In 2006 I’d just graduated film school at the Victorian College of the Arts and was working at the ABC in Melbourne. It was a pretty tumultuous time of my life. I had just broken up with my best friend and high school sweetheart – whom I adored – and was in the process of coming out.
I was drinking too much and in breaks from the chaos I’d find myself drawn to the local video store. That’s where I first saw Garrett behind the counter. I had an instant crush on him and spent a lot of time perusing the art house section, so he would see how creative and cultured I was.
I never had the guts to talk to him but one night in spring we ran into each other at a party. We hit it off and arranged a date at a cafe in the city. I was obsessed with Kate Bush and Wuthering Heights, and Garrett struck me as this sort of Heathcliff type; he was a dark, handsome artist with very dramatic, gothic vibes.
That day we talked about art and the things that we love. I was so excited that he shared my passion for Kate Bush, and listening to Hounds of Love on repeat. We talked about John Waters and Cindy Sherman and all these artists that were really formative for us.
But that coming-out period was really intense for me. Growing up, my father had enforced this notion that being gay was this dark, shameful, lonely experience. I was so scared of my truth and deep down I felt as if I didn’t deserve to be loved because of it.
Garrett is nine years older than me, and was comfortable with himself in a way I thought was so brave and found so inspiring. Still, my coming-out summer was messy. I’d get hideously drunk and perform these outrageous stripteases to Tina Turner’s Private Dancer, or Sade’s Smooth Operator for him.
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