Lil OBrien - Not That Id Kiss a Girl: A memoir of coming out and coming-of-age

First published in 2020

Text Lil OBrien, 2020

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

Allen & Unwin

Level 2, 10 College Hill, Freemans Bay

Auckland 1011, New Zealand

Phone: (64 9) 377 3800

Email:

Web: www.allenandunwin.co.nz

83 Alexander Street

Crows Nest NSW 2065, Australia

Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand.

ISBN 978 1 98854 758 9

eISBN 978 1 76087 464 3

The poem reproduced on is James Michies 1969 translation of Catullus 85 by Gaius Valerius Catullus.

The quotation on is often attributed to the late Anas Nin, but has not been found in her work. Authorship has been claimed by Elizabeth Appell, among others.

Design by Megan van Staden

To all the queer kids,

who are exactly who they were meant to be

This book is memoir, and reflects my current recollections of experiences from the past. Some names and details have been changed to protect privacy, and some dialogue has been re-created. There will no doubt be some errors in my remembering, for which I can only apologise. Know that if you are in the book, you have been hugely important to my life.

I stood on the side of the dark road, looking back down the hill to the lights of my family home.

Well, fuck, I said, juggling my laptop and the few other possessions Id managed to grab in my hasty exit.

Hearing my voice out loud somehow made me feel a little better, breaking me out of my shock enough to search my pockets. Finally my fingers found the familiar shape of my phone, and a spike of panic receded.

I flipped it open and scrolled through to JACK CELL, then typed out a message, my fingers clumsy on the buttons.

UM, YOULL NEVER GUESS WOT JST HAPPENED

Forty minutes later, I heard the roar of my best friend Jacks muffler bouncing off the cliffs that leaned over the narrow road. As he rounded the last corner I recognised our favourite song, Nellys Ride wit Me, blaring from the open windows of his souped-up 1986 hatchback. Hed saved up for it by working after school and weekends at the Mobil station up the road from his house, and it was his pride and joy. It had tinted windows, an aftermarket exhaust and a police radar to avoid speeding tickets. I took the piss out of him about being a bogan every time I saw it. But maybe not this time. This time he was my knight in a shining white Mazda Familia 323 GT.

Jack pulled a U-turn and turned down the stereo as he stopped the car, then leaned over to peer at me through the open passenger window.

Mate, what the fuck?

It was the Easter holidays, and my mid-semester break from university. The evening had started out ordinarily enough. Mum would always cook one of my favourite meals when I came home from uni for the holidaysso dinner that night might have been a leg of lamb with roast potatoes, or a piece of eye fillet with oven fries. Maybe even a fried egg for Dad too, as a treat. I can imagine him now: Good old steak, eggs and chips. Goody goody. He would rub his hands together exaggeratedly, hunch his shoulders and grin at me. Dad loved Mums cooking, even when she overcooked the meat or double-salted the broccoli.

After dinner, still hungover from a big night out, I flopped on the couch and buried my nose in a book, hoping to be left alone.

Lilly? Lil. Lilly, Im talking to you!

What?

Id ignored Mum for as long as possible, my irritation with her incessant chatter growing.

Im asking you whether you want to go into town tomorrow. I want to look at shoes but you could pick out a new T-shirt and pants. Or we could go to Farmers first, get some basics

I zoned out again.

Lilly

Mum, Im trying to read, okay. Can we decide tomorrow?

There was a pause. More like youre hungover. I heard you clomping around at three a.m. this morning, Mum said.

I sighed. Here we go.

I thought I was pretty quiet, all things considered, I said.

Mum huffed. You cant drink like that forever, you know.

Mum, Im nineteen. Im in my drinking prime, I replied with a grin.

I was a third-year student at the University of Otago, its campus in the southern New Zealand city of Dunedin. The university was known for its drinking culture more than anything else, and I had embraced that wholeheartedly. I travelled back to my parents house every semester break, something that at nineteen I was still young enough to describe as going home. Home, to a seaside suburb in a South Island city where Id grown up. Home, to Mums cooking and her soft towels and to my younger sister, Jenny, and to my dad, and our fluffy cat. Although I enjoyed those familiar comforts, my priority during the holidays was to go out drinking with Jack. Wed gather with his ragtag gang of buddies at someones house to smoke darbs and pre-loadhim with a twelve-pack of Flame beer, me with a $7.30 bottle of Aquila sparkling wine. Then wed hit town, squeezing into packed bars, ordering two-for-one Mudslide Shakers or shots of shitty tequila, or Quick Fucks if we didnt want to be quite so hardcore. The combination of Kahla, Midori and Baileys looked cool and didnt taste half-bad either. Around 2 a.m. I would usually slip away from my friends unnoticed, avoiding the inevitable Stayyyyy, Lilly, just half an hour longer, staayyyyy. Id fling myself into a taxi, which would drive me the $60 journey home and was paid for with Dads taxi charge card.

Have you thought about what youre going to do when you finish university, Lilly? my dad chipped in from behind his newspaper.

I sighed. Dad, cmon. Its Sunday, can we just relax and not get into my career prospects today?

It doesnt hurt to plan aheadwere not going to financially support you forever, Dad said.

No, Mum seconded knowingly, sending a plume of steam shooting up from her iron.

I know that!

You only have one full semester left, Dad said, stating the obvious.

I didnt know why they couldnt just chill about this topic. With the confidence of someone whod never had to worry about money, I knew I would figure it out when the time came. With my parents there as a safety net.

Seriously, can you guys just leave me alone, I said, putting my book down and preparing to leave the lounge. I dont need you giving me shit right now.

It was the wrong thing to say, and thats when things really kicked off. It was a big oneone of those fights that dredged up every negative feeling and cause of conflict that was between us, old or new. But this story isnt about that fight. Its about what happened after the fight, and how my life changed forever because of it.

As the argument wound down, reaching the kind of impasse where theres a whole lot of tension in the air but nothing left to say, I escaped to the other side of the house. After Id left for university my parents had downsized to a small home, so this consisted of stomping a few metres and closing the door to my sisters room, where I was sleeping while she was away on a school trip.

I called Jack to vent.

They are so fucking mad, I said into the phone, pacing the room. Man I laughed. Imagine if on top of this they found out I was into girls.

That would go down like a bag of sick, Jack replied emphatically.

After saying goodbye to Jack and hanging up, I strode confidently back out to the kitchen, feeling vindicated. I plonked myself down at the table and flipped open my laptop, plugging the phone cord in so I could connect to the internet.