Life for gay youth in the Heartstopper universe is generally reasonable. The protagonists, Nick Nelson and Charlie Spring—Nick is bisexual, and Charlie is gay—find each other and become boyfriends despite elements of antigay prejudice that linger. They initially feel the need for discretion in their relationship. Naturally, they yearn for privacy also. The scene where Nick’s mum walked in on them as they got close and personal in Nick’s room illustrated the point. It made me think of what life was like for me as a young gay man in the 1980s. I was a student at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario, Canada, in the first half of the 1980s. It was the height of the AIDS crisis, and gay men were the most affected. There was a moral panic; people did not know for sure how HIV was transmitted and feared exposure to the virus. It was seen as a gay plague, something that gay men brought on themselves for their unprincipled ways. Trust me, it was not a good time to be a gay man. Discretion was necessary because the consequences would be dire if you were outed.
In the summer of 1987, I lived with my boyfriend Fabio in a two-bedroom apartment in Kingston, Ontario. We met as students at Queen’s University and secretly carried on our love affair before moving in together. We became boyfriends during the burgeoning AIDS crisis. One evening, we sat in bed and watched a panel discussion held by one of the American News Networks–I cannot remember which one. What struck me was the inflammatory opening remark made by a conservative Congressman, whose name I do not remember, who asserted that “perversion and promiscuity” were to blame for the AIDS crisis. That sentiment was shared through the 1980s. I remember the stand-up comic Sam Kinison, who screamed in one of his routines that AIDS became an epidemic “because a few fags fuck some monkeys; they got tired of their own assholes.” Jerry Falwell claimed it was God’s judgement on homosexuals and blamed the spread of the disease into the innocent heterosexual population on bisexual men. Yes, AIDS was seen as a gay plague. Fabio and I, like countless gay men in the 1980s, were concerned. There was uncertainty about how easily the virus was transmitted. Before the dawn of the AIDS crisis, our biggest concern as students in the 1980s was the risk of an unwanted pregnancy or getting herpes.
I hesitated on whether I was a homosexual or not through the 1980s. I experienced same-sex attraction, but the pressure to conform, to be heterosexual was pronounced. I was in university from the early to mid-1980s, and plenty of young women were around me. I dated a few and had sex with two, but nothing developed between us. Eventually, I had a short-lived love affair with another man, Mike, a fellow student. It ended badly, but undaunted, I continued dating men until I met a man, Fabio, and we moved into a two-bedroom apartment together. Yes, we had to keep up appearances to rent an apartment. As far as our landlords knew, we were two students sharing a flat. We lived together for a year and parted following our graduation. He became a flight attendant with Air Canada, and I went to graduate school. We maintained our relationship for several months this way until he left me for another man. The breakup was hard for me, and I decided that I would try to be heterosexual.
I met and befriended a handsome young man my age at work. Pierre and I spent a lot of time together. We went to nightclubs looking to meet women. One night, we met two young women, one of whom was quite drunk. Pierre and the drunken young lady hit it off. Her friend and chaperone and I had a pleasant conversation. At the night’s end, I offered the ladies a ride home with Pierre and me. They accepted. On the drive to their apartment building, Pierre and his date made out in the back seat. It made me jealous, and I drew her friend’s attention out of pettiness. She put a stop to it. Later, at Pierre’s flat, I stayed at his place often after these late nights out; as I settled into bed in his spare room, I reached out impulsively and touched his hand. He was startled and sat up abruptly and then retired to his room. I got the message, and we never mentioned the incident.
Still, I remember the morning we went for breakfast when he grinned shyly and told me he had something to say. My heart leapt as I imagined he would confess that he was gay and had feelings for me. Instead, he told me that he had his first sex with a woman the night before–oh, the disappointment. Thus, the moral of this anecdote is that whether you are a homosexual or heterosexual man, you can expect a bumpy ride in your affairs of the heart. But above all else, you should remain true to yourself. Deception is never the best policy, least of all in matters of the heart.
Geoffrey & Mika 