By the time you read this, I will be invisible. No, it’s not because I invented some cool secret potion, nor am I sitting on top of a nuclear waste dump. Rather it’s because I am turning… well, it starts with an ‘f,’ and f-words (er, numbers) like that are just too profane to put into print.
My powers of invisibility are not in my work or relationships. With both I enjoy far better success and satisfaction than I have ever felt in the past. And they’re certainly not with people who want money or favors. Someone seems to have written my number on all of their restroom walls.
My invisibility is in areas I really didn’t care about in the past and probably won’t miss in the future—gay bars and sex apps.
Now, I am not on any sex apps— things like Grindr, Scruff or Adam4Adam—but I have done my fair share of research. Besides being a useful tool for the busy gay guy on the go, I also see them as God’s gift to the socially awkward.
We all like to order in once in a while, right?
At the risk of sounding like a complete narcissist, I can still walk into a bar and enjoy an annoying amount of attention. Though I once secretly believed they saw me as good-looking, now I just think they recognize me from TV. The truth is probably somewhere in-between.
So where’s my beef, Clara Peller? (If you’re not old enough to know who she is, Google her). My beef is the loss. Loss of a power I rarely used. I mean, even though Samantha Stevens lived her life like a mortal on Bewitched, she did get bummed when her magic powers were taken away.
And so it is true for many women as they age. Though (mostly straight and bi) women spend much of their life trying to prevent pregnancy, when the day comes that they can no longer procreate, they go through a grieving process as well.
Let’s face it. Being young and good-looking has power in gay society—well, in the gay male society. I see much more respect and reverence for women of a certain age in the lesbian community, but even that is starting to change.
Even if in most situations I stick out because of my height, loud mouth or I just tripped and knocked over a tray of food, I still know it’s coming. Losing my imagined sex appeal in a mythical Craigslist ad is only the beginning.
I think that is what this mid-point in life offers, a view of the past and a glimpse of the future. Eventually—if I am lucky enough to live that long—I will take a ride in Wonder Woman’s invisible plane with everyone else who is lucky enough to get there too.
Oscar Wilde once said, “Youth is wasted on the young.” True dat. But could there be times when age is wasted on the old?
Yes! Especially when the old don’t learn from the past and appreciate what they have in the present. This is going to be especially important now that we are living longer and having better quality lives as we age.
According to a study published just this month in American Journal of Public Health, not only are we living two years longer than the previous generation, we also have fewer disease symptoms and physical limitations. Basically, we are living longer and healthier lives than ever before.
That’s great, because older people also have some cool advantages over the young that may somewhat compensate for no longer getting free drinks at a bar or having sex without the use of a blue pill or a VISA card.
Luckily for people like us, those who cross into the second half of life generally have a happier outlook than their younger counterparts. Even the gay ones. They feel more competent and in control.
And, perhaps not surprisingly, they have better judgment and make decisions faster than a teen cheerleader’s topless selfie can be texted to her entire high school—and that’s fast.
What is especially great is that these new oldsters are less neurotic than they used to be. It seems that getting older means not sweating the small stuff quite as much. And it couldn’t come at a better time.
Another finding from the study is that younger people have more anxiety, walking problems and other issues related to a sedentary lifestyle than ever before. So they will literally be sweating the small stuff, in mind and body.
So older people are going to have to be in good shape to push the youngsters’ wheelchairs to the pharmacy to pick up their Xanax. Won’t it be nice to still be needed?
So though I may need to get used to being called “sir” outside of the Folsom Street Fair, and I may never be carded again, I should also brace myself for what appears to be a happier and more content life ahead. That I can do.
And if I am lucky to live long enough to take that ride in Wonder Woman’s plane with a lot of other people who are invisible to the outside world, I hope they serve cocktails, because it is going to be one hell of a party!