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The stereotype relates, again, to the idea of gay men as being urban. This one does: whenever I'm out walking with someone else, they end up sweating, out of breath and begging me to slow down – a homophobic request which I flatly refuse.
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The ones that don’t, on the other hand, are fatuous nonsense. I’m inclined to believe that all of the stereotypes which apply to me personally are true, or at least gesture towards a larger truth. Thankfully there is one mode of transport at which we excel. Not that I went cruising or anything, I just drove around listening to Kelly Clarkson with my gals, but it was still an escape from the trappings of heterosexual domesticity. "Gays are supposed to escape from home – it's part of our whole narrative – and if you live in the sticks, that means escaping in the car. However, Sean – a gay man who claims to be able to drive (a freak, an oddball… surely at least bisexual?) – suggests that my attitude is derived from townie privilege. Although my upbringing was provincial in comparison to London, in the context of central Scotland I was practically a city slicker. The migration of gay people from small towns to big cities, where driving often isn’t necessary, is pretty well documented, which makes this stereotype plausible. Never would I have to do anything so prosaic as ferrying my children to school or driving to my job in an out-of-town business park: I was destined for gayer things. I always knew I was going to live in a city when I was older, so learning to drive seemed like a waste of time. When I was 17, when most of my peers were learning to drive, I was too busy taking mephedrone and playing synth in a band with my female best friend – which is, however you look at it, pretty gay.