In a blog a week ago, my chum Sue Blackwell (not her real name) told me about a time she had psychotic episodes.
Yesterday, she told me: “There’s something I missed out. One of the embarrassing things I said at the time of that breakdown was I announced that I was gay.”
“Announced to whom?” I asked.
“I don’t know.,” said Sue. “I can’t remember. I do remember telling a workmate who had not been keen on me even seeing a psychiatrist.”
“Who else?” I asked.
“Well, not all and everybody. I don’t know. I told my daughter.”
“How did she take it?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“So you announced to people that you were gay,” I said, “but you weren’t?”
“Possibly not. I thought: Why did I say that?”
“You must know if you’re gay,” I said.
“Well, never say never,” said Sue. “I mean, perhaps it’s repressed or something. I dunno. The gay man I was living with at the time laughed.”
“How can people not know if they’re gay?” I asked. “I mean, if I were gay, surely at some point during the long decades I would have got a hard-on looking at some boy band on Top of the Pops?”
“It’s very odd,” said Sue.
“I call it queer,” I said.
“I think probably going to the barn dance was probably more embarrassing,” said Sue.