A LGBT Community History Project

Contact Us









I got my first boyfriend at 11 years old and went out with boys throughout my adolescence. I was always attracted to feminine men and the New Romantic movement feminised every pop star with make-up and flounces. David Sylvian of Japan and Adam Ant were my pin ups.

Then my best friends started having sex with their boyfriends only they didn't confide in me. Apparently they talked to each other about contraceptives but they never spoke to me. I became a diligent student spending evenings and weekends revising for 'A' levels whilst my friends went drinking and copping off. The Cocteau Twins and Siouxsie and The Banshees were singing about my dark and tortured soul. And then the special girl from my class left and I was bereft - I knew I fancied her but how could it ever happen now?

The opportunity arose through the school prize giving when she came back to collect her 'O' level certificates. It was a Thursday and Sainsbury's stayed open until 8pm. Although my Mum never went late night shopping on this particular Thursday she decided she would. We had the house to ourselves. We sat on my bed sipping Drambuie sneaked from the Christmas drink cupboard and listened to Cafe Bleu. The exact details are thankfully hazy but I know I couldn't bear the physical tension and I think I asked her if she would mind if I kissed her. I remember laying on top of her and kissing the softest mouth I'd ever touched and for the briefest of moments the sheer elation borne of 5 years waiting. But then I remember the terror and panic. I was trembling and asking her over and over, "What have we done?". This kiss made us lesbians.

She however seemed far more relaxed about the whole thing - I should have known there and then I was an experiment.

We met up infrequently after that - I even drove to her boarding school for a clandestine handhold under the covers. I'd now read Marilyn French and discovered feminism and couldn't wait to escape suburbia for Manchester where my brother mixed with Marxists and homosexuals!

That last year at home I took the train north to sleep with women and confided in just one girl at school who sportingly agreed to accompany me to the London Lesbian and Gay Centre - the only gay venue I knew. Predictably on that first timid outing it was my pretty friend who got chatted up by an older woman not me.

My first love called me about a year later when I was living an openly lesbian life at university in Manchester. She wanted to talk but it was my turn to spurn her and I threw down the receiver with gusto.

I Googled her the other month - she's a GP in London now - I'd love to think that she'd Googled me - but I doubt it.

© Copyright OurStory Liverpool