The more time I spent with Jean, the more unhealthy our relationship had become. It soon came time for me to go back to University, but I decided I couldn’t leave her, so we arranged for me to move into her house as a lodger and I would commute for my third year. Now, the house wasnt big enough for the four of them, let alone me too, but we were so desperate to be together that I lived on the sofa in the living room. It was agony for me, watching her go upstairs each night with her husband, and he had no idea what was going on.
In the meantime, Jean had been having issues with her eating. She had started on the Cambridge diet in a bid to lose weight, and had already lost four stone. This dramatic weight loss, which happened right before my eyes, triggered me back into my old ways and I began dieting too, losing nearly two stone this time. It wasn’t so desperate or addictive as before, but there were some ED elements in play. I was also cutting, mainly on my legs, but not badly, depsite Jean being beside herself everytime I did it.
We were so close, and although I knew it was a very unhealthy relationship which I shouldn’t let continue, I still did. We ate together, we made ourselves throw up together. We took baths together, got dressed together. I couldn’t imagine living my life without her by my side. As she lost weight, she aged. By now, she looked more than 10 years older than she was (bear in mind there was a 17 year ago gap already) but I didn’t seem to notice it. She kept asking me why I loved her, but my reply was always the same. I loved her because of who she was, and I always would. I told her I wanted to be with her forever and at that point I truly believed it.
I had stopped escorting soon after I met Jean because she couldn’t deal with me doing it. I was still promiscuous, especially when drunk, but I never went out without Jean, and she didn’t like clubbing, so I stayed very loyal to her during this time. It was a few months into our relationship when Jean told me that she felt too bad about cheating on her husband with me, and that we needed to end it. I couldn’t bear the thought of it, my feelings for her were so intense I felt as though I would die if we weren’t together. She suggested we involved him in the situation, and I went along with it.
The first time we all slept together was an experience I will never forget. The children were staying at their Grandmas house so we had the house to ourselves. Both Jean and I had a few drinks to settle our nerves before heading upstairs to the loft. Despite my colourful history with men, I had never had a threesome, and was intrigued by the idea. The room was candlelit, and although I think back now with disgust, it was one of those experiences I will never forget. There was no jealousy between any of us, just longing.
Little did I realise, that incident would be the first of many. Very quickly, my bed moved from the sofa downstairs to a campbed beside their bed in the loft. I dread to think what the children must have thought – and I must admit the way that the situation and what followed affected them is one of the biggest regrets of my life. Little did they realise, although I had a campbed alongside their bed in the loft, I never slept in it, we spent the next year sleeping three in a bed, me in the middle.
As time went by, I started to resent Jeans husband. Jean never portrayed him in a positive light, I have since come to learn that you should not listen to one side of the story and believe it. She blamed him for everything that was wrong in her life, and as a result, I did too. Still, no-one knew our secret, they just believed I was living with them as a lodger, and as no-one had visited the house, they didn’t realise that logistically that wouldn’t work.
As time went by, I resented Jeans husband more and more. Still we continued our sexual rendevous. Despite the fact that I hated him, I used an old trick I had learnt as an escort when sleeping with someone I didn’t particularly like. I learned to close out what was happening to me – and I learnt later that this was a form of ‘disassociation’. I used to think that he could have my body, but never my mind. If only I had had the courage to stand up and think, what the hell am I doing here?? I would have been out of the door in a flash.
A few months later, Jean and I went on holiday together, alone. We had a wonderful week without her husband and I think it gave her a glimpse of what life could be like without him. When we returned home, she told him it was over and asked him to leave. I could understand the pain he was feeling, he truly believed that after this year together, she was his wife, and I was his girlfriend. To me, he was just something I had to put up with to be with Jean.
When he left, Jean and I decided to ‘come out’ of the closet. I embraced the ‘gay life’ wholeheartedly, despite various family members and friends telling me it was just a phase. It was at this time I discovered I had poly-cystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) but I didn’t care, I didn’t want children anyway, I was gay. The only thing that I hated about it was the excess hair and spots that it caused, which took a lot of time to deal with.
As time went by, we had our problems, but in the main, we enjoyed our time together. We didn’t have much money (in fact none at all) but we tried to improve the house by finding a second hand carpet and putting it down in the living room, painting the loft, and various other jobs that made it feel more like home. Little did I realise that the small doubts the kept popping into my head would cause problems further along the line.
I kept thinking that it didn’t matter that I had realised I didn’t fancy Jean, I loved her. It didn’t matter that when I was fifty, she would be sixety seven, because I loved her. That it would be possible for me to be alone for 17 years at the end of my life – because I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. Because I couldn’t have children – well I didn’t want them anyway because I was gay.
I found myself not wanting to have sex with her, or even be affectionate. The situation worsened when I bought us a puppy. It seemed that I had a backlog of pent up affection and I gave it all to him, which Jean despised. We started to row more often, and I started to resent her, for putting her children first, for not spending money wisely – so many things were wrong with her.
After about eight months of not sleeping together, I suddenly realised one important detail;
I AM NOT A LESBIAN.
Who was I kidding. I think perhaps I was curious, I wanted to test the water. But I couldn’t see myself living the rest of my life like this. The controversy was too much. I couldn’t deal with the stares whilst walking down the street whilst hand in hand with Jean, the dirty looks or the snide comments. It probably didn’t help that she looked old enough to be my mother, but that wasn’t the problem. I didn’t want to be with her any more but how could I leave her now, now that she had left her husband for me and I had promised I would love her forever?
I was kidding myself that I could carry on living like this, that we could be like sisters and I wouldn’t have to leave. After a while I found myself hating her; every little thing she did grated on me. I fell into a deep depression, I started cutting more often, and we rowed almost every day.
It was at this time, I got back in contact with an old friend called Lyn. After many long conversations with Lyn, she offered me a place to stay, to get me away from Jean. She could see where the situation was going, and wanted to help, and so I moved out and moved in with Lyn.
Although the whole situation was a complete nightmare, my biggest regret is putting Jeans children through what I did. I know, Jean should have known better, but I just hope that they can go on now to live normal, healthy lives and they are not affected by what they went through. As for Jean, I believe she now has a new girlfriend and is living as a lesbian woman. At least our relationship made her find her true self.
Take Care. x