Me and John 1993
John, Jenny, Saffi and me - Pride 1993
Me and John, Portsmouth 2022
Last night I spoke to my dear friend, John from the UK. John is more like family, and we have been friends for over 30 years. I wish I could say I contact him and other friends often, but I don't. That of course doesn't mean I don't hold them in high regard, because I do, but I do find it difficult talking to people, I know I can't see in person. Living in Australia for over three years has been a challenge for friendships in every respect. I suppose deep down I knew that the important people in my life would be hard to leave behind, especially at my age, but it has been more difficult than I expected.
Moving to Australia in my early 50s has left me quite empty in many respects and contented in many others. I have always regarded friendships as family, especially when I wasn't particularly close to my own relatives during my 20s and 30s. I grew up on a gay scene, at a time, when many of those close to me, were estranged from their kin folk. For this reason, we became family in all but name. The 1990s was a difficult time to be gay; we didn't have the rights we enjoy today, and discrimination was commonplace. With each of us dealing with our own demons and relying on each other for support, our lives at least became more liveable, rich and mostly free from harm. Safety in numbers was our saving grace.
A gay scene was a way of life. Everything we did revolved around our respective sexualities — not because we disliked straight people, but because we were there for each other. Protecting those we loved from the negative aspects of life outside our bubble, in a safe, nurturing environment, was important at a time of change. Peoples attitudes and views of the gay community were slowly transforming, but the politics behind this evolution also created a backlash from the more undesirable elements of society.
I have lost count of the number of times I was personally attacked and abused for being gay. It was a fact of life back then, and we all learnt to accept it. Life was hard, but having each other helped us navigate the harsh world we were now a part of. Many of us retreated into ourselves, avoiding the reality outside. We chose to live in an exclusive gay world, on a scene, because it accorded us the acceptance that most of us never received elsewhere.
Sat here in Australia today, a part of me misses that closeness. Darrell and I are alone, living our life away from the friends we grew up with in the UK and when I speak to people like John, it makes me appreciate the times we spent with him and many others. Every time I speak to people back home, I become sad, regretful and terribly introspective. The less I speak with people like John, the more I am able to block out the way I feel — I suppose silence is my coping mechanism!
I admit moving to Australia at my time of life has been hard. Australians are not as welcoming as the British, and it is difficult building a new life at such an old age. Of course Darrell and I are lucky to have each other, which is more than a lot of people have, but we are always mindful of those we left behind. When you do get older, less able and full of self-reproach, it is important to have others around you, who take your mind off the challenges we all face as we age. Here, in Western Australia, it is Darrell and me against the World, and we have to live with that.
Mentally, it can be exhausting without friendships. As an individual I over-scrutinise, dwell and forever think 'what if'? The feeling I have left my history and upbringing behind, is tough. The real person I am is left in the UK, and I am now coping with a new life, without the reminders of the past. It is almost as if, the longer I am here, the more the memories will disappear and that makes it easier to cope with my new reality.
Reading between the lines, you can tell I am not the happiest person on the planet right now, and I can't deny that fact. I do crave the reminiscences of more eventful and momentous times in my life, but that is only to be expected when you up sticks and move abroad. I do have many reminders of my past with me, not particularly in tangible form, but through digital photographs, that I frequently look at, recalling happy occasions, that keep me grounded in Australia.
This is a new chapter in my life and the most difficult yet. I do miss my gay scene life, the friends, and family who are not here, and the contact we all crave. But, I am fully aware of how better off I am, despite the feelings of loneliness, and yes, at times, isolation. Technology today has helped to keep the nostalgia and conversations alive, and for that I am truly grateful. Coming to terms with my new normal, just as I did during COVID, is a challenge I am happy to endure. This is a time for Darrell and I to shine. This is a period to make money, build a future and nest egg, and it is also a chapter in which to reflect, remember, and hold on to memories the made us the couple we are today.
Life is hard right now, but as I am well aware, nothing lasts forever!
Moving to Australia in my early 50s has left me quite empty in many respects and contented in many others. I have always regarded friendships as family, especially when I wasn't particularly close to my own relatives during my 20s and 30s. I grew up on a gay scene, at a time, when many of those close to me, were estranged from their kin folk. For this reason, we became family in all but name. The 1990s was a difficult time to be gay; we didn't have the rights we enjoy today, and discrimination was commonplace. With each of us dealing with our own demons and relying on each other for support, our lives at least became more liveable, rich and mostly free from harm. Safety in numbers was our saving grace.
A gay scene was a way of life. Everything we did revolved around our respective sexualities — not because we disliked straight people, but because we were there for each other. Protecting those we loved from the negative aspects of life outside our bubble, in a safe, nurturing environment, was important at a time of change. Peoples attitudes and views of the gay community were slowly transforming, but the politics behind this evolution also created a backlash from the more undesirable elements of society.
I have lost count of the number of times I was personally attacked and abused for being gay. It was a fact of life back then, and we all learnt to accept it. Life was hard, but having each other helped us navigate the harsh world we were now a part of. Many of us retreated into ourselves, avoiding the reality outside. We chose to live in an exclusive gay world, on a scene, because it accorded us the acceptance that most of us never received elsewhere.
Sat here in Australia today, a part of me misses that closeness. Darrell and I are alone, living our life away from the friends we grew up with in the UK and when I speak to people like John, it makes me appreciate the times we spent with him and many others. Every time I speak to people back home, I become sad, regretful and terribly introspective. The less I speak with people like John, the more I am able to block out the way I feel — I suppose silence is my coping mechanism!
I admit moving to Australia at my time of life has been hard. Australians are not as welcoming as the British, and it is difficult building a new life at such an old age. Of course Darrell and I are lucky to have each other, which is more than a lot of people have, but we are always mindful of those we left behind. When you do get older, less able and full of self-reproach, it is important to have others around you, who take your mind off the challenges we all face as we age. Here, in Western Australia, it is Darrell and me against the World, and we have to live with that.
Mentally, it can be exhausting without friendships. As an individual I over-scrutinise, dwell and forever think 'what if'? The feeling I have left my history and upbringing behind, is tough. The real person I am is left in the UK, and I am now coping with a new life, without the reminders of the past. It is almost as if, the longer I am here, the more the memories will disappear and that makes it easier to cope with my new reality.
Reading between the lines, you can tell I am not the happiest person on the planet right now, and I can't deny that fact. I do crave the reminiscences of more eventful and momentous times in my life, but that is only to be expected when you up sticks and move abroad. I do have many reminders of my past with me, not particularly in tangible form, but through digital photographs, that I frequently look at, recalling happy occasions, that keep me grounded in Australia.
This is a new chapter in my life and the most difficult yet. I do miss my gay scene life, the friends, and family who are not here, and the contact we all crave. But, I am fully aware of how better off I am, despite the feelings of loneliness, and yes, at times, isolation. Technology today has helped to keep the nostalgia and conversations alive, and for that I am truly grateful. Coming to terms with my new normal, just as I did during COVID, is a challenge I am happy to endure. This is a time for Darrell and I to shine. This is a period to make money, build a future and nest egg, and it is also a chapter in which to reflect, remember, and hold on to memories the made us the couple we are today.
Life is hard right now, but as I am well aware, nothing lasts forever!
