The New Age

What is a new age? 

I turned 60 on August 21, 2022. As I begin to write this I have now been in my sixties for one week. So far, so good, This time last year, right after turning 59, it was significantly less than so far, so good. I had just recovered from a mild case of COVID, my partner and I had just moved from a situation that was not sustainable. I had a new two-bedroom apartment to put together, and I had discovered that I had an inguinal hernia that fortunately was not painful, but was bothersome and unsightly nonetheless. 

Fast forward to now: the apartment is nicely set up and we love the space, the hernia has been repaired with surgery, and I have been able to avoid getting another case of COVID. 

And now I am in my sixties. 

What is a new age? The word "new" usually refers to anything that has, until recently, not been in our possession or has been unfamiliar to us. It can also apply to experiences and people. It may not actually be new, but it may be new to us. The word "age" can refer to how young or old something or someone is, but it can also apply to a period of time, as in "The Golden Age of Movies". 

The new age I speak of is this period of time (my sixties) that has, until recently, been unfamiliar to me. To be honest, it is still unfamiliar, in the same way a new home or frock could remain unfamiliar after only a week. But here is what I know about it so far:

• It is better than the first week of being 59. 
• It feels very much like the last week of being 59. 
• I prefer being at the beginning of a decade rather than at the end, because I get to make a "10 year plan". 
• It is more obvious now that I am 30 years older than my boyfriend, who is 30. 
• There are some changes to my body that I have absolutely no control over. 

***

What is a new age?

I was at a pool party in the summer with men "around my age", and I observed how some are faring better than others, whatever that means. In Los Angeles, aging well means only that you look good, that you are aging well on the outside (but not necessarily on the inside). Of course, it is reasonable to conclude that the outside reflects the inside, yes? At least when the outside has not been, uh, repaired cosmetically. 

Some of it is, of course, genetics. For instance, George Clooney and Brad Pitt will look good as they continue to age--becoming burnished versions of their younger selves. This is quite different from someone like Al Pacino, who is barely recognizable from his handsome younger self. 

For some of us, the environment and our behavior factor into how we age more than genetics. The world can take a toll on a person's face and body! But so can sugar, alcohol, drugs, lack of exercise, and bad relationships. Stress can take a toll. So can racism, homophobia, isolation, poverty, sun-tanning, and war. 

At this pool party, I observed how men of my age behaved together. I don't think any of us, myself included, "acted our age": we ate foods that we should not eat, drank more alcohol than we should drink, in some cases wore swimsuits we should not be wearing (or took them off completely). None of these behaviors were crimes, but it did start me wondering what behaviors I might want to review for myself, as a 60 year-old. For instance, is it, perhaps, time to get rid of some of my speedos? 

When we are young, we don't think about age because we usually don't have to. It is something that is so far in the future that we don't regularly make decisions based on how they will impact our golden years. Youth is one of those things that deceives us; and perhaps unintentionally sells us on the durability of smooth flesh and hard muscles. When we are young and strong, we can't imagine not being young and strong--that is how ignorant we are! But it would be helpful to imagine it, and even to care about it. Because there is a difference between not caring about when the Earth will be swallowed by the Sun (billions of years from now) and not caring about 40 years from now in our lives and bodies. For 20 year-olds, 40 years might as well be a billion. 

***

What is a new age?

Today, in my new age, I am definitely thinking about the next 40 years. I am also thinking about the next 5 years, and I am even thinking about tomorrow. That is the main difference--when I was young, I thought about the current moment more than the future--today it is reversed. But don't make the mistake of thinking that I don't enjoy today because my head is in tomorrow. My tomorrow is influenced by how I think about today--the two are connected now, not separate; my thinking of the future affects not only the choices I make today, but also how I experience those choices. I may choose to drink less so that I avoid a hangover, but that allows me to focus more on conversation with others who may be sharing the space around me. 

In the new age, my priorities are health, relationship, work, peace of mind, and community. I read once that, as we get older, priorities shift from status to connection to security. That makes sense. At 60. I don't have as much time to repair things in my life if I fuck up. Security provides a buffer against the inevitable threats that come with age, ensuring that I can respond with as many resources as possible. 

As I continue into this decade, I will no doubt experiment with different ways of expressing myself in the world (less Speedos?), hopefully settling somewhere that makes sense to both me and to others in my life. And while I navigate this road, I will also no doubt be thinking about turning 70. But I might be better off thinking less about how I want to be and more about just being. My hesitation with that is the concern that I am less likely to succeed at spontaneous expression now than I was as a younger man. 

Spontaneity, when young, is cool. It is sexy. It is hip. It inspires. In old age, spontaneity can look sloppy, inspiring ridicule. Why is that? Maybe older bodies don't move as smoothly as younger ones, but does that mean they should not move? 

Perhaps the path forward, for me, is to pay attention to the world and the people who surround me during the day, and let that stimulate my response. If I am paying attention, would my response not be both spontaneous and authentic? Authenticity does not age since it is of the moment, and I suspect that my attention to the moment, and what it offers, will shift the conversation from what is appropriate to what is authentic, and what is authentic is rarely ever inappropriate. 

I really don't want to be laughed at. 

***

What is a new age? 

