A journey through the worlds of style, design, art and gracious living. Who am I kidding? It's about stuff!
Monday, November 9, 2015
52 is not the new 38 or How I Learned to Stop Living Carefree and Begin to Fear the Age Bomb pt1 of many
“I'm invisible! I'm not even here! No one looks at me. They look right through me.” Yup. Another exciting night with my friend Bob. 55. Chubby. White. Balding. Not just alone. Lonely. Miserable. Old. And after 2 and 1 quarter vodka orange buckets of misery, a complete boor. And about to start crying if I don't stop flirting with the guy over his shoulder and get him to his fallback, food.
“I've said it before.” I know this part of Bob's next overly dramatic performance. It's the whole, “if I don't find someone soon. To love me. To hold me at night. ..I'm going to end it….” I glaze over as he launches in and imagine myself handing him the broken bucket glass with instructions in my best Rose McGowan, “up and down. Never across.”
Bob is not dealing with the whole gay guy getting old thing well.
“I don't really think the rules apply to gay guys.” My 22 year old best friend, Christophe. “Active gay guys like you, well, it's still cool if you go out to bars or pool parties. Though you may want to lay off the pancakes after the Garage before next season.” Out of the mouths of bitches. I mean, babes.
I get his point, but I'm 52.
I can say all I want that Black doesn't crack. Or yellow stays mellow. But I'm 52 freaking years old. I'm an AARP member for fuck sake. I remember Julia. The colored nurse, not the abnormally large cook. Oh God, I remember her too. I was there when Alexis showed up in the courtroom. I grew up with a black and white TV.
Gay and old.
Whether I like it or not I'm a senior citizen. Kill me and sell my bones to the Soylent Green corporation. If they'll deal in past date fat products.
Gay and old.
You never see 40 year old straight guys at Rehab. If you do, everyone there is looking at dude in his long board shorts like wtf? No one bats an eye at a 60 year old guy in a speedo with pierced nipples at a Luxor Gay pool party. It just seems like we never have to grow up. Something just seems wrong to me about that.
I don't know why.
I look at my friends from high school on Facebook. The jocks all look worn out. Fat. Sloppy. Tired. What happened? We're the same age. Come from the same place. I can only conclude, straight happened. They grew up. It's what straight people do.
Why haven't I? Why haven't I had to? When do I? Will I?