The moment I knew: he bared his soul in a performance, and I fell for his sensitive side

The Guardian

12-04-2025

Nobody spoke about being gay in Ireland. I come from a big Catholic family – six kids, millions of cousins – from a rural part of the country, and I didn't think there was anyone like me. Although my parents and family have been unwavering in their support from the day I came out in 2001, they also understood my need to leave a country where, back then, a religion that didn't recognise me was so dominant.
Cities like Sydney are queer beacons, and when a career opportunity arose I moved to a job at St Vincent's hospital. That's when I met Mitch, at a Mardi Gras party.
I'm a cardiologist with a specialist interest in the cardiac effects of HIV/Aids. Mitch is an HIV research scientist. In the 80s, St Vincent's pioneered HIV/Aids treatment and care in Australia and I'm proud to work in the country's first HIV cardiac clinic.
Mitch and I were friends for years before we started dating. One day, when he picked me up in his old banger of a car to go on our third date, I noticed sheets of music among dumped takeaway cartons in the footwell. I asked: 'Do you play an instrument?' He dismissively said he sometimes played piano.
I didn't think anything of it until a year later, when Mitch's housemates threw a party for his 30th birthday. He had an electric keyboard that he played while wearing headphones, but not even Mitch's best friends or mother had heard him play. After a lot of drinks and cajoling, Mitch reluctantly sat down at his keyboard. We were expecting something simple like Chopsticks. Mitch casually played the entire opening prologue of Disney's Beauty and the Beast, The Enchantress version. Everyone was gobsmacked. I remember sitting there overwhelmed, thinking, this is the person I've got to marry.
Mitch had been quietly training himself since he was six years old. He composes too. Mitch bared his soul in that performance. I completely fell for a sensitive side I'd never seen. Later, when we got engaged, I bought Mitch his first grand piano.
I think growing up gay, you become good at hiding things. Although Mitch had grown up in a relatively gay-friendly city, queer rights in Sydney were hard fought, and he had struggles too. We've both stood in front of a mirror at some point practising saying, 'I'm gay.' We both know how it feels to be ignored by society, government, institutions and even the health industry.
Surprisingly, same-sex marriage was legalised in Ireland in 2015 – two years before Australia. When Mitch first came back to my hometown of Cashel in Tipperary with me, he understood how special it is. He loved the sing-songs, the little house parties with all the relatives. He said he'd love to have a big Irish wedding.
We chose the gardens of the Cashel Palace hotel for the ceremony. Ironically, back in the 17th century, it was the archbishop's residence. Its grandness is dwarfed by one of Ireland's most famous castles – the Rock of Cashel – which sits above on a limestone outcrop and was once the seat of Celtic kings.
A couple of days before our wedding, I arranged a traditional music session at my local pub to welcome Mitch's family and friends from Sydney. All the local farmers lined up to shake our hands. I thought they would tiptoe around us. I was completely wrong.
Then, when we arrived at the Palace, a massive rainbow flag was flying at the gates between Irish and Australian flags. A sight I never thought I'd see. While we were getting ready, my mum said loads of people from the town gathered and were taking pictures of the flag. To top it all, as night fell, the Rock of Cashel lit up in bright pink. I still don't know who made that happen.
As a teen, gayness wasn't visible. Maybe underneath it all, people were always accepting. Now I see pride flags flying in towns everywhere. Mitch composed an original piece about it all for our first anniversary. It's called Sunrise.
We've been living together in Sydney for six years now, with our dog Joleen. Mitch no longer wears headphones to play the piano. Our neighbours sometimes sit outside with a glass of wine to listen, until Joleen decides to 'sing' along.
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