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WARNING:
SOME OF THE LANGUAGE AND/OR SUBJECT MATTER IN MY BLOG MAY BE OFFENSIVE
TO SOME AND IS NOT SUGGESTED READING FOR ANYONE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE.
READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
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I took my boyfriend to a somewhat swank concierge function at Top Of The Rock (Rockefeller Center) the other night. Though it was raining and cloudy the view was still great. Looking to the south, the Empire State Building stood straight up towering over the other buildings of Midtown Manhattan like a huge throbbing erection, well, buildings don’t throb, but you get the point. Speaking of erections my beau and I have been together for about three months now. We’re exclusive and things aren’t soooo serious I guess, but we really like eachother, we’re together all the time but we’re not putting too much on that, we’re just taking things one day at a time.
While navigating through the crowd of concierges, tourism professionals and their respective plus ones having meaningless chit-chat conversation after meaningless chit-chat conversation occasionally snacking on vittles courtesy of Cipriani we ran into a colleague of mine. For our purposes we’re gonna call him Mr. President. Mr. President is an older white gentleman whom I’ve had the pleasure of working with several times. He’s 67 (but doesn’t look it), gay (but not a queen), and has an almost regal presence about him, definitely someone I look up to and respect. He and his partner have been together almost 30 years. They were both at this particular function that night and my boyfriend and I ended up having an interesting one-hour conversation with them.
Seeing Mr. President and his partner got me to thinking about the future. It seems as though with the advent of the HIV/AIDS crisis and our quotidian endeavors to stay young, gay, and fabulous that we’ve forgotten about the future. Not so much what we want to be when we grow up and things of a financial nature but where we want to be, where we want to be emotionally and spiritually. We’re so scared of dying and so youth oriented that we seldom think about life as older gay people. Yeah you’re gay or bi or ”messin’ with dudes” now but what will you be in 30 years? Can you seriously see yourself with another man or woman for the rest of your life?
I personally have no problems with being gay and don’t really have any hangups about it. I’ve worked all that stuff out already, you know: the confusion, the acceptance, the whole God-hates-me-I’m-an-evil-abominator-syndrome, the contemplations of suicide, that’s what all those awkward teenage years were for. But I’m a grown up now and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I have no regrets (thanks Madonna) about my past stuggles and mistakes because they’ve helped make me the person I am today and if I had the chance to do it all over again I wouldn’t change a thing (thanks Faith Evans). Oddly enough though, I’ve encountered that not too many of my young, black, gay contemporaries share this sentiment. I hear statements such as:
“I don’t plan to do this for the rest of my life”
and
“I plan to get married and have kids some day”
Some of this I have heard from flaming queens who have very limited or no sexual experience with women. Who am I to judge but it just strikes me as a little odd. And don’t get me started on the role that organized religion and the whole “D.L.” (well, not so DL now) thing does to fry people’s brains and self esteem. So many of us are confused and ashamed of ourselves that it makes me wonder. In 44 years will I be able to say I have my Mr. President? Or better yet, will I even want his insecure, confused, low self esteem havin’ ass?
Anyway… seeing Mr. President with his partner caused a really reassuring feeling to rush over me, over the both of us I’m sure. To actually see a relationship working for so long restores so much of my faith in myself and in all the gays. On top of that Mr. President and his partner have a lot in common with me and my boyfriend. They have a May-December relationship as we do (my dude is a few years my senior and Mr. President is older than his partner) and most alarming is the fact that they moved in together after three months. And you guessed it I’ve been involved with my dude for about three months now. The statement caused some nervous laughter between us but my dude and I aren’t thinking about about moving in together right now. We both have leases to finish.
It was amazing to have Mr. President and his partner share with us their wisdom and experiences. To regale us with stories about the good old days, Studio 54, Andy Warhol, bath houses (by the way that would soooo not ever be my thing) and such. Just hearing about life before HIV/AIDS was so fascinating. Watching their way with eachother and the way they completed eachother’s sentences made us both smile. It gave me a real-live, tangible thing to look forward to. Most of my relationships haven’t lasted past 30 days, not to mention 30 years.
The main piece of advice they gave us wasn’t really advice-like at all. Basically they told us that there was no specific way that they stayed together so long. They obviously liked eachother, they fell in love, and they just worked at it. Mr. President’s lover even said that it was even okay to tell a little white lie every once in a while to spare the other feelings… What? I almost couldn’t believe it. They’re not perfect, they are just normal people like you and me. Normal people who actually took the time and effort to work at a relationship. Even I could do that.
Whether me and my current dude make it for the next thirty years or not at least I can rest easier at night knowing that it is indeed possible.
