nne and I met in Melbourne in 1997 when we were cast in a production of Hamlet. We were both single and playing onstage lovers. The first time I saw her in the Melbourne Theatre Company cafeteria, she had a sleepy, grumpy face. I still recall those intense, slightly scary green eyes looking at me. I thought to myself: she is very attractive, but also quite formidable.
At first it was a little awkward, but humour was the key. We'd sit on the dusty rehearsal room floor in our tracksuits while the director was working with another actor. Instead of practising our lines, we'd flip through the faded 70s magazines left in the corner and make jokes about what the models in flares or with chopped beards might be saying as they shot the images.
One day by chance I flipped to the horoscopes. I asked Anne what the stars could have in store for us in 1972. She told me her sign was Scorpio – the same as mine. My aim was just to laugh at the bullshit of horoscopes but when I read it out, it stopped me cold: "You have met someone now through work who will be one of the most important people in your life, perhaps a partner and soulmate."
It was weird and uncanny but we just laughed it off. I felt embarrassed because it sounded like some kind of calculated romantic ploy. I quickly flicked to the next page but somewhere in my brain I knew it was the truth.
Later, when the show was well under way, we were walking along St Kilda Road after a performance. We stopped at the lights and I summoned the courage to say: "I think I've got one of those crushes on you." She looked at me and said: "Well, that's good. Isn't it?"
I took her cryptic and understated response as confirmation she felt the same way. It is very much her style – and I liked that it had a question mark on the end of it.
After the show closed our connection grew and we officially became a couple, filling our days and nights with dinner and theatre dates. She was living with her sister and I was living in this big groovy warehouse in Richmond with other actors. I liked that when she'd come to my place, the bohemian setting made me look a bit more impressive and artistic than I was.
Early on, we went on a hiking trip to Wilsons Prom. We were massively overpacked and it quickly emerged that neither of us was good at camping. As soon as we got back to the car we made a beeline to KFC and gorged ourselves on fried chicken after days of miserable camping stodge, secretly thankful we weren't in nature any more.
Anne was violently ill all the way back – all that rich food after rehydrated dust! We both exposed ourselves as kind of daggy on that trip, and that was OK.
Anne and I share a clown-like heart that over the decades has helped us through hard times. Big life events like losing a parent have been somewhat easier because there's a levity and lightness Anne brings – never letting me go into the dark places or stay there for too long.
Since meeting in that rehearsal room we've spent almost 30 years together, had two children and performed all over the world. Romantic love has its seasons, but really loving someone also has to do with trust. I trust her implicitly, she trusts me, and we don't let each other down. We always show up for each other when it matters. We help each other realise our own dreams. That's the thing about having a teammate you can rely on – it's priceless.
We met working with each other as theatre artists, which we're still doing now after all these years. A magazine from the 70s with an out-of-date horoscope written by a charlatan brought us together. I don't believe in horoscopes … but I do believe in that one.