyone. It’s nice fitting into society and knowing you have a place. That place however should be your own. Personally I’m no Gok but you will catch my checking myself out in the mirror… several times before I go out. I like to ride my bike, play tennis but you’ll also find me singing along to Moulin Rouge in the shower.
Don’t be pretty in pink if you want to be on a rugby pitch getting dirty. If people care so much they really aren’t worth your time. I look around me and no-one I know is any type of stereotype. I know straight guys I steal style tips from, straight girls who would destroy me on a hockey pitch, grandmothers who put me through my paces at the gym and a gay guy who could literally kill you with his bare hands (trained in various martial arts).
Stereotyping is not the smartest thing. I’ve done it, more often than I should. Going forward it’s all going out the window. I’ll let people surprise me.
I’m Jean-Junior and I don’t have a type. ;o)