Born in Plymouth in 1948, Wayne Sleep is a dancer and media personality. At 12, he won a scholarship to the Royal Ballet School in London, and made his stage debut with the company at 17. In the 1970s and 80s he became one of the industry’s most prominent dancers, creating the role of Mr Mistoffelees in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s hit Cats, and dancing with Princess Diana at the Royal Opera House – one of many collaborations with the royal family. Wayne lives in London with his husband, José Bergera. His memoir, Just Different, is out now.
Wayne
This photo was taken on holiday in Spain. José and I had been together for a year by this point – I was working on an ambitious show called The History of Dance and had asked him to be my dresser, just to give him something to do. There was a lot of fighting in the wings: I’d come off stage and he’d say: “First, trousers!” and I’d say: “No, shirt!” We would row, but I’d have to do it his way. The whole experience was exhausting. He’d walk around London after the performance. I’d think: “Where on earth has he gone?” He’d come back at 4am, still angry. No wonder his father called him TNT. José had a short fuse, but over the years he’s mellowed.
I met José in Spain in the summer of 1998, while visiting a wonderful natural reserve beach with miles of sand dunes; very romantic. There was a bohemian restaurant selling fresh sardines on the beach, one with posh magazines on the coffee tables and an electronic dart board that I went on to break by throwing the darts from under my legs and over my head. It turned out to be José’s bar.
The morning after I met José, I was on the beach reading. He sat down next to me and went “Hola!” I thought: “Oh, you’re the man from last night!” The first shock was that he was 20 years younger than me. The second was he didn’t know who I was. Someone eventually showed him a copy of Hello! magazine which had pictures of me in it, but he didn’t care. He wanted me for me, not for my success, unlike a few other people. Still, I wasn’t sure. It was love at first sight for him, but he was so much younger and I worried about getting hurt.
A month after I came back to England, I got a phone call from José. He couldn’t speak English, but had a dictionary with him. I would hear the rustle of him turning pages, and he would whistle to himself while he found the right word. I felt something change in my heart. After that, José came to England on a one-way ticket. I remember jumping across Victoria station to get the train to Gatwick airport to meet him. I was in such high spirits and I didn’t know why. It was as if I’d taken drugs. It was then I realised I had fallen in love.
When he arrived in the UK, I would take José everywhere with me. I was doing a production called 90 Years of Dance for the Queen and Princess Margaret, and we had to go over a few things before the show. It was a baptism of fire for him, being around so many posh people, so I went to Russell & Bromley to get him some smart shoes. He wouldn’t wear them. When we arrived, Princess Margaret immediately grabbed him to dance because he was the prettiest boy there. I said, “I’m so sorry that he is wearing Dr Martens, ma’am.” She said, “Oh don’t worry, Wayne, I once danced with a man in spurs. He ruined the parquet flooring!”
José’s parents didn’t know he was gay, but when he told them we got a letter in response. I burst into tears when I read it. His father said: “I don’t care what you are or who you are, because you are my son.” My mother had died a few years before I met José. I had hidden my sexuality from her, and it was a wonderful feeling to come out and be myself at last. In a way, I felt as if she had sent José to me. I was very lonely until I met him. I’d done so many tours around the world and all of my friends had stopped phoning as they’d never get an answer. I’d get back home and be completely on my own.
I’m not romantic. I always say, “José married for love, I married for money!” Or more accurately, I married so I wouldn’t have to pay any capital gains tax. But also, José is a lovely person. In my contract from God, it says: “No ironing, no cleaning, no cooking, no washing.” He is such a wonderful baker. I’ve got to obey God, haven’t I?
Falling in love with José made me softer and more patient and tolerant. I used to hold a grudge against people who weren’t doing things properly. It was as if I was trying to make up for my childhood, which was lower working-class. In a restaurant, I would always make a stand: “Why is this food so cold?” It wasn’t very nice. Now I do it quietly and politely, and José warns me when I’m over the top. That being said, he is always one to speak his mind. If we go to see a show that isn’t good I keep my mouth shut. Meanwhile, José would turn to the director and say: “That was crap, wasn’t it?”
José
My only memory of the day that photo was taken was that I was happy and in love. I am as in love now as I was 25 years ago. Cheesy, but it’s true.
Even though it was the start of our relationship, I wouldn’t call it a honeymoon period. I was fighting with my sexuality. I knew I liked men, but I was scared because society was telling me to get married and have children. I thought: “Oh my God, I have met this guy, I am instantly in love. Once I say I’m gay, there is no going back, and if I don’t do it now, I’ll never do it.” Spain was a homophobic place to grow up – there was, and still is, a very macho mentality. Eventually, my family found out and I felt relieved. The heaviness on my shoulders disappeared.
I didn’t know anything about Wayne when we met. I had no idea he was famous. I just liked that he was very handsome, different and funny. After he left for England, I followed him. It was meant to be for two weeks, but I stayed for ever.
Watching him on stage for the first time was amazing. His lifestyle was a whole new culture to me, and while I couldn’t speak any English, I was lucky to be with Wayne because he was holding my hand. It was nerve-racking, but I felt safe.
As much as I am defiant, I am also caring – very Latin when it comes to love. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I want to kill him. We argue like any normal couple. He has his own friends, I have my own friends and we have mutual friends. It’s healthy for us to have our own space. As for the age difference, he is the teenager, and I am the adult. I think too much, all the time. Wayne says: “You’re going to have a heart attack! Enjoy life, have fun, relax.” He is always the one to cheer me up, and for that I am very grateful.
