I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’m going to bet that most gay men remember very well the first time they were called a f*g.

For me, it was my sophomore year of high school, on the bus from the high school to Sadieville Elementary.

I have no idea why the asshole in the back of the bus singled me out.

I have no idea why it was just me.

I do know that it really all started when I bought a pair of L.L. Bean boat shoes.

Within two days of wearing them to school, the abuse started. Hey F*gmaster. Nice f*g shoes.

He was in the back seat. I was in the second seat from the front.
It was unrelenting.

I would sink into the seat, looking around. No one ever came to my defense. No one ever asked him to stop, including the bus driver. I would pray that it would only be him and that he wouldn’t decide to beat me up.

It always helped that the bus driver let those of us who lived in Sadieville proper, off at the train tracks at the bottom of the hill to save us a walk. I never got to experience this guy when he was getting off the bus.

What’s funny, is looking back I’m grateful it wasn’t worse. I skated under the radar for most people. If they knew they didn’t let on. I wasn’t teased at school. I wasn’t bullied. My parents were too busy doing their own shit to concern themselves with my sexuality.

40 years later, it isn’t so bad.

At the time, it was pretty awful.

When was the first time for you?