There is no one template for me to follow regarding being 60. Everybody is doing it differently, it seems to me (not all of them are doing it "well"). Some are accepting the effects of age, as well as both the new limitations and opportunities, by making necessary adjustments, while others are denying the same with every dollar in their wallet. Shouldn't we feel good about reaching 60, or any age for that matter? I do, so far. But more and more it seems that the markers of age: wrinkles and wisdom, insight and patience, silence and contemplation, humor and compassion, are rarely seen, valued, or respected. Respect is at times a response to respectful behaviors--is it not? Are older folks behaving "respectfully" these days?

If you are wondering how I define respect, I lean towards a Kantian view of it: respect means not treating yourself or any other as a means, only as an end. Translation: you don't use yourself or others as a way to get something else. 

If one wonders why nobody values old folks, you might tell them it is because nobody values being old. There is little value today in being older because young people do not want what older folks have to offer, at least that is what I notice in Los Angeles. Wisdom? No thank you! Money is valued more. Patience? Fuck that! I want what I want and I want it now (it doesn't help that we can usually get it right away). Insight? Too painful, expensive, and time-consuming--why spend time in therapy when we can instead do ayahuasca and feel more enlightened the next morning?

There used to be purpose in growing older--we were the "elders", guiding the youth, caring for the young while the parents hunted or worked in the village. It is so different now, obviously, because we are no longer hunter-gatherers as we once were, at least most of us are not. We now hunt and gather money, and since youth is where the money is, that is valued more. Experienced folks are seen as "out-of-date", with nothing to offer. 

If only they knew what we had to offer. 

***

In my psychotherapy practice, clients come to me for what I have to offer them, and I am grateful to have chosen a career that grows in value with my age. And yet, I am still figuring out what value my age has for me, even though I suspect I may be going about it the wrong way. I would like my new age to be similar to David Byrne's life, who, at the age of 70, still rides his bicycle around Manhattan and performs music with younger musicians in a way that lifts the spirit. (I highly encourage you to watch "American Utopia" on Netflix if you have not already done so.) This demonstrates that as people get older, they can "be authentic" to their age and continue to be vital; inspire and be inspired by younger generations, being true to oneself AND being influenced by what is new. 

Many of the elders I admire are (or were, some are gone now) musicians or actors, mostly because they are the most visible: Annie Lennox, Bruce Springsteen, Bonnie Raitt, David Bowie, Barack and Michelle Obama, Lenny Kravitz, Pema Chodron, the 14th Dalai Lama, Jimmy Carter, and so on. I admire folks who have not just kept themselves healthy and fit as they age, but also those who remain engaged with the world in meaningful ways--you could say that they have an enduring curiosity about life. 

If there is one common denominator between all of these people I have named, it is that nobody is laughing at them. That is my gauge. 

I don't want anyone to ever look at me, as an older man in the world, and laugh at how I am acting or presenting myself. And while this may seem to be an objective gauge, measured by an outside observer, I would counter that the gauge is also internal--that I will know way before an outside observer will if I am being ridiculous. How will I know when I am acting/talking/dressing in a way that is laughable? Well, I will have to listen to my intuition, and pay attention when it signals that I am being inauthentic. 

There are a lot of people who talk to me about their desire to be "authentic". That can be a tricky ambition if they define authentic as a goal. In reality, it is a value, not a goal, meaning that it is a direction in which to head rather than a destination to get to. Let's break it down. Here is a list of descriptors--see if you can guess which ones are associated with authenticity and which are not:

• ridiculous
• silly
• mindful
• genuine
• deceptive
• attentive
• irrational
• judgmental
• compassionate
• curious

I won't bother to tell you which is which because it is better to sit with your own process of examination, but you may notice that the states you associate with authenticity all require a degree of mindfulness. In my view, mindfulness is not just being aware of what is happening inside of you, but also noticing what is happening outside of you--it is your inside world paying attention to the outside world and then noticing how the inside world feels about that--it is a response rather than a reaction, it is about the moment rather than the unknown future, it requires attention rather than distraction. Authenticity is less about who you are and more about who you are in the moment that you are in.

True authenticity is rarely, if ever, laughed at. And this is my goal. 

***

In many ways, my entire life has been both extraordinary and commonplace. When I think about it, getting married for the first time in my 60's could be extraordinary. Or commonplace. I am not sure which--what elements distinguish those categories? Maybe it depends not on how I look at it, but instead how others look at it. To me, the decision to get married now feels natural--there is nothing impulsive or spontaneous about it, but I can understand why others might look at me and think: Why now? Why him? Whereas I think, if you love someone that much: Why not?

Remember that poster you would see with poem about the lady who will wear purple everyday once she gets old? I am not even sure it was purple she wanted to wear, but that is how I remember it. The poster seemed to be saying that, ideally, you stop giving a fuck when you get old--you can do what you feel like doing and not care what others think (like wearing purple!). Sounds a little like becoming a child again, but without the supervision or carelessness. Think Ruth Gordon in Harold and Maude, and you will get the picture. She was free. She was even free to choose when she died. 

But remember that even with Maude's freedom, she choose to enter into a relationship with Harold, loving him dearly. Her relationship was not a cage, it was not a trap, it was an extension of the way she lived her life, an expression of her freedom to choose. True freedom does not mean that you go around doing whatever you want whenever you want, it means that you have the ability, resources, access, and willingness to make your own choices, whether it is to get an abortion, live alone in the woods, get married at 60, or wear purple when you are old, while also accepting responsibility for the effect and consequences of those choices on yourself and others. 

