Going on your first holiday together as a couple can be a stressful experience. You can’t hide all your disgusting habits like you do at home – there can be no escape from your other half. Our trip to Denmark, however, was often plagued by a more uncomfortable nagging feeling: the sense that no one believed we could be in a relationship.

My experience of others’ disbelief of my sexuality has been constant and oppressive; from my mother’s reaction to my coming out (“Are you sure?!”), to the look the waiter gives when I say “Table for two, please”, there is a continual sense that two young men simply cannot be together.

Of course, things in Cambridge have been far easier for me and my boyfriend. We both go to the same college, and although he's a fresher (insert inappropriate joke here), we've never had any difficulties about the nature of our relationship. Cambridge is a hotbed of liberal attitudes and social progressiveness, perhaps even more so than many other university towns. Our second home could almost rival Brighton in terms of how far left the population leans.

For these reasons, my boyfriend and I have never thought twice about holding hands, or kissing each other in public. The beauty of Cambridge is that it is one of the few places where people make no assumptions about your sexuality. However, this poses a serious issue in terms of comparative real-world experiences - this is where the term 'The Bubble' feels truly relevant. The relative illiberalism which persists throughout much of the world is made perhaps more visible in the juxtaposition to Cambridge. Having recently returned from an unadventurous trip to Scandinavia, I’ve been reflecting on some of the uncomfortable interactions we endured.

As we checked in at a bed and breakfast in some desolate corner of Sweden, our host seemed confused that it was just the two of us staying there. Where were the girlfriends, I saw her ask herself. Since there were none, what about the parents? Those are the two options, aren’t they? I can understand that a couple with an age difference may face issues if someone suggests they might be father and daughter, or mother and son. The difference there is the discernable age-gap. My boyfriend and I are the same age, travelling alone, and quite assuredly not related. Because of our relative height difference, I would be less offended if our hostess had mistaken us for Gandalf and a hobbit.

The cringing embarrassment continued as she showed us to our room. Pointing to the double bed, our host laughed and said, “Of course, you can separate the beds!”. This isn’t a remark you would make if we were an older, heterosexual couple. It’s not even something you’d say to a hetero couple of our age; if our host was faced with a twenty-something couple of different sexes, she wouldn’t have dreamed of suggesting they pull the beds apart.

Perhaps the most uncomfortable incident, however, occurred after we met with my parents, also holidaying nearby. Phoning to alter a dinner reservation, my mother explained to the restaurant owner that her son’s ‘friend’ would be joining us. I shuddered in embarrassment, instantly apologised to my boyfriend, and noted that this was simply one of numerous occasions upon which he had been introduced simply as a friend. Like the previous incident, if I was instead holidaying with my girlfriend, I cannot imagine my mother would have referred to her as a friend. I didn’t correct her, but I wished I could have.

And so I am left wondering why it is that these interactions made me feel so uncomfortable. I have come to the conclusion that a latent, casual (but nonetheless upsetting) homophobia still persists. This is likely not a conscious dislike of gay couples, yet it manifests itself in a number of hurtful ways. As I have highlighted, the problem seems to be exacerbated with young, gay couples. Although I successfully stared-down a gawking old man at the airport, his was not the only wandering gaze.

Why does it remain so difficult to accept young, gay couples? The problem seemed clearest while on this inaugural holiday, perhaps because we had travelled together, alone. Believing yourself to be mature and independent, only to be met with such awkward reactions, is quite disheartening. A contributing factor is surely the lack of high-profile, young, gay people. Older gay couples, whether they like it or not, have a number of visible role models, who act as normalizers. These simply do not exist for people like us. I might cite the obvious reasons for this latent unease, especially with younger gay couples: unfair beliefs about promiscuity; damaging religious teachings and traditions; the refusal to hold gay and heterosexual relationships in the same esteem.

While the root cause of homophobia, from archaic religious teachings, may be true for all ages, young gay couples experience a unique level of oppression. Be it eating out at a restaurant together, or travelling abroad, disbelief or confusion follows us, more or less because of low-lying prejudice. Young gay men, in a relationship or otherwise, need role-models, and fast normalization. In the media, we need to see less “Is this Harry Styles’ secret gay lover?!”, and more, “Harry Styles and gorgeous boyfriend’s date night!” In the meantime, I will continue to kiss, and hold hands with my boyfriend in public, and hope that he is not offended by my obvious obsession with Harry Styles.