At the end of August my partner, John, and I marked our twentieth anniversary together. In many ways this is unremarkable. Virtually every male couple I know are in very long term relationships – even friends of mine who are in their twenties or thirties seem to be destined to be ‘togethah forevah’. Why is this notable? Simple. Because even nowadays there is this perception that gay men are incapable of maintaining long term relationships and that they are more interested in one night stands and a life of bedhopping than establishing deep roots with one other person.
I’ve never thought gay men (or women, for that matter) are any more hedonistic that their straight counterparts. I think gay men got a reputation for shagging anything that moves because of the ease of access to sex if you wanted it. But as we see from the success of sites like Ashley Madison, PlentyOfFish, Tinder and countless others, straight men and women now have exactly the same opportunities.
Every relationship is different and there is no real secret which can explain why some endure and others come to grief after a relatively short time. Some relationships thrive on volatility, others on consensus. Some need an injection of excitement every now and then, others thrive on routine. There’s no handbook you can read on how to ensure your relationship endures, but there is one word which I’d say is vital to any long lasting partnership, and that’s ‘compromise’.
It’s very rare that two people share identical interests or identical personalities. Most of the time one part of the duo is interested in something that the other just can’t understand or abide. One might be more career minded than the other. There will always be massive differences. The art is to navigate them without falling out, and the way to do that is compromise. It’s not a word which tends to feature in my everyday lexicon. I’m a black and white person. Margaret Thatcher once said: “consensus seems to be the process of abandoning all beliefs, principles and values.” Well, she had a point in the political world, but in the world of relationships she’s wrong.
My partner is placid. I’m volatile. Apart from dogs and cars, we have few interests in common. I like travel. He’s a home boy. I love sport. He hates all sports. He collects glass. I collect speeding tickets. We have entirely different tastes in music and film. I like going to the cinema. He prefers to watch a DVD at home. I am a West Ham season ticket holder. He precedes every mention of the word ‘football’ with the word ‘fucking’. I could go on. At length.
And yet it works. We rarely have an argument. In twenty years together we’ve never had a door slamming, screaming row, and for anyone who knows me, they’ll no doubt raise an eyebrow at that. But happens to be true. Somehow, it works. Just as I am sure that at times I drive John to distraction with some of the things I do or say, I too sometimes bite my tongue or don’t say what I am thinking. The trouble is that he knows me too well, and knows exactly what I am thinking, sometimes before I think it!
But that’s what I mean about compromise. If one part of the relationship is intent on always getting their own way, the other one is effectively acting as a doormat. It’s almost abusive. No relationship like that can survive in the long term. At least, I don’t think it can, and even if it does, why would anyone want it to?
John and I have a (straight) friend who appears to row with his girlfriend most days. Every other day she splits up with him. Once a week she even packs his clothes into a suitcase. But then they kiss and make up. I couldn’t be in a relationship like that, but each to their own. What works for one couple doesn’t work for another.
In twenty years I haven’t once seriously considered splitting up and I am as sure as I can be that John hasn’t either. After all, who would get custody of the dogs?
This article appears in the November issue of Attitude Magazine
