Kathy Lette: My boyfriend turned out to be gay and we became even better friends

As the Dykes on Bikes roared past me on Sydney’s Oxford Street, the crowd erupted into applause. I asked the surrounding gay guys why the Dykes on Bikes always kicked off the Mardi Gras. “Respect,” they chorused.

They then explained the grim history. At a time when the queer community was being targeted with homophobic violence and harassment, and gay and bisexual men were being murdered at beats, the Dykes patrolled the streets around Sydney’s gay district on their two-wheeled steeds, helping to scare away aggressors and rescue injured men.

The recent joyous World Pride celebrations prove how much more progressive society has become, but this story is a stark reminder that coming out of the closet was once a very courageous thing to do.

No wonder it could take a man a long time to admit that he was strictly dickly. Some didn’t even dare admit it to themselves. Which is how so many women, including me, ended up in relationships with gay men.

Of course, looking back, there were early warning signs. My then-new boyfriend drank multicoloured cocktails (with little umbrellas in them), could name non-standard colours and knew more of ABBA’s lyrics than I did. He was emotionally articulate, impeccably well-groomed and could have given dance lessons to Michael Jackson. Basically, he was one in a million – an eligible, heterosexual man in full-time employment. It was a wonder he hadn’t been stripped down and sold for parts.

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With Dan’s chiselled good looks and prime pectoral real estate (the man had serious pecs appeal), I’d initially presumed he was way out of my league. But he seemed to enjoy my company – and he wanted a lot of it. Opera, theatre, ballet, galleries …

The only trouble was that I seemed to fly right under his R-rated radar. Dan was so gorgeous he could excite passion in a large geological formation. Yep, he was a “sex object” all right – as in, I wanted sex and he objected to it.

His excuse was that his triathlon training left him exhausted. But it was hard to just “cuddle on the couch” when my libido had swelled to the size of Paraguay. However, the bloke was so perfect in every other way, I overlooked these slight misgivings.