P icture it. Sydney. 2015. I had weathered a nasty breakup the previous year. I had often compromised a lot of who I was and what I enjoyed to keep the other person happy. Post-breakup, I decided I would never change who I was for anyone else ever again.
I got on the apps and matched with Jake, a handsome young man 10 years younger than me. We chatted on Grindr and planned to meet for coffee and then spend the afternoon at Cronulla beach.
Days later, on a hot summer morning, I sat waiting in a coffee shop at Miranda Fair. My heart was thumping. This was the first date I’d been on since the breakup. Sure, there’d been plenty of hookups. What gay doesn’t go through his footloose and fancy-free phase post heartbreak? But this was the first real date. And at 33, for some reason, I felt old. What did this cute young thing see in me, that he reached out to me ?
He arrived soon after. We’d already covered some ground when chatting online, so the ice breakers and awkwardness were out of the way already.
I laid all my cards on the table. I had nothing to lose. I was about to become a surrogate father with a lesbian couple. I intended on being a part of this child’s life and I wasn’t going to accept anyone in my romantic life who took issue with that, or didn’t want to be a part of that themselves. He wasn’t fazed in the slightest by it.
I remember how much he made me laugh on that date. We’d been quoting The Simpsons, Friends, Star Wars, even Seinfeld! I was genuinely shocked. Marvel and DC comics might be mainstream now but, in 2015 in my world, meeting another gay who was into nerd culture felt revolutionary.
Before going to the beach, Jake asked if I’d accompany him shopping to use up some gift vouchers that were due to expire. Why not? It was still early in the day.
We stood in a homewares store; I wanted to buy a new beach towel. He started to tell me a story. He smirked and said, “OK, picture it, Sicily, 1922 …”
My head spun. For the uninitiated, those famous words are the catchphrase of Sophia “Ma” Petrillo in The Golden Girls, one of my favourite shows of all time. When I was a kid, my late grandmother and I would cuddle on the lounge and watch it together. I didn’t really understand a lot of it then but it still made me laugh, and I remember my grandmother’s laugh, this chuckle that sort of hissed through her teeth. The show is a source of comfort and joy for me now. It advocated for gay rights and acceptance in a time where the mere use of the word “gay” on TV would see pearls clutched across the nation!
So in that homewares store, I did a double take. And without thinking, blurted out: “Oh my God did you just quote Golden Girls at me? Marry me!”
He chuckled and continued with the story. It might sound like a rather brash thing to say on a first date but there was an element of truth to it. I thought, “I’m gonna marry that boy one day.”
Ten years later, I did. On a beautiful April day in Leura, made all the lovelier and greener as it followed a week of torrential rain. We had tuxedos made but I wanted something special: a ball gown for the bottom half. Jake, having just completed a fashion course, granted my wish, and I walked down the aisle that day in a gown made with his own loving hands. For the first time in my life, I felt like a true expression of who I was.
To this day there is no one on Earth who can make me laugh and smile like he does. Jake is a wonderful stepdad to my two daughters. We’ve always accepted each other for who we are. We never fight. We may disagree from time to time but nary a harsh word is exchanged. He’s so gentle and non-combative, conflicts always resolve themselves so peacefully.
In recent years I was diagnosed with autism with ADHD, and suddenly a lot about why I am the way I am made perfect sense. But Jake is always able to calm me down whenever I become frazzled and overwhelmed – we jokingly call him the Anthony whisperer. It’s a level of sorcery not even Tolkien could write about.
I don’t know how I’d survive without him. I wouldn’t change him for the world. Nor would he ever ask any different of me.
