Neil Bartlett and James Gardiner on their open relationship

Lust drove theatre director Neil Bartlett and writer James Gardiner together 25 years ago. Now they have an open relationship – and a love of gardening and coffee

HIS STORY Neil Bartlett, 55, theatre director

I was looking in a mirror, taking off my body make-up, when I caught sight of James over my shoulder. Shaven hair, moustache, muscles: I felt instant lust. We were in the dressing room of the Drill Hall in London where I had just performed a piece I had written. It featured me and a backing trio of drag artists, one of whom – Bette Bourne – was friends with James. James asked Bette for my number and he came to see me at my flat on the Isle of Dogs. Dinner was rather late that night.

It was 1989 and I was 30. It was an extraordinary atmosphere in which to meet. The UK was in the grip of the Aids epidemic and a wave of homophobia. We were both involved in campaigning for gay rights and James was caring for his then partner, who was very ill with HIV.

Within a year of meeting James he slipped a second- hand wedding ring on my finger and I have never taken it off. It was engraved with “Agnes and Paul” and he added our initials when we got civilly partnered in 2006. We have never taken the straight ideal of a monogamous life-long relationship as being a relevant model for us. Our lives have always included other close friendships and sexual relationships.

We are both wretched insomniacs and coffee addicts. Sitting in our garden sharing the first espresso of the day is when I’m at my happiest. I love to take long walks in the country, but James takes a very dim view of that. After 25 years you agree to disagree.

I value his love, his gift for caring and how he sings early Barbra Streisand first thing in the morning. Oh, and his habit of buying me beautiful jewellery. There are still times when he walks into the room and my heart skips a beat. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve him.

HIS STORY James Gardiner, 67, writer

The first time I saw Neil he was naked on stage. I thought he was dead sexy. It’s weird to meet people you’ve just seen in character so I was a bit shy when I saw him in the dressing room. We didn’t speak, but there was a lot of eye contact. The next day I called our mutual friend, Bette, and he said: “Oh God, I’ve had him on the phone, too, asking about you.” So I got Neil’s number and told him about a book on queer history I was researching.

We immediately got on so well. We functioned at the same emotional temperature, which is crucial to me. I’m emotional and hysterical and everything he does is with feeling. I’m half Maltese; I don’t know what his excuse is.

We couldn’t afford a house in London so we moved to Brighton in 1993. The house we bought was an old commercial laundry with a big strip of land that had been used for drying, surrounded by broken fences. My favourite time with Neil is making our garden together. We’ve made it into a series of exterior rooms by sectioning it off with walls and different planting – it’s absolutely beautiful now.

Neil is by nature really, really untidy. He throws everything everywhere. He’s had me moaning for over 20 years: “Pick that up! I’m not your servant!” But he’s very creative, he’s thinking all the time. So I run the practical side of our home. I see it as my contribution to the arts. He’s busy, why should he do all that?

What I most value about him is that he loves me. A few years ago I had cancer. And when my mother died that had a big effect on me. I think back and I don’t know how I would have coped without Neil. He’s very strong emotionally. He knows how to handle people.

The Disappearance Boy by Neil Bartlett (Bloomsbury, £16.99) is out now. To order a copy for £13.59 with free UK p&p, go to bookshop.theguardian.com

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