I’m keeping my boyfriend a secret from my parents… I don’t want to keep lying but I fear they won’t approve. It’s time to come clean, warns BEL MOONEY, or you could lose them all

Dear Bel,

My family was close and religious – no confusion about how life was supposed to unfold. You worked hard, respected your parents, built a career and married someone who shared your faith and values. Relationships before marriage weren’t in the conversation.

My parents are good people. They’ve sacrificed an enormous amount for my brothers and me, and everything they’ve done has come from love. That’s why I find this so difficult. It would be much easier if I felt angry with them.

Last year, I graduated and moved to London for my first proper job. It was the first time I’d lived away from home and, although excited, I also felt guilty. My mum still rings most evenings to ask whether I’ve eaten properly and whether I’m getting enough sleep.

Six months ago, I met someone at work. He’s kind, listens more than he talks and has never once laughed when I’ve tried to explain why I’m hesitant over things other couples probably wouldn’t think twice about.

He’s never pressured me. If anything, he’s been more patient than I deserve. Part of me wants to let the relationship develop naturally.

Another part hears my mother’s voice reminding me that some choices can’t easily be taken back. Sometimes he reaches for my hand and, for a split second, I feel wonderfully happy.

Then almost immediately I feel guilty. It’s exhausting.

I’ve become good at lying by omission. If Mum rings while we’re together, I tell her I’m out with colleagues. If she asks what I did at the weekend, I mention a museum but not who I went with. Every lie is small, yet afterwards I feel I’ve betrayed someone. Because I also feel I’m being unfair to him.

He’s dating someone who can’t invite him to meet her family, who sometimes pulls away because she’s worrying about everything.

A few weeks ago, he told me he wasn’t asking me to choose between him and my family. He simply hoped that one day, I wouldn’t feel I had to choose between different parts of myself.

I don’t want to lose my faith because it has shaped who I am. I don’t want to lose my family because they’re the people I love most in the world.

But I also don’t want to walk away from someone who has shown me nothing but patience and kindness. I’m falling in love with him and know he feels the same, but I don’t know what to do.

– Aisha

Bel replies: This is such a touching letter and I feel such sympathy for your painful dilemma. You did not specify which faith it is that you were brought up to practise and yet I recognised your name as Arabic, concluded you must be Muslim but thought it advisable to check.

As a result of that message you’ve explained that you cover your head when at home because your loving parents expect it, but when out and about at work and with your boyfriend you don’t – and actually love experimenting with different styles.

That fact alone is a vivid proof of why you feel so caught between two cultures – and anybody must be able to see how painful it is. Your boyfriend’s remark that he ‘hoped that one day, I wouldn’t feel I had to choose between different parts of myself’ is extremely perceptive and wise. The trouble is, you know in your heart and in your head that such a choice is already upon you.

You have met a lovely guy who is kind, patient and understanding, and wonderful company too. It’s clear you have a lot in common, so it’s no wonder that you are falling in love.

The trouble is, your religion is a huge (some people might say indivisible) part of who you are.

Your love for your family is also not in question and it seems clear you would do anything to avoid hurting them.

What else is this already but an emotional and spiritual choice which puts you on the rack?

It’s perfectly normal for parents deeply involved with religion – whether Jewish, Sikh, Muslim, Hindu, Roman Catholic, Evangelical or whatever – to hope their offspring form lasting unions within the faith. That happiness affirms everybody’s reality, with few complications.

But of course, the serious objection we would all make is when coercion is involved. Your boyfriend is, sadly, forced to listen to you fibbing to your mother on the phone, as if he were something to be ashamed of.

Of course, that’s not how you feel at all but I fear it will become worse for him as time passes.

And your agonising feelings of guilt can only increase, as you are aware of betraying both sides at the same time.

I realise these words aren’t exactly helpful but it would be lazy of me to make soothing noises and say it’ll all be fine.

It seems to me you have no option but to talk honestly with your mother. It would be wrong for the lying to continue because the strain could make you ill.

My wish is that she will listen and try to understand, and your father and siblings can gradually be informed about what is happening. My hope is that you will be heard with generosity and love – although I realise that may not be the case.

Looking ahead, it might be possible, if this love continues and deepens, that your boyfriend would consider converting, a process acceptable within your faith, as long as it is truly sincere.

Whatever lies ahead, I don’t think you can avoid the conversations for very much longer. I pray it may be possible to inhabit two worlds, loving both. Inshallah.

