Where there's a Will there's a Grace by Stephen Duffy
I've always been proud of my special ability to surround myself with close friends who can see the seamy side of any situation; chums whose carefully honed insight allows them to see the sordid in just about everyone. Which is particularly useful as I've always believed friends harbouring the potential for bad behaviour are, well, bad - but those with the capacity to behave very badly are ever so much better.
But we all, from time to time, make the wrong choice when it comes to the people we bring into our lives, especially when love rears its head. Some of us never recover from the choices we make, and none of us are immune to the trainwrecks of heartbreak. But me…I believe wholeheartedly in romance and holding hands and silly smiles but, more importantly, I fully believe in friendship beyond heartbreak.
In his Tales of the City novels, Armistead Maupin discusses the notion of a “logical family” as opposed to the “biological family”. My best friend in the whole world, John, is the most important member of my “logical” family. I met John 13 years ago at a dinner party. He spilt an entire bottle of red wine over me and we fell in love. Nothing says “be mine” like Levis covered in Chardonnay, eh? He was in his late 40’s, I was in my mid 20’s. John is 60 now, I’m 37. In the years since we met, our relationship has evolved way beyond the romantic and the conventional – we’re not so much partners, we’re “logical family”… sort of an all male Will and Grace (or should that be Will & Will?) I’m not fond of using a sitcom as an analogy to my urbane and variegated life, but the Will & Grace comparison works; two people who, in an ideal world, should be together romantically and physically can’t be… so they become each other’s closest ally, confidant and companion. That’s me and John.
John and I have lived together for 13 years now, and though we once used the term “boyfriends” to describe the relationship, that term hasn’t been appropriate for a long time. And though we’re ‘partners’, it’s a very unconventional partnership (but who says relationships have to conventional anyway?) I’ve had romantic attachments to other people in the intervening years, but throughout John has always been my constant companion, but that conjures up images of elderly spinsters in flowery hats…
Whenever I’ve been cut up about one of the aforementioned romantic attachments, John didn’t tell me to get over it and get a life; he was there to be the shoulder to cry on. He’d already been there…with me, and with others before me. He understands what its like because he went through all that nonsense when I was just a glint in my dad’s eye. He understands and knows, even when I think he doesn’t. Like some practical non-whistling Jimminy Cricket, he’s put me right on all manner of things.
WH Auden wrote: “I thought that love would last forever. I was wrong”. Impertinent though it may be to suggest that Mr Auden is wrong, perhaps he didn’t have friends and ‘logical family’, like my John. Yes, we hope that love will last forever, but the love I feel for my friends has so far endured beyond any romantic attachment. Of course romantic love can last a long time, even after the other person is nothing more than a stain on the sofa that you really should get cleaned. But the affection we feel for friends, that familiar loyalty that grows around our closest chums is different from romantic love. And living with John has made me realise that it isn’t a concession, it’s altogether different. And it’s great. I’m not sure if that’s terribly old fashioned or terribly modern, but either way I wouldn’t change it, or him, for the world.
Stephen Duffy presents the Jazz House on BBC Radio Scotland
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