The first time Gordon and I kissed I thought we’d made a terrible mistake. It was 1995, we were both 20 years old, and we were drinking at our university bar in Leicester. We had formed a friendship over the previous three years, but I had never considered Gordon in a romantic light. He was a goth at the time, which I thought was very cool, and he had this fruity, posh voice – whereas I was a timid girl from south London with a terrible perm. I remember Gordon leaning in to give me this very innocent, tentative kiss, but it caught me off guard. I felt excited but also confused. For one thing, I’d only ever known Gordon to kiss his fellow goths.
I avoided Gordon for weeks after that, which was difficult, considering we were on the same course. We bumped into each other almost every day in lectures but I made things awkward. Conversations between us didn’t flow in the same way. I’m an overthinker, whereas Gordon is much more relaxed. I think he would have been happy to keep kissing me in a casual sort of way and see where things led, but I was frightened of ruining our friendship. I was so shy at that time, and didn’t connect with people as easily as Gordon did. I had very deep feelings for him, but I wasn’t able to acknowledge them. Gordon was the closest person to me and I was terrified of losing him by having a fling.
