Canterbury is a tiny place. Walking home, I bumped into the man I have been dubbing The Homophobe on the street. He apologised. He said he was sorry, that things never come out right by text and that what he had been trying to say wasn’t what I had taken from it. That he had grown up in a different country, on a different continent and was raised to believe certain things, different things, about religion and about life. And it wasn’t for him to judge me because who was he to know what god might think about who or what I am? What he said in his text, was that god would judge us all eventually but he wasn’t trying to say that god would judge me necessarily on who I love. I pointed out that he had called mine an “irreligious lifestyle choice” and that I certainly don’t need people in my life who think it’s wrong that I am gay- even if they don’t feel that they are personally judging me. I made all the points I made here, about how I feel that god is roughly OK with me, that if I can express myself how I need to, god won’t judge me negatively for that. And he said, who was he to say otherwise.
I don’t think I will text him, though he suggested it. But I feel a kind of resolution there, and maybe he wasn’t the only one who judged or jumped to conclusions in this equation. Maybe I made presumptions about his thinking based on past experience and maybe 8/10 times I would have been right to do so. But maybe I was harsh this time, because maybe what he said he said wrong. That can happen to any of us.