Jason was a couple of years older than I, and as camp as a row of tents.
While I had been burrowing deep in my closet of shame, he had been marching to create a society where I could emerge when I wanted to.
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his efforts – my ‘coming out’ had been relatively painless – but he conformed to every gay stereotype, short of arriving for our date in full Tom-of-Finland regalia.
Cargo pants and a too-tight, white T-shirt were however, as much of a uniform, he even had the moustache.
Still, he was good company, so I invited him back for a nightcap.