In Dubai the penalty for kissing in public is a month in jail. It doesn’t matter if you have been married for 50 years, you may not kiss your spouse in public. Of course, if you have been married for 50 years, you probably don’t want to kiss your spouse in private either.

You may not even hold hands in public. Need I say, that these laws are aimed at heterosexual couples. There are much scarier laws aimed at homosexual couples.

As two gay men of a certain age (let’s say in our fifties!) these are restrictions we grew up with. But the dark ages are slowly receding and people are now free to love whomever they choose …. in some countries. Dubai is not one of them. Homosexuality in Dubai is illegal and the penalties are harsh.

And yet we are in Dubai, risking life and limb to spend a night here.

We are booked in to a Jumeirah Hotel. Unfortunately not their iconic and breathtakingly expensive Burj Al Arab, but still a Jumeirah Hotel. We approach the front desk. Not only do we not hold hands, but we straighten our limp wrists, make no eye contact, and leave a space of several feet between us. No one would ever know that we are gay! A handsome young man in his thirties looking rather dashing in a suit and tie, checks us in. He is a little on the short side, a little on the slim side, and a little on the charming side. Of course, I notice none of these things.

What I do notice, is the not so pleasant gentleman hovering just behind . He is tall and menacing with hooded brown eyes, a well trimmed beard and and a large moustache. He is dressed in the traditional ankle length white robe and matching headscarf. He is paying careful attention to our transaction. There is probably a long curved dagger hidden under his robe, among other things. The handsome young man may be taking our details, but he is definitely not the one in charge.

Then, out of the blue, the handsome young man asks us if we would prefer one bed or two. For a moment I am speechless. I hesitate for way too long, while I consider the ramifications of my answer. But having been asked, I assume I can chose, and so I do.

“One bed would be fine” I reply, in my deepest baritone.

There is a sharp intake of breath from both Gordon and the menacing man. He reaches for whatever is causing the bulge under his white robe…… and adjusts it (the menacing man, not Gordon). His hooded eyes become narrow slits. He should be in movies. He is terrifying.

He says nothing, but his eyes never leave me.

The nice young man appears oblivious to the tension that hangs heavily in the air and hands us the key. He wishes us an enjoyable stay

A few hours later, Gordon and I retire to bed. It is not until now that we notice another bedroom door. This one is not in the wall, and we have no key for it.

In the ceiling above the bed, at a rather strange angle, is a large pair of ornately carved wooden doors with big brass handles . It is directly above us, and it is very disconcerting.

Why are there doors in the ceiling? What is their purpose? And what could possibly be behind them? Our imaginations run riot. We move as far away from each other as the bed will allow.

We lie there motionless, eyes fixated on the doors.

At the merest suggestion of any impropriety on our part, we are convinced the doors will fly open and reveal the menacing man with hooded eyes staring straight down at us, wielding his very large dagger. Sleep does not come easily.

I should have asked for twin beds

Or better yet, separate rooms.