It means that you find authenticity in attention to the moment--noticing not only what is happening around you, but also what is happening inside you, and then responding to that--or not. True freedom cannot exist for me without interdependence on others, because true freedom requires outside support and mutual reliance. I am not sure what freedom will look like for me in my new age, but I can know a bit about what it will look like today, so maybe I will just start there. This is how I want to do my 60's.

This is my new age. 

I Used To Think...

I have lived long enough at this stage (of the game) to have a retrospective view of the arcs of my thinking over the years. It is a beautiful sight, this view--a number of clean, bumpy arcs from one point of view to another, dotted here and there with the blood of my mortally wounded previous worldviews. I notice along the way that some arcs have returned to sender, so to speak; they return from whence they came after a process of careful consideration. Meanwhile, other arcs travel a more daring route, ignited by a societal "kick", moving rapidly from the source and traversing unfamiliar landscape to settle in unknown but welcoming territory.

So what's the point?

Thinking is an activity--but I suspect having been misled by the premise that it is meant to go somewhere. As an activity, thinking has many purposes, only one of which is to "arrive" at conclusions (a pedestrian function, I find). I am more interested in noticing how thinking influences my current experiences in the world, while reflecting back the very same. I am interested in how my thinking decorates my immediate environment--I will concern myself over where I am moving to once I start moving. Devoid of destination, this type of thinking allows time for lounging in wormholes and sandtraps; this type of thinking dances with the outside in a free form sort of tango where there is no lead and no follower, just rhythm. This type of thinking flirts with me for my attention in a way that shiny-eyed young men used to. This type of thinking is the only thinking that leads to me writing essays.

My thinking these days continues to poke and prod me with its restlessness, belying my age and growing indifference. I feel at times like a parent with a toddler who never ages, you feel me? And like a dad shaking his head while smirking with pride, I find myself entranced as much by my thinking's current shiny objects as I do its trail of discards.

This essay is about the discards.

***
1. I used to think that because I was a nice person, everyone liked me. I have since discovered that even though I may be nice at times, not everyone thinks of me in this way, and some of these people do not like me because of how they think of me. When people demonstrate their dislike of me for a reason I have not given them, I stop being nice to them, validating their assessment. I don't think I am a nice person anymore--I think I am a person who can be nice, unless I am not. The latter scenario is curiously dependent on whether or not you are nice to me.

2. I used to think that sex was love. I was wrong--not about the sex, but about the love. Sex is love, even if you never see the person's face or know their name, but it is not the type of love I used to think it was, the kind of love I used to look for many years ago. That type of love comes as a result of what happens before and after sex, not during. I wish I had known this. 

3. I used to think that God would protect me. I no longer think there are gods. I no longer think I am protected, nor do I need to be.

4. I used to think that I was not smart. I now know that I am.

5. I used to think that Madonna would never age. Seems I was right about that one. What I did not think was that the younger generations would not deserve her.

6. I used to think that the religious were to be respected. I now think they are to be pitied, and in some cases (like my brother), completely ignored.

7. I used to think that people had each other's best interests in mind. I still think that, but I also think that our culture has turned us against each other's best interests.

8. I used to think that friendships were second to love relationships. I was wrong.

9. I used to think that I could no longer be moved by music.

10. I used to think that I wanted to live in Jeannie's bottle, but I now realize I really just wanted to be Jeannie. 

11. I used to think my family was right about me. Now I realize they were just scared. 

12. I used to think that wearing the latest clothing trends made me "cool". Now I realize that wearing no clothes in my 50's is cooler. 

13. I used to think that life was a test where I had to score well. Then I thought it was a game where I had to win. Now I think it is a meal where there is no scoring or winning--just taking it in bite by bite, enjoying and discovering new and old flavors, appreciating the experience even if I burn my tongue, sharing with others, digesting it slowly, nourished and temporarily satisfied until the next "hunger" arrives. 

14. I used to think that doing my own yard work was being in relationship with nature. I still do. 

15. I used to think that it would get better. Now I realize that we get better. 

16. I used to think that magic was something outside of me. I used to think that it had to do with things that could not exist--what you find in the shadows or in between rays of light. But magic is just another word for what we have not been trained to see. Magic is nature, and it is perfectly logical while also being mysterious. Magic is the area of science where we just don't know everything yet--the moment of conception, the communication between bees, why we select one person out of twenty in a room. Just because we don't know does not give us the right to outsource the answer to a god. That is reductive and lazy, and frankly disrespectful to nature. The gift of magic is that it allows us to sit in mystery without clues or a solution. I used to think that solutions were what I wanted--they offered order and comfort. I now think that the safest place to be is on the high wire: hyper sensitive to the laws of balance while averting disaster with every successfully placed step. 

Magic is the space between steps. I think this is where I am most comfortable. 

I think.

Matthew Broderick CANNOT be 54

I am at a strange time in my life. Things in the world are not just changing, they are also changing over, and I am not yet clear on how I feel about it. Change itself is inevitable, but often, what something changes into is not revealed in a linear fashion. The end result of change, if there is such a thing (there is not), is often only vaguely connected to the intention at the point of initiation. This is because the process of change itself is poked and prodded along the way by outside forces that contribute to change. These forces are ever-present, making the very idea of change a difficult one to conceptualize because there is no "opposite" to reference. But as I said at the beginning of this paragraph, I am more interested in discussing change over than change, since this is a potentially digestible exploration.

