The story of how I became a directioner is all about young love. I was 13 with a massive crush. You know the kind of crush of where you cling to their every single word, when you like what they like, or at least pretend to, when you ask everyone about them, when nothing matters more than that crush. It was like that.
It was seven years ago, just after Zayn had left One Direction, and my crush was devastated just like everyone else. I had nothing but a vague idea of who Zayn or One Direction was. To me, they were just my crush’s favourite boyband. I asked him what his favourite song was and I listened to it. I was already a goner. Then I listened to a couple more. I Googled ‘all members of One Direction.’
I watched the video diaries, some edits, some moments from live performances, and I came to a few conclusions. A, I was a Niall girl, and B, I wanted a boyfriend like Harry’s.
I was 13, I barely knew them and it was obvious to me. They were in love. At first, I used to think that they were so lucky. They had a meet cute, the way they looked at each other and it was just the most adorable thing to me.
I told my crush what I thought. That Louis and Harry were just the cutest couple on the entire planet. His reply was to make the most disgusted confused face in the history of faces. I mean he was a teenage boy.
“They cannot be a couple,” were his exact words.
But I was so sure.
I was so sure that they were dating. I tried to argue, what about the touches? What about the looks? What about the tattoos and all the innuendos? But all he knew was that Louis had just either broken up with a girl or was dating someone. A girl. Not Harry Styles but some girl.
I wasn’t heartbroken exactly, I wasn’t sad, but I felt as if something was lost. It didn’t make sense to me. How could they not be dating? Friends don’t look at each other like that, they don’t talk to each other like that. I knew I didn’t. So I looked into it a little more. I wanted to know what other people thought because it couldn’t be that I was the only one who thought that Louis and Harry were dating.
Some people were blatantly against it. The antis. They believed that Louis and Harry were straight and were just friends or brothers or didn’t like each other. Whereas some believed what I did, that they were madly in love.
That wasn’t entirely a good thing though. If they were in love, it meant that they were closeted. That they couldn’t be who they were. That they had to hide. That’s what made my heart ache.
I didn’t understand it. I was only 13, I wouldn’t kiss a girl until a year later and question my sexuality until two more years (I was in hard denial). I didn’t know what being closeted exactly meant. I just knew that it was horrible, that it meant pretending to be someone you’re not. I didn’t understand it but it made me sad.
Since then a lot has changed. Now I know what being in the closet means because I am in one. It kills you a little every day, to hide such a big part of yourself. You are afraid that someone will find out every single second but secretly a small part of you wants them to. Sometimes you just want to hide it away from the entire world because you don’t want them to ruin this one good thing, and other times you want to shout it from the rooftops. It eats you away. It makes you resent everyone around you.
I don’t know how it was, how it still is, for Louis and Harry, but I know they will survive it. They are strong and it makes me strong. If they can do it maybe I can too. If they are brave enough to get up every day to face the world everyday head on then I can too.