DANIEL (PLEASE DON'T GO)

Well, we got talking to this older gay bloke about what it was like growing up in his generation. The early eighties, mostly. And bloody hell, we thought we'd had it rough sometimes.

He was telling us about the law, the police, the stigma and how frightened people were of being found out. Apparently, being gay wasn't exactly illegal in England by then, but if you were a young lad under twenty-one, you could still get into serious trouble for having sex with another bloke. Imagine that. Old enough to work, pay taxes and fall in love, but not old enough to do anything about it.

And that was just the law. There was all the other stuff as well. Getting beaten up, being frightened of your family finding out, having to watch every word you said. Even places where gay men went to meet one another weren't necessarily safe from the police.

It sounded bloody awful, to be honest.

Funny thing was, we got the impression he thought everything had been sorted out for our generation. That we could just go about our lives without a care in the world.

Well, yes, things are better. Much better. We can be more open, we can meet people, we can sing about whoever we bloody well like. But young gay lads still get bullied at school, still get shouted at in the street and still worry about how people are going to react when they tell them who they are.

Different times, perhaps. But some things haven't changed nearly enough.

Anyway, Frankie reckoned he was only talking to us because he fancied Jack. Jack said he was just being friendly. Joe said Jack wouldn't know if somebody fancied him unless they arrived with a written declaration and two witnesses.

Bingo just nodded.

Anyway, that's not the point.

He started telling us about this lad called Daniel. His first proper love, although Daniel didn't know it. They worked together, went to the pub together, played pool and became really good mates. But he was terrified of telling Daniel how he actually felt.

Then Daniel got another job and moved away.

And that was that.

Except it wasn't, because our new friend went home, sat at his keyboard and wrote a song about him.

Now here's the bit that really got us. He told us he was frightened to sing the word him. Just three little letters. Because if somebody heard him singing about loving another man, they might realise he was gay.

Imagine being frightened of a bloody pronoun.

We talked about that for ages. How something so ordinary could carry so much fear, and how writing a song might actually be the first time you managed to tell yourself the truth.

He showed us some of the original lyrics and chords, and we started playing around with them. We kept parts of his song, changed others and gradually turned it into Daniel (Please Don't Go).

Not because we'd lived through the same things, but because we understood some of the feelings. Loving somebody you can't have, being frightened of losing them and wishing you'd said something before it was too late.

It's a bit sad, really.

But we're glad he told us.

And we're glad he can say him now without being frightened.

Keep the faith, old guy!

ZESTY FOREVER!

Daniel (Please Don't Go) was developed from an earlier song written by John E. Goldring in the 1980s, retaining and reworking elements of its original lyrics and chords. The story behind that composition is told in his autobiographical short story, Him.

Read the original story: Him — link to be added when published on Difraxity.