***
Matthew Broderick just turned 54. I think he is too young to be as pudgy as he is. He and I were, until he turned 54, the same age. I am a few months behind him, which means that from his birthday until the day I celebrate mine in August, he is temporarily one year older than I. I am not entirely okay with him being anywhere near my age, but it is what is happening. As everyone knows, he is also married to Sarah Jessica Parker, who I think is too old to be as thin as she is.

They have a son named James Wilke, who is 14 as of this writing, and they have twin girls who were delivered by a surrogate, who also have names. They have homes in New York, Ireland, and the Hamptons, and are worth several millions of dollars together, so you don't need to feel bad for them for the things I am saying. Besides, what I am saying is not about Matthew or Sarah, nor is it about their kids, of whom I have named one. It is about me.

What you need to know about me is that I am not okay with Matthew Broderick being an older man. Granted, 54 is not "old" in today's bionic culture, where nobody seems to get forehead wrinkles anymore, but if you lived through the time when he was a "big deal", then maybe you can relate to my current distress.

What is bothering me is that I have no frame of reference for thinking of Matthew as an older man. To me, he is now and forever Ferris Bueller, the coolest and cutest guy in school, and I, by association, am a person still capable of feeling renewal. But he is far from the former, and I am reduced to playing 'hide and seek' with the latter.

I remember when I went to my first high school reunion. It was our 25th, can you imagine? I was unsure about attending, as I had not seen any of my schoolmates since our graduation in 1980. I was not sure I wanted to see what had become of them, but even more so, I was not sure I wanted to see how they had become 25 years older. My memories of high school are precious to me, as they are to many people, and I like to think of that time between 1977 and 1980 as an era of innocence, not in deed but in thought, where I moved through my life at the helm of possibility. The construction of myself has depended, in part, on the stability of the building blocks. If I were to see in my classmates' crumbling facades both the celebrated and failed middle age adults they have become, I was not entirely sure what would then become of me.

The good new is that I turned out okay, post-reunion, but not before I negotiated adjustments to the narratives of both my past and my present.

***
Ferris Bueller's Day Off came out in 1986. I was 24 at the time, moving toward 25, and I was a dancer in San Diego, California. The dominant pop culture personality was Madonna, of course, and there was a definite entrenchment for those around me in the post-disco androgynous glamour that was new wave. That was not all that was going on, though. AIDS, Chernobyl, Whitney Houston's debut album, and the Challenger explosion all made news. For our purposes, Matthew Broderick has just come off of a few notable films, but he was not yet a huge star.

That all changed with Ferris Bueller. Written and directed by the prolific John Hughes, it was a film that was intended for Broderick from the beginning, and one viewing of it will show you why. Matthew played the character as an innocent, kind and generous, yet possessing an edge; he is a free-spirited and clever teen who ends up liberating all who cross his path. Even the school principal, Mr. Rooney, is transformed, though at the end of the film we are not yet sure if it is for the better.

Unlike many teen comedies where the grown-ups are all dolts, the adults in Ferris Bueller are more complex (though still dolts)--they are essentially different versions of what can happens over time when a teen allows their spark to be dulled. In the film, this conflict is illustrated brilliantly by Cameron, Ferris' best friend, who has become a depressive hypochondriac as a result of years of conforming to his parents' expectations. Cameron's story is a sweetly sad counterpart to Ferris' free spirit, and yet the stories compliment each other and give the film emotional depth.

I remember to this day when I first saw the film. I was in a foul mood at the time; I think I was dating someone I was not sure I wanted to date and the last thing I wanted to do was go to a film with him. Still, I had committed to the meeting, so in I went. As I watched the movie, Matthew's portrayal and the story had a magical effect on me--they restored hope. I needed to see that film, and when I emerged from the darkened theater I saw the day, and my date, from a different perspective. I was joyful. It is that kind of a film.

Hughes captured a unique time in the 80's. Teens were just starting to develop into modern hip versions of young adults, wearing clothes that were ridiculously intentional and self-assured, yet dripping with the ironic effortlessness. They were not just kids anymore--they were beautiful young adults who were already putting their stamp on the outdated fussy world of adults. Think about it, most of the parents of teens in the 80's were born in the late 40's, growing up themselves in the late 50's. The 80's was a whole different culture from theirs. Ferris Bueller was a new kind of teenager on the screen. He was the young man every guy wanted to be and every girl wanted to be with (and some guys wanted to be with, including yours truly); he was the friend everybody wanted to be best friends with, and the son every parent wanted to have. You could not imagine him having gone through an awkward stage.

To me, he represented potential, young and confident, taking in life by gulps, unafraid. He showed me the cost of giving in to fear. Matthew Broderick was a part of that time for me as well as being a catalyst for change; and he will forever be best known for this role in a film that continues to be referenced in popular culture.

So how can he be 54?

