The moment I knew: I’d had lots of lovers during our open relationship – then I realised I could trust him with my life

In 1996 I was riding high as a Sydney-based photographer exploring sexual and cultural identity and touring the world with my photographic slideshow performances. I was used to having admirers – groupies not so much.

I was on tour in Brisbane when members of a gay and lesbian alliance made a group booking and invited me to a party after my show. One of the members, Scott, was assigned as my chaperone. He was tall, handsome and youthful. In the taxi back to my hotel after the party, I asked Scott if he wanted to visit me the next day. He said yes. As I got out of the taxi, I held his finger as a goodbye gesture. It seemed a tenuous connection.

But the next day Scott turned up at my hotel room overlooking the Brisbane River. He was in his 20s and I was in my 50s but I found his intellectual curiosity and passion for gay politics immensely attractive. When the talking was over, we lay on the bed and kissed for a long time; nothing further – Scott was someone who didn’t like to be rushed.

A few weeks later he came to visit me in Sydney, where it became clear our 30-year age gap was just the start of our differences. I’m a bleeding-heart artist with a hard edge, while Scott’s head was always in a book about history, science or visual art. I was relieved, however, that he liked classical music – the last thing I wanted was to wake up to someone playing gay disco anthems over breakfast.

Over the following months and years, we fell into the rhythm of a long-distance relationship, visiting each other every couple of months – I’d stay in his sharehouse in Brisbane, and he’d come to my home in Sydney. Together, Scott and I would visit art galleries, go to shows, meet up for holidays and go on meandering bushwalks – me taking photos, Scott lending a forensic eye to the plants we passed. Although we maintained an open relationship, Scott and I began introducing each other to friends and family as “my boyfriend” or “my partner”. But the most important thing we had in common was we both liked living alone. Neither of us wanted to live in the other’s pocket.

Then, in 2010, my brother Alan died suddenly in Brisbane. Amid the shock and grief I found myself in charge of arranging the funeral. There were hundreds of things to do. As family tensions resurfaced when my sister and nephew flew out from the United States, Scott was by my side as a stabilising presence. After the funeral we still hadn’t found Alan’s will, but Scott used his clerical skills to methodically trawl through Alan’s papers until he found it. I’d had lots of lovers, but during this crisis I realised Scott was someone I could depend on – who I wanted in my life.

Getting older has made me re-evaluate what I look for in a relationship, and trust is the number one quality. Although we continue to live in separate states of Australia and keep our relationship open, six years ago I gave Scott power of attorney, which is the act of giving your life over to another person. To me, it’s a bigger commitment than marriage.

Janine Israel contributed to this article

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