I was born on Oxford Street in Sydney, Australia. My mother went into labour with me in what is now the gayest gym in the country. To say I was born to be gay was an understatement. I’m fact, let’s rewind a bit earlier. In my ultrasound I had my legs crossed and apparently was tucking my dick because the doctor thought that I was a girl, so until the day I was born I was going to be called Samantha. When I look through photo albums (they’re what existed before iPhones) of my childhood, there are so many pics of me playing with dolls, or covered in make up, or in dresses (as early as six months old). Having another son was not going to crush my mother’s dreams of having tea parties with her spawn. I guess it eventually made coming out easier. She just asked me one day when I was 15. We were driving home. After about ten minutes she turned to me and just said she was sad she’d never have grandchildren. I responded with “for one thing, I want to have kids and I also have a brother”. Her response: “oh yeah, I forgot about him”
Parent of the year right there folks. Fortunately my family have always been extremely supportive of me in every way possible. Not just my sexuality, but also the fact that I’m a huge mess that will probably end up living in an abandoned building with dozens of pets. I never take my good fortune for granted. I truly wish everyone had the same love and support from their families that I have from mine. They even tolerate my hoe life on social media (and they are incredibly Christian, but the non judgemental kind) did you grow up in a religious household? - @thelucasjtglover

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