***
Unlike the challenge I have in gaining perspective on Broderick's aging, I have pretty much accepted that I am in my 50's. The difference is that I have been living with myself for the past 30 years since Ferris Bueller came out, so in that time I have had a day to day experience of getting older. Matthew has occupied less space in my attention span, so when he turns up in a picture, walking his kids in Manhattan in a rumpled sweater, I have a bit of a flip-out. How could he have grey hair??

When I see him in his current state, it has the effect of distorting the picture I have constructed of my past. In other words, it is a glaring reminder that things change. While that may seem a given regarding the price of gas and L.A. rents, it is less simply accepted regarding the past of our youth. We don't want those memories to be fucked with, do we? They mean something to us, and are instrumental in how we think of ourselves in the present day. When characters from long ago show up changed in the present, it reminds us of our own changing selves, our own aging selves, and the irrefutability of time passed. When I see Matthew Broderick celebrating his 54th birthday, I am strikingly reminded that I too have aged 30 years since 1986--perhaps day by day, but 30 years nonetheless. The past is over, and so is my youth. Fuck!

But even more challenging than accepting the changes wrought by age is the acknowledgment that things are changing over. Matthew Broderick is no longer a top movie star. Today his equivalent does not even exist in my mind, all the male stars under 30 kind of blend together for me--famous more for their beauty than for any particular characteristic. But don't think of me as a rocking chair grouch, I realize that Matthew in his day represented change as well--he was not Frank Sinatra or Mickey Rooney!

But this is my point entirely--that things change over, just as they always have. The reason why it is hitting so hard right now is because, like Matthew, I am on the retreating end of this current shift, or so I think. This shift has been imposed for the simple reason that we are not young anymore. I don't mean to imply that we don't have relevance--we do--just not so much in popular culture. Disposable culture. Chew them up, spit them out.

Louis CK, one of my favorite comedians and actors, did an episode about this in his show Louie (Season 5, Episode 3), in which he found himself being blatantly disregarded by a 20-something shop owner who saw no value in encouraging his patronage. When he told her that she should care about his experience in the store and should want him to shop, she says back to him,

"We're the future, and you don't belong in it. You have this deep down feeling that you don't matter anymore." 

He agrees with her. The saving grace of the show is that I know that Louie wrote this for himself as a way to comment on the changeover effect. In essence, he is commenting on the fact that, for those of us born before 1970, it is not our world anymore. It is changing over, but we are still here. This means that I worry about what it is changing over into (which will be addressed in a future essay).  Am I concerned about a culture that undervalues aging simply because I am aging, or are my concerns legitimate in the culture?

The essay SHOULD stop here, but you know me, I have just a little more to discuss that is related to this topic, so I beg your indulgence for just a bit more...

***
I ask myself why this matters. It is not as though I should be surprised that aging has happened--I knew I would be this age in this year way back when I was 20. No, there is something else, and I suspect it has to do with the significance of youth. Youth is a quality associated with being young, but that is too limiting a boundary. Don't be deceived into thinking of youth as reliant on age--its true essence stands independently, and it acts as a driver rather than a rider. But what does it drive??

What is it about being young--what is the reverence for? The answer could be twofold, perhaps, if you look at it from the inside out. First, there is the appeal of youthful beauty: smooth skin, clear eyes, strong body, thick hair, etc. But for me at this point this list is not enough to draw any more than passing interest--it lacks the depth I need to engage and sustain interest. The second quality that gives relevance to youth is far more seductive to me, and that is potential, and it is this quality that has inspired this essay. Potential wanes as one ages, though you might argue that it merely decreases in some areas and increases in others, but I refer specifically to the potential for living. When I was young, I had so much more living to do, and that afternoon viewing of Ferris Bueller reminded me of that in full cinematic color. I walked out of that theater reconnected to my youthful potential, and I challenge you to present a more inviting experience for a young person.

Seeing Matthew Broderick as a frumpy, graying 54 year old man is like a thump on the head, much like the film was 30 years ago, except this time the thump is an unwelcome reminder that my potential, while still potent, is running low. I had my chance to make the world, and I suppose I did as much as the next guy--but now that power is shifting as the changeover continues. And I am just not sure how I feel about this.

What I AM sure of is that I am not okay with Matthew Broderick turning 54. Of that I am sure. So I will remember him as Ferris Bueller, and use that memory to connect to the origin of my own remaining potential. After all, Ferris Bueller has not aged a bit.

Me, with remaining potential

Age: It's All In or Nothing

A brief break from my "This House" series...

On a recent day, a young man, who I was getting to know, was in my company. As we lay face to face in only the way that people "getting to know one another" do, I asked him if he ever thinks about the fact that I am fifty-two years of age. He told me that he does not think about it--he does not think about it at all. He then asked me if I think about it, and I confessed to him that I do indeed think about it. I told him that I think about how it would play out to get "involved" with someone younger than I, given that there is a possibility that right now, unbeknownst to me, there is something inside me, getting ready to ramp up, that may lead to my death.

So, yeah, I do think about my age.

I know it's not romantic, but I think about these things--just not in the way you might expect. Age, as a concept, is a sticky one, isn't it? Better yet, it is slippery. Over the years, the topic of age has slipped all around the place, never landing for long in one perspective. When I was a child, anyone who was in their fifties was old! They were often grandparents, and overweight, and certainly not sexy, not sexy at all. But then something happened. In the 70's people started taking care better care of themselves, at least exercise-wise. They cut back on smoking and drinking, at least compared to the 60's and earlier, and they ate better. Natural and organic foods started to show up, and aerobics became popular.