Discussing emotions is just too difficult

Dear Bel,

My problem is probably going to sound stupid but I can’t help it. In a nutshell, I find it very hard to talk about feelings.

We seem to live in a world where everybody’s emoting all the time. There’s no end to it – celebrities on about their mental health and giving away the most private emotions.

Sometimes, I read stuff in the Daily Mail which I can’t help feeling shouldn’t even be there – I mean the ‘tell-all’ emotional pieces about sex and marriage and parenthood. Like we’re all inside some giant confessional with no-holds-barred.

I often wonder if those people aren’t embarrassed to face their friends after admitting how often they have sex with their partners. Of course, my wife reads all that stuff.

You’ll say I’m a buttoned-up male – maybe you’re right – but I know it’s not good. My wife doesn’t exactly say I’m letting her down but I know she feels it.

When she shares her feelings about, say, a family member’s problem, saying how upsetting she finds it, I want to change the subject. Because what can I do about it? Nothing.

Sometimes, I wish you’d just tell people to pull themselves together. Don’t you get sick of the complaining? Do you think the idea of the ‘stiff upper lip’ should be brought back? But what can I do when people want to share?

– Jason 

Bel replies: You don’t like talking about feelings but clearly feel that’s problematic, so you’re writing to me about feelings instead of talking with feeling to your wife. OK!

But seriously, I do think this issue affects more men than women – and because it can certainly get in the way of good relationships, it’s worth considering here.

At the end, you thrust three questions at me, so let’s deal with each one in turn. You say you’re often embarrassed by ‘confessional’ articles, but if I assure you that a great many readers love them, especially women, then you’ll understand why they’re there.

Our newspaper is read by a wide range of people, and the Daily Mail has especially appealed to women since it was founded in 1896.

Asking me whether I get fed up with ‘moaning’ is understandable. No. If I did, I’d be totally unsuited to this job, whereas in fact I become increasingly pragmatic and sad about human nature as the years pass. Otherwise I might suggest you just ‘man up’ and listen to your wife. I believe there is a time for a ‘stiff upper lip’ and agree that our society encourages too much agonising over personal problems, which may or may not be real.

I wish parents and schools encouraged resilience instead of a conviction that ordinary sadness is a mental health issue that needs therapy.

We baby boomers had to learn to ‘get on with it’ and I wish there was more of that in the young.

So what can you do when people want to share feelings with unwilling you? Brace yourself, Jason – you have to start to learn how to listen.

Your big mistake is thinking you are expected to ‘do anything’ and therefore wanting to run a mile if, say, a friend confides that he’s worried about a wayward son. All you have to do is hear him out with sympathy. It will make you a better, bigger person.

As for your wife… come on! You know perfectly well what you have to do. Listen, make sympathetic noises, tell her she’s wonderfully kind and has a lot to teach you – then give her a massive hug. It really isn’t that hard.

And finally… music really IS the food of love, so play on! 

It often amazes me how much time, effort and money academics put into researching pretty pointless stuff. This week I read that scientists at an Austrian university had concluded that a shared taste in music can reveal far more about a couple’s compatibility than personality traits. Fancy! If you’re wild about Wagner and he’s into hip-hop, there may be trouble ahead.

There’s some obvious common sense there, but can’t we relish difference? Don’t aspects of personality – such as deep values – count for more than whether you think Clapton is God? Anyway, when you’re in love your musical tastes, even if very different, can gradually shift.

When my second husband and I married in 2007 we merged our precious collections of vinyl LPs, as well as CDs. The classical music was mine – but so was Gene Vincent, Bill Haley, Elvis, The Beatles, the Stones, Fairport Convention and the girl groups of the 1980s.

Robin brought Talking Heads, Ian Dury, The Stranglers, Pink Floyd, Radiohead, Hendrix etc. We had in common jazz, reggae and the blues, not to mention Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan and Carole King. Phew! A week ago we enjoyed Carmen at ‘If Opera’ in Wiltshire.

Over the time that we have been sharing our variety of music, I have received hundreds of letters from couples whose marriages have gone stale. In a rut, they seem to have accepted that conversation is limited to exchanges about what to eat and what to watch on TV.

They’re bored and it’s sad. So why not re-discover music together? Go to the pub where a young guitarist is playing. Dig out a disc taking you back to when you were young – and maybe your hearts will lift. Look at listings and try booking something totally new. Make all music your food of love.

Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 9 Derry Street, London W8 5HY, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. Names are changed to protect identities. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.