Being a George Michael fan has never been easy.

I started to love George’s music when I was going through a difficult time (and by love, I mean be irrationally and wildly obsessed). I used to sit in the reference section in the school library and read about his world records. There were scrapbooks. There might have been times when I listened to the same song over and over for days, weeks and months until I must have driven my parents mad (but they never said!)

When I made it through that difficult time, I discovered that I still absolutely adored George and his music. That combination of sexy but insecure kept me listening (for the feet and for the heart). I liked his political activism and I loved his philanthropy. He did so much for others. He brought me so much joy. I can’t explain the alchemy of the bond but goodness it was strong.

But still, it’s never easy being his fan. First he went silent for years. In that dark time while he fought Sony I discovered through email lists (Yogmael, Planet George!) that I was not alone or unique at all – that there was a huge number of Yogaholics out there and many with a story like mine. We clung together sharing glimpses of him in our daily life (“I heard Freedom 90 at the video store today!”). We knew the names of his dogs. Enough said. You also knew he always felt bad about how difficult it was. There were gifts for fans, apology missives and lovely exclusives that managed to keep us adoring (preaching to the converted!).

When I started university I discovered in journal articles scholars had written content analyses of all his work (I remember ‘baby’ was the most oft used word) and there were academic pieces on the mis en scene of ‘Father Figure’. Articles never as kind as I thought they should be. As I progressed through my law degree, I devoured (with anger on his behalf) the Sony verdict and delighted when new music was available once more. Still, at every party or outing, his music filled the floor.  No one could get people dancing like his music could.

And all this time lovely friends and family indulged me.

If I had a dollar for every man who said to me ‘You know he’s gay, right?’ I would be quite rich by now. It was the music that mattered and my chances of success with George were the same as theirs, pretty slim. It was a pretty good test for a kindred spirit though. So many sneered, so many put him, and me, down.

Ridiculous things happened, but George always emerged articulate, self-deprecating and smiling on the other side. His public outing was magnificent and sad. I felt so proud about how he handled it but was so sad about how nasty people were. Really, they’ve never stopped being nasty about George. He made bold moves and sometimes the results soared and sometimes they failed spectacularly. Oh, the London Olympics. I’d never been prouder than when he sang ‘Freedom 90’, it was as if everything had been worth it and he was back. My phone ran off the hook, I was crying, we were all singing. Then he sang a new song and it was back to, ah, George, maybe that wasn’t the right move. I still marvel over Eli Stone. How did that happen? How marvellous it was.

I finally saw George in concert in 2008. I was pregnant with my second child and flew to New York (leaving husband and two year old at home) and it was just amazing, his talent was astounding. Then he surprised us all by actually announcing a tour of Australia and I got to see George in my home country at last.

Now, I’m reading the words I’ve always wanted to see and it’s too late. There has always been such cruelty. To finally see the extraordinary chart success, the thoughtful analysis, the acclaim, what he did for the LBGTQ communities acknowledged, how he made a difference to so many through his kindness . . . it’s so wonderful and so terrible. I wish so much that he could see it all.

A key ingredient of being a George Michael fan is quite literally faith. We always believe that a new song is coming, that a tour might be in the offing  . . .

Living without that underlying faith now is going to be a little tricky.