Along with these changes, many public figures refused to "get old". It seems that for many, it is no longer acceptable to "age" when you don't "have to", and many people remained active, relevant, and sexually appealing after forty. Nowadays, of course, there is procedural assistance, and many people in their fifties and older have faces devoid of wrinkles! So what does it mean to age? Is there a difference between wanting to be healthy as one gets older, and wanting to look forever young? (Hint: Of COURSE there is.)

***
I used to be very very very active, so active that it was nearly ridiculous. In my twenties, in San Diego, I would take dance classes all day, work in a bar until 3am, nap for a couple of hours until my day job at 6 am, then go back to class when I got off .

Me in dance class in my 20's

I would rehearse for shows while teaching dance and choreographing for my own group, then race up to L.A. to take more classes. In my thirties I was doing it all in L.A. while working catering gigs, often racking up 18 hour work days on events. For one job I would start at 5 am and do deliveries all day only to return in the evening to load up a party, deliver and set it up, run the floor, then break it down and return to the kitchen at 2 am. Then in my forties I worked full time at Whole Foods Market while taking 12 units per quarter in grad school, eventually adding an internship that was basically an unpaid part time job.

Me doing ALC in my 30's

All through this, I took pretty good care of myself. I always consumed below moderate levels of alcohol (and other stuff), and as I learned how to cook, I ate healthier. I have been working out since I was fourteen years old, and have cycled all my life. I do yoga and I drink lots of water, I get regular sleep, blah blah blah. But now, in my fifties, I am tired! I am not exactly sitting in a rocking chair though. I am building a psychotherapy practice in a crowded field and an economy that values physical beauty over mental health. I have no back up plan, no safety net. I still bike or take public transit everywhere, and I still work out at least three times a week and do yoga. But for me, that is slowing down! I like being at home at night, not running around town doing who knows what. There is SO much going on just outside my door but I am more interested in what is happening behind my closed door, with myself as company.

The potential of romance was a big factor in my past nutso activity level. Though I was a hard worker and loved most of what I did, I was also aware of an underlying hope that one of the many activities I engaged in would lead to meeting "The One". Can you imagine such a crazy idea? But here is the thing about that, from my much lived-in perspective: I just don't care about that anymore. The reality about the idea of The One is that it is only a story, and nothing more. This story is true for some, not for others. It was true for me until it wasn't any longer, in other words, there were a lot of unfinished first acts. There were some great loves, some shitty loves, some okay loves, and some really good sex mixed up in all of it. But for me, the only "one" for me has turned out to be, well, me. I wrote about this earlier so I won't rehash it now, except to repeat that I am not quitting--just stepping off the road and sitting on a sidewalk bench. There is plenty of room for someone to sit next to me, if they wish.

***
The story of The One has great power. In fact, you might be able to see how religion, at its core, is the ultimate story of The One, since it properly places Perfect Love right out of reach, thereby sustaining desire, hope, and pursuit. Many religious folk do their best to bring the story down to earth in their own human pairings, and many succeed quite well. My niece recently got married to the first boy she has seriously dated, and since they are Mormon, they see their marriage as being "for eternity".

As a story, this works for the Mormons precisely because it is so over the top. If you are going to invest in the story of The One, you MUST be all in or it won't work. If you doubt one parcel of it the whole thing could start to crumble--except for the Jews, whose faith is strengthened through questioning and investigation. My lovely niece is sure to have a happy marriage, happier than most, because she is wholly invested in a story that nearly erases doubt and extraneous expectation. But that doesn't make her belief the truth, or the way she got married the correct way--at least not for everybody. I am sure she loves her husband (as much as one can love their first), but the church tells her what to expect from a marriage, and I suspect that she, like other Mormon wives, fully accept this dictate*. They have to, otherwise they might look at their husbands and say, at some point, "Who am I and who are you?" Questions like that are not always great for storybook marriage, but they are fantastic for living a life like mine.

For me, the choice between options was yanked away when I realized that gay people didn't get to participate in storybook marriages. At first, I was lost, and tried to find my prince despite not being wanted in the kingdom, but now I cherish my chosen life as much as my niece cherishes her dictated life. I am "all in". But both are still based on stories. The only difference is that I am more of a co-author of my story, and at this point I have killed off the character of The One (even though nowadays the storybook marriage is available to me). It just doesn't work with my storyline.

My storyline requires regular editing, because, you know, things change! This gives me an advantage in that I don't get hung up on things being a certain way, forever, because they aren't. If you don't like that fact, then I guess you have to make up a story that makes you feel more comfortable (like the Mormons). No harm there, I suppose, unless they feel that their story needs to be everybody else's story (they do). With my story, I have the support of science, which means that it is not just my story, but the story of nature and physics. Argue with that, bitches!

That is why, when I find myself lying face to face with a young man, I cannot just stick to the story that I am also young. I do think about it! It is easy for a young person to have a story that says "age is just a number", but for someone of age, that is not necessarily true! Young folks see a sixty year old as old, while sixty-five year olds give themselves another five years before they will admit to joining that club. My question is, what are the boundaries of old age based on?

