Is it disturbing that now I find straight people – particularly straight men – extremely irrelevant to my life? Whatever happened to my staunch avowal that I would never become one of those gay men who look insularly into their own community. Looking at all those photographs from blogs of my old schoolmates – in clubs, in restaurants, at the beach: I feel strangely disconnected from their normality. No one ever points to them and shouts ‘faggot’, no one ever questions their (sensible) t-shirts and ties, or their sexy halter tops and miniskirts. It’s all so – damn – normal.
I’ve always craved, in part, for that. Now in my interaction with friends from so long ago, it’s hard to share with them gay things: we move in totally different spheres. They have Zouk, I have St James on Sunday. They have Quiksilver, I have Instant Karma. They have Byford, I have Calvin Klein. It’s just like there’s this insuperable wall between us, a wall of fashion magazines, airy pop music and branded clothes.