Gay!

Gay! He’s bloody gay! It was midnight and for the past two hours that was all that had been going through my head. That and You dickhead! It’s not like I was homophobic. I’d sussed that out in Pastoral Care last year. I was cool with it. I didn’t care what anyone did. As long as they didn’t try to come on to me.

But Mark played footy. Maybe if he didn’t and he was just in the musical, it would have made more sense. Because they were meant to sing and dance and stuff, weren’t they? I knew there were a couple of famous footy blokes who were gay, but Mark played football with Jock and Tim! Wait till they found out!

It wasn’t as if I didn’t have a right to be a little freaked out. I mean there I am and I don’t even know the guy, he’s giving me a lift home and he tells me he’s gay. Any normal bloke would feel just a little uncomfortable, wouldn’t they?

Just because he gave me a lift doesn’t mean anything. We were talking about Elizabeth. And he guessed I was interested, so it wasn’t as if he would have thought I was gay. No, no one would think that I was gay … would they? I mean, I didn’t look gay. Did I? I was in the musical, but I wasn’t performing. It was different when you were in the band. You were a muso and musos aren’t usually gay, the singers and the dancers are the gay ones. Not the girls, though; they’re always the hot ones.

What was I going to say to the bloke the next time I saw him? Hi, I’m Will Armstrong and I’m not gay? But then maybe that was why he cornered me in the first place. Then he had the perfect excuse to offer me a lift home. And then by bringing up Elizabeth he had the perfect way of figuring out if I was interested in him. Maybe he set up the whole thing to find out my sexual orientation. Maybe I was giving off mixed messages. Maybe, maybe, maybe … Shit, maybe he was right. Maybe I was gay!