Why Christmas is the most miserable time to be a mistress: It will make women everywhere want to throw mince pies at her, but here the woman who had a secret seven-year affair with Gordon Ramsay risks the wrath of millions to give her a festive send-off fear of death

Wrapped in the loving arms of the tall, sturdy, tousled blond man, I was high on happiness. It was ten days before Christmas in 2007 and anyone who witnessed our tender embrace would probably assume two things. That we were in an exclusive relationship and that we slept together.

While the latter assumption was absolutely true, the former certainly was not.

I’m not proud to say it now, but the man I hugged was Gordon Ramsay, who then, as now, was very much married to Tana Ramsay, the mother of his then four children.

I was in my mid-30s living in Los Angeles, and Gordon was in town filming his TV series Hell’s Kitchen. On this particular visit in December, the chef I had dated for seven years presented me with a Christmas gift.

He flew in from Atlantic City and we met at a celebrity hotspot in LA, where we stayed in one of the luxury bungalows. The next morning there was a cozy familiarity between us.

I slipped past his driver (incognito) and told myself it was all part of the fun of the affair, spontaneous and exciting.

At age 37, our relationship was the longest, albeit most ill-advised, relationship I’ve ever had with a man (and it is, in fact, still the longest relationship I’ve ever had). But the passion I felt went hand in hand with feelings of acute loneliness. I had spent the last six Christmases alone, and on Christmas morning I never woke up next to the man I had fallen in love with, and now here I was again. Only.

Christmas is pathetically miserable when you’re involved with a married man. No matter how much you think they care about you, it’s their wife they always go back to on this most magical day of the year.

And the problem with those painfully long 24 hours is that you inevitably get too much time to think about it. The words from John Lennon’s Happy Xmas: ‘So this is Christmas/And what have you done? Another year gone…’ ran endlessly in my head, reminding me that I hadn’t done much. Other than that, wait for a man who was completely happy with his fate. Have his (Christmas) cake and eat it too.

That Christmas, all alone in Los Angeles, time almost stood still. My friends had left town with their loved ones and little ones to make precious memories with their families. Everyone always invites you, but who wants to be the spare tire on Christmas Day?

Furthermore, seeing couples would only emphasize what I didn’t have: a faithful and devoted man who loved me and wanted to be with me. Christmas is about spending time with the people you love – an idea I was very much reminded of that year.

During the day, I could only spend so many hours thinking back to the clandestine nights Gordon and I had spent together in various posh hotels in Los Angeles and London.

Too much thinking time made me realize that no matter how many hotel meetings we had, there was never any future.

As I ate a meal for one, nursed a glass of Chardonnay and opened a present my parents had sent from Britain while watching reruns of Sex And The City on TV, I knew I was fooling myself if I thought that next year it would be different.

I kept my cell phone close and jumped when it rang, but he didn’t call me on Christmas Day itself, as he hadn’t for six years before. As the day passed, many emotions went through me: sadness, emptiness and anger.

As much as it pains me to admit it, I would regularly “Google Gordon” to see where he was. Yes, I kept an eye on him – what mistress wouldn’t? I followed the gossip columnists and bloggers religiously to see where he was spotted (and with whom), and if he was on a television show, I would make damn sure I was watching it. At least that way I had something to talk about the next time we interacted. Of course, falling down the Gordon rabbit hole for hours (and hours) only ended up making me feel worse.

I was living a lifestyle that I thought I wanted. I was working on ideas for television formats at a Hollywood production company and I was with a man who made my heart flutter, even though he was very much married. I wanted a life for us – as “us” – and yet the reality was that I was only given crumbs, a glimpse of what that life could be.

It was then that I decided to put my laptop away because no good could come from focusing on what I didn’t have. I swore I would never spend Christmas alone again. Even if it means just pulling crackers with my parents in Wales.

During our on/off relationship, Gordon never asked me what I was doing for Christmas. And I never told him how awful that day always was.

Instead, when he called a few days later, I returned to my bright, cheerful personality and joked about the next time we would see each other.

Gordon and I met in the winter of 2001. I was 31 and working in sales for an events and limousine company in Belgravia, London. Gordon was 36 and a household name thanks to Boiling Point, an ITV fly-on-the-wall series that documented the opening of his first flagship restaurant. Back then, I was a girl who lived for the present day and spent my earnings on renting a centrally located apartment. Nothing happened that night, but he asked for my number and I happily gave it to him. I found myself attracted to him, and I thought since I’m not seeing anyone, why not?

A few dates later and I couldn’t get enough of him. In the early years, the appeal of spending time with him outweighed the negative aspects. I idolized Gordon and would have done anything for him. I really liked him and I believed the feeling was mutual.

As I “saw” Gordon and struggled with being the other woman, I decided to start a support group called Mistresses Anonymous. I ended up running it for ten years.

I was flooded with women wanting to sign up and chat with each other. Although I primarily provided online support, I did host a few in-person group meetings in Los Angeles and Canada, eventually creating and hosting a self-help reality TV series at the age of 42. From a ‘professional’ perspective I know full well that it was a vital lifeline for other women in the same boat as me, and from a personal perspective I would tell myself that at least I wasn’t alone.

At best it was a diversionary tactic; at worst, it reminded me what an idiot I was, putting my heart and happiness in the hands of a married man. I found myself giving the other members advice that I couldn’t follow myself: get out of the relationship now, you deserve better than this.

It will come as no surprise that the support group’s busiest day was Christmas Day, when I was the wingwoman for mistresses who were in a desperate state. What came up again and again was that every mistress wants their married man to be with them on Christmas Day. Many of the women who contacted us had given ultimatums or increased pressure.

The men were often forced to sneak out to see them or make things right with an expensive gift. But it was never enough.

And I knew exactly what they were going through.

Every Christmas I was abandoned. For 48 hours my phone remained silent, it was as if I didn’t exist. I didn’t buy any Gordon presents, but that’s because he couldn’t take them home. And although Gordon and I spoke sometimes during the Christmas period, waiting for the phone to ring was painful.

Over time I became quite frustrated with the situation I found myself in. But then he called and I was cheerful and light-hearted. I was always available when I was needed, a bit sad actually. And that was me: someone who massaged his ego and met his needs. Understandably, my self-esteem plummeted.

That last Christmas in California gave me a lot of time to think. I had spent most of my thirties living a lifestyle that I thought I wanted, but in reality I had wasted the best years of my life. Halfway through my affair with Gordon, I couldn’t help but look at other women my age who had husbands and families. Although I don’t think I ever wanted children, I would have enjoyed a more settled lifestyle.

And I dreamed of doing the normal things that people do in relationships: meeting friends and family, sharing a house, going to John Lewis to have crockery or curtains made to order – even bickering loudly in the street together – all things I would never do. could have done.

I stopped seeing Gordon in 2008 when our seven-year affair became public after the News of the World published a story about us. I was 38, finally older and wiser. He denied what we had at the time and tried to erase me from his life. In retrospect, it gave me time to understand that.

Today I am 53 and very happily single. The loves of my life are furry and have four legs. They are my rehomed rescue dogs Benji, Charlotte and Tiny. I live in the family home, enjoy village life with my dear elderly parents and Christmas is now a time to count my blessings. I focus on what I have, rather than what I don’t have.

I don’t need a man in my life, but if I met someone, I would make sure he or she wasn’t married. I would never have an affair again; Take it from me, nothing good can come from it.