What 13-year-old Me wanted to hear

“Hello everyone! If you don’t know who I am, my name is Charlie and I’m the happy couple’s unwanted child,” I boasted at the start of my wedding speech. “Which means that as of today, I’m no longer a bastard!”

As a freshly out(ed) teen, I couldn’t conceptualise having numerous beautifully and wonderfully queer friends. Cammy was the only other LGBT+ person I knew,* and based upon the media narrative, I thought I was sentenced to a life as the token-gay. The idea that one day, I would stand on stage in a local bar, toasting the marriage of two most outlandishly Bi+ and Non-Binary people to have ever graced Yorkshire, was too far-removed.

Quenby and I met at our university’s Feminist Society. Quenby is undeniably unapologetic about who they are - at 20 years old, I wanted that energy to rub off on me and to exude that level of confidence in my own bi-/sexuality. For the next academic year, we decided to live together; the intensity of this created a bond that I can’t quite describe, as we  immersed ourselves in the local subculture of NSFW drag shows and lefty comedy nights. I like to think we formed this uniquely queer bond, in part, because we simultaneously mock and encourage each other. 

During our time as housemates, Quenby started dating Emily. One night, Emily came over to collect fresh undies for Quenby… In typical queer style, the two were practically living together after only a few months. Emily and I chatted all night and watched Gilmore Girls. It wasn’t long before we realised that we could quickly irritate Quenby through long (and somewhat detailed) conversations about which vampire from Buffy we’d have rail us. I embraced Emily into my chosen family with ease - there is no one I’d rather have my morning cuppa with, processing the difficult emotions that come with chronic health issues. 

In 2020, just two weeks before the first UK lockdown, I moved away from Yorkshire for a new job. New to an unfamiliar city, with no friends and little opportunity to explore. Quenby and Emily’s friendship kept me going with their regular video calls, sometimes talking to me for five hours. 

Since returning to Yorkshire last year, my friendship with Quenby and Emily has been a lifeline: Their home has become a welcome break from the realities of being 26, unemployed during a cost-of-living crisis, and living with my parents. Their sofa has a Charlie-shaped space perfectly moulded, right in the middle of the two. Now, any time I need, I can overstay my welcome at their house, eat all their food, and generally annoy them to the point of asking to see the return policy on our friendship.

Cammy and I have been friends for so long, I can’t pinpoint the first time we met, but I remember when we first saw each other after the pandemic, a moment seared on my heart for eternity. I’d been sitting in the bus terminal waiting for Cammy’s coach to arrive, eagerly anticipating their arrival. Of course, when two neurodivergent queers arrange a meet-up, it is inevitable that they will arrive at opposite ends of the venue. As I finally saw my dreary-eyed friend, fresh from a 14-hour journey from Norway, I felt I was in a Richard Curtis rom-com. I didn’t run - so much - into their arms, more of an excitable puppy hop towards them, to then land on top of them, before they had even set eyes on me. 

Had I actually been a puppy and this moment caught on camera, I’d have gone viral on TikTok. A little Yorkie bouncing along, a smile spread across my face, a little squeal escaping my lips, excitably leaping into the arms of a beloved owner. The reality is, onlookers probably thought I was perhaps a little deranged and - given the look of shock and horror Cammy gave in return - thought I’d ran to the wrong person. 

Not one for affection, Cammy patted my head as I squeezed the last breath from them, “Yep. This is great. Thanks. Can you get off me now?”

“You left me for Norway to live with your Viking partner, and then we had a pandemic. I need this.” And I nestled my head closer to their chest.

As teens, we had chosen each other and formed an unbreakable bond. We were both too-Bi and not-British-enough for our stuck-in-the-80s hometown. We’ve seen each other through those awkward teen years, and shared the obligatory Gen-Z emo phase (was it ever really “just a phase”?)

Pat, pat, pat. Cammy squirmed, “Are you done yet?”

There is only one reason why two metalheads travel to Sweden and it was one of the best nights of my life. I was with my best friend; we danced; I learned that I really don’t know song lyrics; and we were entertained by the couple in front of us (it was very clear he was a HUGE fan, and she’d paid the 1050 kr to “see what the big deal is''). All topped off with the pinnacle of skint-mid-20s nights out… spending four hours hanging around a bus terminal, waiting for the early morning coach home (well, in this case, to Cammy’s flat in Norway).

I don’t take for granted how fortunate I am to have a birth family who are nonchalant about my sexuality. However, I am eternally grateful for my chosen family. Cammy and I have always bickered, fighting with, and for, each other like siblings. When I referred to Quenby and Emily as my parents, it’s because they have always looked after me. 

My friends are chosen. I chose them because they are queer, like me. I chose them because I don’t have to answer silly questions like, “but how do lesbains have sex?” (I mean, it’s easier if I show you…) and, “how can you like boys? I thought you were bi?” (no, really, someone once asked me this). 

When I first realised that I’m Bi+, at the tender age of 13, I was scared that I would never find other LGBT+ friends. I wish I could share these anecdotes with my younger self, and say that Quenby, Emily and Cammy are just three from a plethora of fantastically, fabulously, fearlessly, queer people in my life. I am now in the proud position to say that I am not the token-gay, instead I have token-het friends. It is a glorious feeling! 

*Recently, people I’ve known for almost all my life have realised their LGBT+ identities, but this was not known when Cammy and I met.

NB: All friends mentioned have consented to this article and for their names to be used.