Yes, sometimes my life does seem particularly scripted. My very own reality show, fortunately more in the vein of a light situational comedy most times rather than a hysterical tragi-drama. Let's face it, coming-out storylines shown on our television screens are usually fraught with drama, suspense and the occasional suicide pact.
Not exactly the walk-into-the-sunset happy ending we're all looking for.
Though I did toy with the idea of coming out to my mother on the crowded steps of Piccadilly Circus moments before sprinting into the tube station hand-in-hand with Charming Calvin, I figured that piece of wild fantasy would border on a silly farce the likes of Benny Hill.
Paul : Pardon? Were you inquiring after my friend Calvin?
So perhaps a change of venue to the pretty little cottage home of our hosts in the picturesque English countryside? Granted I already figured that revealing such a momentous though poorly hidden secret in the their presence would seem a tad ungrateful. Why, my hosts are English - a Mr and Mrs Smith no less - and they certainly wouldn't allow such a surfeit of unbecoming histrionics in their proper household! What would the neighbours think!
With Charming Calvin and I unobtrusively playing footsie under the dinner table every night, it didn't take Mrs Smith very long to ascertain the situation at hand. Racked with curiousity since we weren't inclined to confirm or deny any accusations, Sadie Smith found the time to have a spot of tea with my mother.
Mrs Smith : Oh so who is this friend of his? Calvin?
Mother : Yes, Calvin.
Mrs Smith : Quiet lil fellow. Have they known each other long?
Mother : Mother : Yes, he has been Paul's friend for quite a long while.
Mrs Smith : Comes over often?
Mother : All the time! Calvin's practically a part of the family.
Mrs Smith : That close?
Mother : Almost an adopted son.
Obviously not the answer Sadie Smith was looking for.
Not the one I wanted to hear either. Like any other soap opera out there, there was someone busy eavesdropping several feet away of course. This time it was me - and I leaned surreptitiously against the kitchen door with bated breath to listen to the conversation.
Of course with such pivotal moments transpiring in the next room, Charming Calvin remained oblivious, utterly engrossed with his feast of butter scones, apricot jam and freshly picked apples.