Age is not just a number, age is aging, but aging is not necessarily getting old. What aging looks like is up to the individual, biology and heredity, the culture, and the environment. I will agree with most that "you are as old as you feel". Most days I feel pretty "young", while other days I feel "older", but perhaps I am just tired--a state of feeling that I pretty much bulldozed out of my life for many years, but now openly welcome with a lovely afternoon nap or an evening relaxing at home. I do know that while I want to feel good, I have no desire to be thirty-five anymore. It is too tiring, and not as interesting to me now as it was at the time. I like my life now, and if that life includes occasions where I can take a nap one day, then lay face to face another day with someone who reminds me what it "feels like" to be younger, then so be it. It's something worth thinking about, don't you think?

*Great article here about how religion gets 'em through social consent.

The Forever Stop: Giving up Dating

I am not sure what I was thinking, writing an essay this long, but I decided to not divide it into two parts. Instead, it is a five part essay--but please realize that a discussion about dating cannot be done succinctly. That would only confuse and frustrate. So pour yourself a cup of coffee, or a glass of Scotch, and take in my latest perusal. It may be the last of this year...unless it isn't. 

Everyone in Los Angeles has a story or two about dating, even the men.

This is true regardless of age, but when you pass the age of fifty, you often have more than just one story or two. Yet I notice that stories told by men over fifty are somewhat different than those told by women of the same age. Generally, women bemoan the difficulty of finding a man who is interested in them in spite of their age, and how they just want a companion who displays occasional romantic gestures (ladies, I get it!). Men's stories, however, describe the same hope they longed for when they were younger--the desire to get laid and have someone take care of them (shame!). I sometimes suspect that dating, as we know it, was made up by women at some point. This is not a bad thing, except that the purpose of the exercise seems to have gotten a bit muddled. They say that people date to "get to know each other", yet in my observations this task is rarely seen all the way through to an accurate assessment of compatibility.

I strongly suspect that there is no man alive or dead who has ever actually liked the act of dating--if you are one of them, then you are probably just lying to yourself. Historically, men haven't had much of a choice in the matter, have they, since dating has been part of the cultural context since at least Victorian times. Gay men have mostly been spared this dilemma because until recently they could not even date publicly, so they didn't, and would instead cut to the chase. For most men, gay and straight, this approach sounds absolutely ideal; it gets one right to the finish line without having to run the track. It does seem that dating is a heterosexual phenomenon--when two gay men try to do it, it can resemble trying to corral wild wolves into taking a walk on a leash.

Now that the country is on a gay marriage rainbow bandwagon, the pressure is on for gay folks. If society is going to "let us" play their game, then they expect us to follow the same rules they have had to suffer under. While that might be appealing to the younger people coming of age (who still buy into the cultural dating discourse and its sparkly promise), it presents a substantial challenge to those of us who have been ditching traditional dating protocol for twenty or thirty years of our adult lives. What are we supposed to do now, start dating each other? Well, from what I hear, that is exactly what gay people are doing, complete with dinners and chaste kisses on the cheek at the end of the night. Good grief! (Actually, most gay dates, if they have gone well, still end with sex, so we haven't really changed all that much.)

What is heard about less often is when someone decides to stop dating completely--not to nurse a broken heart or to sow their oats--but a cold, hard, forever stop. It seems there is an assumption that, if you are single and over the age of 18, you must either keep at the pursuit of love until the day you die, or at the most let aging or illness force you into retirement. Who in the world would make a conscious choice to quit, especially when you still have a few laps around the track?

Well, I am an over-fifty year old gay man, and I have decided to forever stop dating.

***
In show business, they always say that it is best to "go out on top", and yet somehow this rarely happens. Lucile Ball continued to work in television long past the time when she was getting good show scripts. Joan Crawford insisted on acting in movies even when Hollywood did not want her anymore (of course she needed the paycheck, poor thing!). To this day, Arnold Schwarzenegger shows up occasionally in "action" films, even though his face and body are sadly deteriorated from his 80's heyday. I have always admired the character played by Ruth Gordon in "Harold and Maude", because she made a decision to end her life on her 80th birthday, before time and age took too much of a toll on her body and mind. Now that is taking control of things!

I would like to go out on top, or at least as close to the top as I may get.

Dating, for gay men, tends to be either a joke or a nightmare, and seldom does it land in anywhere near the middle of the two. As I said earlier, when I was much younger I never engaged in anything like gay dating--just gay sex. For me, that would sometimes lead to something resembling a relationship (what I called it at the time). Truth be told, the relationships I had in my twenties were little more than gay sex, but with names attached. But damned if I didn't think I was in love. It sure felt like love, or how I thought love should feel. What it was, actually, was immediate infatuation with a healthy side of attachment injury. Fun!

Over the years I have tried my hand at any number of approaches to dating. None of them were complete failures, but many were jokes, and a few were nightmares. But then I am not really sure what would qualify as success, either. How do I define success unless I know why I am dating? In my youth, the goal was simple: I wanted to fall in love and be loved in return. FOREVER. I didn't care how it happened, I just wanted it to happen. Today, as a couples therapist, I see men and women all the time who set out for that same destination only to find themselves arriving instead at resentment, boredom, and disappointment. Is true love no more than a big shiny car with a broken steering wheel? What the hell is true love anyway? Why in the world would I want to date at this point in my life?

