W

hen journalist Josephine Sargent transferred to Sydney for an editing job, she ended up being thrown inside strong conclusion of sexual variety.

THE TELEPHONE rang. It absolutely was my personal mum.

Mum: Hello darling. Your own aunty merely rang. She watched you regarding the news.

Josephine: Truly? Yay!

Mum: In a bikini. Rehearsing for this lgbt parade on Bondi coastline.

Josephine: Yep. Mardi Gras.

Mum: She asked if you are homosexual…

They were baffled. Exactly why would we be marching in Mardi Gras easily was not a lesbian? I found myself puzzled. If I happened to be, the reason why would I allow the chips to figure out through the 6 o’clock news?

It is not that my family is homophobic. It’s not they are hateful. They might be only ignorant. As I used to be.

Before I relocated from Brisbane to Sydney in 2008, I would never really had any homosexual friends. In fact, Really don’t believe We previously met anyone that was actually homosexual. Or that we realized had been homosexual, in any event. My comprehension of homosexual folks originated in television: that enthusiastic and frantic group from

Queer Eye your Right Guy

whom cherished to dispose off garments and tut over poor hair; that irritating buddy of Carrie’s in

moms looking for sex and also the City

; George Michael begging us to wake him upwards before we go, get as he danced around within his little, instead sidetracking, white short pants. These were extravagant and brash and deafening and extremely, extremely camp.

For this reason I was perplexed as I gone to live in Sydney and quizzed my new associate, who had been nothing of those things, about his relocation from European countries.

Josephine: So is your partner Australian?

Him: Err, no. I’m not hitched.

Josephine: Oh, correct. Are you experiencing children here?

Him: Err, no. No children.

It was not until a few weeks later, and after a lot of schooners, that penny fell. He had been waxing lyrical about a brand new online dating application he’d began using, which showed the proximity of qualified associates. Previously interesting, we snatched their telephone for a closer look. All I could see were thumbnails of six packages and half-naked male bodies stretched across beach towels.

Josephine: This looks a bit… gay.

Him: Yes.

Josephine: Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh…

Then, it was an avalanche. I found myself buried in gays. We worked with them. We worked out using them. We consumed with each other in Surry Hills. We grinded against each other in Midnight change.

Nevertheless, I experienced trouble determining another person’s sexuality. One night, I was having a beer with Amy, the beginning publisher of

Archer –

long before she ended up being editor of an intimate diversity log, and shacked with an attractive girl. Amy cannot remain late, she stated, because she was actually driving an ex towards airport.

Josephine: Oh, where’s the guy heading?

Amy: She Is transferring to London.

Josephine: who’s?

Amy: My ex.

Josephine: She?

Amy: Yes.

Josephine: nevertheless’ve had gotten a boyfriend.

Amy: Yes.

Josephine: Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh…

I possibly could never truly blame my personal bad aunty for jumping to results. I had gay buddies nevertheless couldn’t figure it. And, become reasonable, I became marching in Mardi Gras and receiving around on a Honda 400cc, and I also had not had a date in about 22 months (even though finally had much more regarding Sydney’s notorious single-man shortage, much less regarding any newfound lesbianism).

But provided the things I know now – and that I’ve learnt a large number – there’s only one way to avoid distress. Think most people are gay until proven otherwise.

Text by Josephine Sargent

Image by Amy Middleton