26 Dec 2002

tick tock (part 2)

Fridae's columnist, Glenn Chua, continues to seek the answers to the question: "Where do gay men go when they grow old?"

I still hadn't found the answer to my question. Where do gay men go when they grow old? We almost never see any gray gays, particularly not around the scene. And I certainly don't think gay men hit 100% mortality at 50. Are they relegated to lurking in chat-rooms and emigrating to Bangkok? Or going into gay-related businesses so they can keep a fragile toehold on the scene? (Some do, hence my earlier comment about opening bars.)

A friend of mine in the same age was appalled when he heard some young upstart fags refer to him as "grandma" in a sly aside. But given that some of the guys I'd seen hitting the scene were as young as 14, it wasn't that surprising. So rather than have to face the "ageism" stigma, many choose to retire. A rare few, like my current boss, are still as purty at 40 as he was at 30, so when he revisits the scene, it's as royalty (no pun intended) rather than a peon. But that's rare.

Given my dark turn of mood, I spoke to a few friends who'd crossed the 40-year barrier, and asked what they thought. Some were "married", and were spending their energies making their life together, working and travelling, and spending time with friends. Other immersed themselves in art or hobbies etc. And some chose to grimly face reality. That they were growing old and alone. Having friends, no matter how good, just doesn't cut it. So they haunt the gay strip bars and male massage parlours, and buy their love. Because it does get cold at night.

Maybe that's one reason why so many of us are subconscious workaholics. We know, deep down inside, that it's gonna be an expensive future ahead. Not to mention the rising costs of plastic surgery.

And no, not everyone "buys" rent-boys for pleasure. But let's face it, too. Many young guys like older men for the sense of security, and comfortable existence they can get. The older boyfriend often ends up paying for the young lad's indulgences, and yet they still have to, as friend of mine in Singapore said in the past, "give them a loose leash" or the lad leaves. It's no different in Manila. Many beautiful boys (even movie actors) here are kept by older men, with cars, condos, expensive gifts and gym memberships to keep them happy. Other prices we pay include higher costs of living, medical expenses, single income taxation, and hair implants.
For those of us who are swingers, we keep playing the edge between wild fun and settling down. I just got invited to, and finally attended my first orgy party last weekend (that's a tale for another day). Will I still get invited 5 years from now? 10? Should I find someone to grow old with, before it's too late and I find myself growing old with my right hand? If I tie myself down too soon, will I regret the missed opportunities for fun and games? Or will I, like old soldiers, just fade away? From the scene, from sex, from life?

Gah. I just keep finding more questions, don't I? Wish there were some easy answers.

And what happens if we should live till 60, 70, 80? Recently, I heard of this gay retirement home here in Manila called "Golden Gays". Amusingly enough, they were chosen (by the winning, evidently gay contestant) as the beneficiary of a gift package from a popular game show. The concept is novel, and I admit affords some relief that as gay men grow older, they aren't completely left alone. I've been trying to find more info on the home, but haven't had much luck. I'd like visit with them sometime, speak with the old queens, and shake the hand of whoever set up the place. It proves the old cliché that we will always have each other, perhaps as a larger sort of family. You loners out there better start making real friends. And move fast, time is ticking.

Manila's gay crowd is young, and populated by the young. Maybe one reason you don't see many old gay men is because there really aren't many of them yet. After all, if you count back, for a gay man to be in his 60's here, he'd have to have been born in the 1940s, and, given the religious turn of life here in those days, most probably subsumed their fabulousness under straight living or complete denial.

But we live in a different age. And we are, despite all our protestations, growing older each year. Maybe it's up to my generation to chart a course, to create a "path" for gay men to walk in stages. Maybe there is really no path, and we have to stumble along our own individual destinies.

I guess we just have to live by the same rules as we grow older. Be yourself, be proud, stay beautiful. The rest we leave to fate and modern science.