Imagine spending your childhood thinking that you would grow up, fall in love and live happily ever after.
Imagine discovering that what everyone else is excited about not only leaves you cold but seems a bit, well, unnatural. Put the kettle on.
Imagine falling head over heels in love and discovering that it isn’t to be shouted from the roof-tops, but brings an unimagined hatred and viciousness from people you thought knew and loved you. Friends. Relatives. People in your faith community.
Imagine people debating whether or not you should or ought to love, as if the decision was not your own, or you were some specimen in a jar surrounded by Junior House Doctors.
Imagine being allowed to love, but not allowed to express it. Legally.
Imagine being silently told that you may so do, quietly, under the radar, because you’re OK even if your sexuality is a bit suspect. Besides, we need somebody to…
Imagine reading about people fighting in small congregations right through to white papers in parliament about your private life – or lack thereof.
Imagine hearing endless arguments about how and where and when you might celebrate your love, from those who take theirs for granted.
Imagine longing for your holiday, but dreading bumping into anybody you know on it.
Imagine watching the world and it’s wife celebrating together, when they’ve forbidden you that self-same chance.