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Homophobia (of an Unexpected Kind)

The other week, I was lucky enough to be invited to a friend’s wedding and it was absolutely first class. The wine was flowing, the chat poured forth and the music was decanted effortlessly.

To have a rest from our crazy dancing (we were partying hard), myself and one of the other guests took a seat at the downstairs bar, away from the music upstairs. We ended up chatting to the barman who, on the surface, seemed a very pleasant chap. He was telling us about the local area, the celebrities he had served in the past and humouring our weird sense of humour. (I would like to point out here that I was completely and utterly sober).

We ended up talking about sexuality, as it inevitably comes up in good conversation, and I professed that I was homoromantic – sex doesn’t bother me, but a loving relationship does (and a good snog every now and again never goes amiss).

At this point, said barman says “No dude, that’s not right… I reckon that says something quite dark about your mind.”

Woah.

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