Wes Streeting

Wes's autobiography, One Boy, Two Bills and a Fry Up, includes a chapter on Going Up (to Cambridge) and Coming Out:

 

"While I was on the CUSU Executive, I developed a crush on the Entertainments Officer. His name was Ed. Ed was tall, slim, with short, tousled brown hair and twinkling bright blue eyes. He was handsome, even if his photo in the student newspaper revealed some dodgy blond highlights. Before long, we would find ourselves going for a pint together after meetings.

 

I was desperately confused and conflicted about how I was feeling until one night, it all came to a head. I'd bumped into Ed at Cindies. We were dancing together, getting drunk on shots and having a good time, until he suddenly announced the was going home. Despite my protestations, he left. Whether it was the alcohol, the undeniable attraction, or that I simply lost the will to keep on trying to be someone I wasn't, I sent him a text message: 'You're fit and I fancy you.' And who said romance is dead?! The moment I hit send, I felt my heart race. I had never told anyone how I felt about them before. Not a single soul. Now I had just told a boy at university that I liked him. Ed was openly gay, but it still felt like an enormous risk.

 

He replied mercifully quickly, suggesting we meet the next day, but I didn't trust myself to wait any longer. What if I woke up and decided to hide again? So I seized the moment and asked if I could see him immediately.

We met on Trinity Lane outside Clare College, in the shadow of King's College Chapel and the rear entrance to the Old Schools... It was a freezing cold winter night and I wasn't sure if I was shivering with nerves or the biting cold. I walked towards him, reaching out touch his soft skin. We kissed, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Ed asked me how long I had felt like his. 'A while', I said shyly. He asked if I had ever told anyone. 'No', was my embarrassed reply. So we said our goodbyes and agreed to meet the next day to give me time to see how I was feeling.

 

As I stumbled through the square court door of Clare, happiness and relied were my chief emotions. But that was along with every other emotion that had kept me locked in the closet for so long. Guilt. Shame. And most of all fear. The gear that I would lose friends and family. The fear that I was a bad Christian and the fear that I would be jeopardising my future care.

 

As I crossed Clare Bridge, tears flowed faster than the current of the river below. I knew I couldn't hide anymore. I was exhausted. There was no going back to being someone I wasn't.

 

The next morning, my head was pounding - from booze as well as the tears. It took a few seconds to orientate myself and then it hit me. One of the most powerful feelings I had ever felt in my life: liberation.

 

I was smiling. I couldn't stop smiling. As I made my way over to the mirror on the wall of my pokey pyramid room at the top of the house, I started laughing. It was the uncontrollable laughter of relief. As I looked at my reflection I finally recognised the person staring back at me.

 

Being gay isn't a choice, but I had spent so many years choosing not to be. I hadn't realised how truly exhausting it had been. I felt as if the weight of the world had lifted from my shoulders.

 

Having the courage to come out to myself had been the hardest part of the journey. Coming out to others proved relatively easy, not least thanks to Ed and my friends at Selwyn. But one by one, as I told people and word got around, I couldn't have wished for a better reaction.

 

That I was elected unopposed as the Selwyn JCR president weeks later underlined the point. To the extent anyone cared about my sexuality, it wasn't an issue. I was a fully fledged student politico by this point. The campaign against university top-up fees was building, and I wanted to play a more active part in it. So we continued to organise student stunts and protests and built towards the National Union of Students (NUS) national demonstration in London.

 

Aside from the demos, the politicking and drunken nights out with my mates, I spent most of the rest of my second year in a relationship with Ed. Although it lasted just seven months, twenty-five or so 'Cambridge weeks', the warmth and intensity made it one of the most meaningful relationships I have had. But when the year ended, so did Ed's time at Cambridge. As a finalist, he was moving to London to start a new career and, wisely, upon reflection, decided that keeping a relationship in Cambridge wouldn't allow him to make the fresh start he needed and would distract from my final year.

 

As the last weeks of the year approached, the usual joy of the Cambridge summer, with May balls, end-of-year garden parties, and drinks out on the college grass, was tinged with sadness that a relationship with someone I loved was coming to an end."