At 60 years old, I became invisible. Getting old as a gay man stinks.
As a gay man who recently turned 60, I’m pretty sure my life is over. Yes, it’s possible that the graying temples, eye wrinkles and extra padding – which has extinguished my dream of ever having discernible abs – have also ushered in a new era of melodrama.
Even so, the virtual invisibility with which I can currently walk through a gay gym or neighborhood is a new experience, and it feels like a forced retirement.
Last week, as I slathered myself with anti-wrinkle cream, I examined my body expecting to find a tattooed expiration date announcing that I’d joined the club of older gay men who have small dinner parties, where they recount their glory days and complain about the current generation of their counterparts who fail to give them the respect they deserve.
Living in an 'A-gay' world
Much of what I’m about to say cuts against everything I was taught and mostly believe that the substance of a person is all that is important – so I expect to regret this column, but am compelled to write it nonetheless.
I was never an “A-gay” – a hotness equivalent of the universal blood type. But I had a particular niche of mutual attraction and, at the risk of sounding like I lack all humility, I miss the attention at the gym, the free drinks at the bars and the extra chicken wing I used to find in my greasy carryout bag when I got home.
Now that I’ve stepped in it, please indulge me the wallow: Many gay men place a premium on physical beauty. Of course, all people feel anxiety about their bodies, but even a 2016 study found gay men are more likely than heterosexual men to report feeling pressure to look attractive.
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That’s not intended to say that gay men do not value and support intellectual pursuits, close friendships and other matters of substance. They do. But decades of having the core of your being outlawed, degraded and subjected to violent attack has a way of twisting your priorities and the perception you have of yourself.
My public obsolescence has given me a new appreciation for women, who have struggled against social pressure that often links their value to their appearance – which can rise and fall based on fluctuating considerations like age, weight and plastic surgery budget.
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There are celebrity exceptions to the “get older and disappear” rule. But for every Daniel Craig (53) and Helen Mirren (76), there are millions of us who have been handed our new parking tags, at the edge of the shopping mall, next to Denny’s.
Initially, I felt my exile was unique. After all, two of my closest friends recently posted a series of Facebook pics of their vacation to Mexico, in which they are smiling, hugging and goofing off with friends. One is 59, and his husband is 68. They both look great and appear to be living their best lives.
A few weeks ago, my partner and I went to their house for dinner. I swear I did not raise the issue, but the 59-year-old asked if we feel like we’ve lost our “mojo,” as he recounted a recent evening in which he was literally pushed aside, as the younger men moved past him in a crowded bar. We all agreed that would never have happened to us 10 years ago. And there you have it; we were four older gay men reliving our glory days and complaining about the baby gays who were not giving us the respect we deserved – or at least to which we’d become accustomed.
Physical attraction isn't everything
I know, life is filled with countless problems that are far worse; it’s not the end of the world. But if that were the standard we had to meet before we could be unhappy about something, we’d never be allowed to be unhappy about anything.
I’m fortunate in many ways, despite my current pity party. I have a partner whom I adore, and my reflection in his eyes is frozen on the version of me that piqued his interest almost 11 years ago.
I get that as long as sexual attraction exists, there will be benefits that are derived from it. If I’m being honest, during my dating years I was guilty of the offense I’m currently complaining about. I placed a premium on physical attraction – though only for my romantic interests, never for my friendships.
Lately, I’ve been telling myself that if I want an extra chicken wing, I can afford to buy it for myself. Still, I cannot escape a sense of loss as I move into this new stage of life.
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Only straight men live in a world that allows them a graceful transition to old age. It’s not that they age better, it’s that few people diminish them for their balding heads, expanding guts and fur-filled ears. And like so many default benefits that are inherited by straight men, their value has never primarily been based on their appearance – so they have never internalized the loss that comes when their youth abandons them.
There’s a lesson here: The unhappiness we feel about our aging appearance is not innate. It’s based on how others treat us, and how we use that treatment as a baseline for how we treat ourselves. It’s time we commit to doing better on both accounts.
My 80-year-old father has no cartilage in one knee, uses two canes to walk, and just got hearing aids in both ears. I recently complained to him that getting old stinks. He had the perfect response: “The alternative is worse.”
Michael J. Stern, a member of USA TODAY's Board of Contributors, was a federal prosecutor for 25 years in Detroit and Los Angeles. Follow him on Twitter: @MichaelJStern1
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This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Gay men should be able to age gracefully like everyone else
