I have been with my partner for 18 years and yet until last year we had never spent a Christmas together. I had always gone to my parents’ in Essex and he to his parents in Kent. In later years he’d make an escape and join me at my parents in the evening, but neither of us found it satisfactory.
Why, then, did we do it? Simple. Because both of us feared that the very year we chose to spend Christmas together would be followed by the death of one of our parents. Irrational maybe, but one year we would have been right.
This is not something unique to gay couples, of course. Yet for many gay couples Christmas can be a time when tricky choices have to be made, especially those who haven’t come out to their parents. And even in these enlightened days there are still many gay people who find that particular conversation difficult to have.
I had that conversation at the ripe old age of forty. My parents had known my partner for five or six years and he often joined me for the weekend at their home. But the penny hadn’t dropped. He was my friend and they liked him very much. But the fact that he was more than that never seemed to click with them. By way of contrast, my partner came out to his parents at the age of sixteen and didn’t like the fact that I wasn’t prepared to rock the parental boat. He was right, of course. I was being a coward.
But when I decided to try to be a Tory MP I decided that I had to tell my parents I was gay. Everyone in Westminster knew, but I didn’t want the parents reading about it in the Daily Telegraph or one of their friends saying something inopportune. I decided to do it when I reached the second round of a parliamentary selection – possibly not the best or most courageous criteria to use to come out. I remember that drive round the M25 and up the M11 as if it were yesterday. I rehearsed in my mind what I would say, but nothing ever seemed right. Everyone kept saying to me ‘don’t worry, it won’t come as a surprise to them. They must know’. I doubted that very much. After all, I knew my parents, and they didn’t.
My Dad is always good in a crisis. He is a man of few words, but I was fairly confident he would be OK. My mother was the sweetest and most kindly woman in the world but I sensed it would be more difficult for her. I won’t go into the details of the conversation but it wasn’t an easy one. There was incomprehension, bemusement and a degree of horror. I explained that John was much more than a friend, that I loved him very deeply and I hoped they could bring themselves to accept that. My Dad gave me a hug but my mum just had a far-away look on her face.
But all was well that ended well. They continued to welcome John into their home and came to treat him as a son-in-law and both came to our civil partnership in 2008. However, the subject of my gayness was never spoken of again. My mother died last June. I loved her with all my heart but in my soul I know how much I hurt her. But in the end we can’t live our lives for other people no matter how much we love them. We have to be true to ourselves. That’s not being selfish, it’s being honest.
I suspect Christmas is a time when lots of gay people come out to their parents. Is it the best time to do it? Probably not, but for many people there is never a good time. But the longer you leave it the more difficult it can get. Attitudes have changed over the generations, but for some people it will never be easy.
Last year was the first year I spent a full Christmas Day with John, but I spent most of it in bed with flu. This year we’ll be in our new home in Norfolk with only the dogs for company. And a Christmas tree. Happy Christmas!
