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Archive for 2019

Another open letter to my late husband.

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My dearest Owen.

Oh, how I wish you were still here.

A few weeks ago, my relationship (and subsequent marriage) to Nathaniel broke down completely after just eighteen months when he decided he no longer loved me. He'd already moved on to someone else and, whilst I was in hospital after suffering a mild heart attack, he never once came to see me. He spent all his time shagging his new man instead. I have no idea who it is and I don't think I want to know either.

Why did you never tell me it was him who'd tried it on with you that day whilst you were at work? Caroline would have never played match-maker and put me with him if we'd have known. It turns out he only got with me because he wanted to feel closer to you. We were both in love with you but you never once cheated on me. We were together for fourteen years and had a solid relationship. He took his own life after attacking me whilst high as a kite on drugs. That complete psychopath took all of us for complete and utter mugs and I'm glad he's no longer here to hurt me any more.

On the one-year anniversary of your death, Caroline and Sally were married in a lavish ceremony and I know you were there, watching over us, as the sun was beaming down on us all day. I'd originally been made toastmaster and best man but, knowing that it was exactly one year since you left us, I was hit for six. Painful memories of that fateful day came flooding back so I eventually handed the duties to someone else.

(We also had a tribute playlist in your honour. I know you'd have been proud.)

A few months later, on New Year's Eve last year, they were both involved in a horrific car accident alongside Elisa. Caroline ended up in an induced coma for twelve days, eight of which were deep, and she showed no signs of life for the first few days. She was barely clinging to life and you were talking to her all that time. She is now out of hospital and continuing her recovery at home and, even though she's now paralysed, she is so lucky to be alive and we're all still grateful to you for bringing her back to us.

Our son is now 21-months-old and growing every day. It hasn't been easy adapting to life as a single parent but your mum's been helped me where possible since my second marriage broke down. He took his first steps a few months ago and now we can't shut him up either!

Oh, and Elisa has now found love again, this time with our good friend Rachael. Both their mums have already given them their blessing. I'm hoping they can finally find happiness with each other and I'm sure you'd have been so happy for them too.

I have to close now. I hope you're OK up there. Thank you for showing me what true love actually meant. It'll be a while before I find that again. I still miss you so much. You meant the world to me. I was proud to call you my husband but you were so much more than that. You were also my best friend and my soul mate. It still hurts that you're no longer by my side, I still wear your ring round my neck alongside your ashes, and still I love you.

I hope you're still thinking about me up there like I'm doing down here for you. I still think about you every day, especially around Eurovision time, and I always raise a toast to you every time our act comes on, no matter what position we're in or how crap our song is. I know how much you loved Eurovision and I do it for you.

You're still in my heart forever and always. Don't you ever forget that.

As always, your ever-loving husband.

Ant. xx

GUEST POST: My coming out story.

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Hey all. Anthony's opened up the blog to let his friends and family post here so he's not going it alone so I thought I'd be the first to post here. I'm Rachael, by the way. But you can call me Rach.

So, where do I start? I've just turned 35, I'm from a little place in the North West of England called Liverpool, I was born as a twin but separated at birth and I have recently fallen in love with another woman.

When I was at school, I had to hide in the closet from the class bullies, then I found my biological mama when I was eighteen, but I hid my true sexuality from her given her strict religious views. I've always pretended to be someone I wasn't. Much like a very good friend, I realised I was attracted to both sexes when I was school, but he couldn't hide his as well as I could. I fell in love with another man, Paul, at our school prom after both our dates stood us up and we'd been happily married for four years but, sadly, we were involved in a massive car crash. As he lay in a coma in hospital, I made a promise that, if I couldn't have him, I didn't want anybody else (incidentally, as I type this, I'm currently listening to If I Can't Have You by A1, one of my all-time favourite bands) and, until very recently, I kept my word. He tragically lost his fight for life a few hours later aged just 24 and I still miss him so very much. He left me with two wonderful children, one of whom is just about to sit her GCSE examinations, and I know they also miss him dearly.

In the twelve years since his death, I've raised both our children single-handedly, and have made many mistakes along the way. I've still fancied people of the both sexes and, for years, I've identified as a closeted bisexual (until a few days ago, the only people who knew my true sexuality were my three best mates but, sadly, one of them died two years ago this summer after being violently assaulted, and I still miss his hugs) but I now identify as pansexual. The difference between the two is that pansexuality also involves personalities so, as well being attracted to both sexes, you don't care what they look like before they go down between your legs. If they're a total minger on the outside, but have a decent personality, that's all I care about.

It's what's inside that matters to me.

As I mentioned before, I've recently broken my promise to my late husband to finally find love again, this time with someone of the same sex, and he'll now be looking down on me wondering where it all went wrong. I've always found her attractive and, a few weeks ago, we shared a kiss for the first time. It was wonderful. I don't know it happened, it just did. The way my heart pounded and my stomach tied itself into knots whilst feeling her arms around me with her warm naked body against mine for the first time, I knew I couldn't deny my feelings any longer. The sex is amazing and she's a fantastic kisser. Like me, she also has two wonderful children from a previous relationship, and she'd also been hiding her sexuality for years because she wasn't sure how her mum would react to it. I told her that her mum had two lovely children, one of whom was actually gay, so I'm sure she wouldn't object to it. Her mum has actually accepted our relationship and, whilst I was afraid that my mum wouldn't, she has as well. I wasn't sure how she'd react, given the fact she's both Italian and Catholic, so I'm happy they've both given us the seal of approval and we can now move on.

I'm still not fully lesbian, I'm just in a relationship with someone who now identifies as such (she's the sister of the same deceased friend I've previously mentioned and also has a wonderful personality), and I never thought I'd ever get to experience that again. We've since moved in together and I hope to marry her one day but, for now, just being close to her will do nicely.

If, one day, our kids also decide to come out of the closet, I won't mind. Who am I to object now that I'm in a same-sex relationship? I suspect at least one of them may be after I caught him watching gay porn on his tablet the other week and, after we got caught mid-shag by one friend and mid-half-naked-snog from another (oops! Still blushing...), I can now see where he gets it from.

I have finally found the real me and all my family deserve now is happiness. That's all I'm asking for.