***
One time, in a therapy group composed of gay men, I had just finished ranting on the shitty men of my love life, and one of the group members said to me, in response to my complaints, "What if it's you, and not them?" I looked at him incredulously, wondering how he could dare say something so insensitive and cruel. How could it be me? I wanted love so badly--why would I possibly do anything to send it away? Since that time, I confess that I have sent many loving men away, and I find myself wondering, in the dark of the night, with the sound of my youth crumbling to the floor, "What if it is me, and not them?"

Today, I have come to the conclusion that it is me, and, well, it isn't. Both participants in a relationship are responsible for how it turns out, and I am willing to own my part. But I am not always difficult and demanding, I was just drawn to react that way, in certain circumstances, through early life experiences. It is a bittersweet dilemma that I find myself in, because even though today I am aware of having more choices in my dating behavior, I have recently concluded that nobody is good enough for me anyway. Nobody. You were right after all, Mom! Nobody will ever have my back the way I have had it all these years. Nobody could ever take my side, heal my pain, celebrate my joy, or let me enjoy solitude as well as I can. Life has forced me to become the best I could ever be for others, but more importantly, I have become the best I could ever be for myself. Nobody could possibly ever live up to my own expectations of myself, or of them.

So that is why I am giving up dating, because it is an activity with no finish line. I just cannot settle on a reason to continue doing it. People who date and get married are celebrated as if they are they have achieved the only interpersonal goal worthy of celebration, but what about when someone does a great job nurturing themselves, or having an alternative type of relationship? Like Carrie Bradshaw once said, why don't people celebrate when you get through life successfully on your own? I do not need someone to take my side, heal my pain, celebrate my joy, or leave me alone when I need solitude. I do not need what I can give myself. I don't.

But...

What would be nice is someone to stand by my side, hold my pain, share my joy, and respect my need for solitude on occasion, to change things up. I just suspect that I would not find that person through the act of dating...as I know it. I may not find that person by dating at all. How might I find that person then, assuming that this desire even becomes something I want to pursue? First, I must tell you the truth about dating, and why it is a terrible way to get to know someone and find out if there is relationship compatibility. You are free to disagree with what I am about to say, but that does not mean that I am not right.

***
Dating, as it has been done for the last 100 years, is fraught with pitfalls, primarily because it inspires expectation.

The expectation centers around the perfectly reasonable hope that we will find our date attractive and emotionally compatible, but those two desires can conflict with each other in the early stages, causing our rationality to jump the track. The result can be inaccurate evaluation of compatibility based on high sexual attraction, OR the dismissal of compatibility due to lack of initial attraction. Neither case is helpful in our goal to form a good relationship. So what do we do?

Before the onset of Internet dating in the mid-90's, a portion of heterosexual couples met at work. By 2005 that number had decreased, with the Internet eventually taking over as the place where a lot of couples met. Studies go on to indicate that the divorce rate increased during the same time period that incidents of partnering with someone at work decreased. The significance of this fact is that there is a major difference between meeting someone at work, and meeting someone online. That difference, in my opinion, is expectation. In a work setting, romance can come slowly as one gets to know another. There may not even be a physical attraction at first; it may appear and grow as one gets to know another casually without the expectation of romance. Even if there is a strong attraction, we generally proceed with more patience because of the shared work environment. At work, we get a chance to see others in "regular" situations, both good  and bad, and we get to observe a variety of their responses! This way of getting to know someone does not guarantee a happy union, but it does lend more strength to the possibility of that outcome.

Conversely, online dating provides the space to prepare our best faces and responses in an ideal presentation framework. Compatibility decisions are usually made based on sexual attraction and romantic behavior. This is not a bad thing altogether, but it does make it harder to know what someone is going to be like in the long run. I could write much more about these differences, but the take-away is that we have a better chance to determine compatibility when we are around a person a lot, over time, in regular and romantic circumstances, without the high expectations of romantic dating. Most experts agree that at least a year is a good amount of time to get past the honeymoon stage and get a glimpse of who someone will be on a daily basis.

For gay men, this presents a unique challenge, since our regular work circumstances tend to be primarily populated by heterosexuals (and closeted homosexuals)--not the most fertile dating ground! However, gay men do not need to work around other gay men to experience the growth of feelings over time--any work situation can give one the opportunity to notice the effect that prolonged exposure has on the way we think about someone. But if a gay man is looking for romantic relationship, then somewhere, somehow, there must be another gay man involved in the process, and therein lies the challenge.


***
For me, it is difficult because I no longer use dating profiles to find dates. That is because I am done with being attracted to a profile more than the person behind it. I am done with presenting myself as a commodity to be approved or disapproved, based on a photo and a paragraph. I live in a city where most people know how to write good copy (including me), but know less about how to live it. So I see online profiles as an expendable middle man that gets in the way of the authentic experience of a person. I know they serve as introductions, but if that is misleading, and more effort is put into glossy introductions than a quality first act, then what is the point.

So I am not going to do that anymore. That is the cold, hard, stop. I will not date that way anymore, I am giving it up. What I will be doing instead is still up for discussion, but I do know that it involves real time, real life interactions and in-person chemistry. Maybe. I don't even know if it is that important to me anymore--to date someone or to be in a relationship. I am different now than I was when I was in my 20's; then, I thought that a relationship would give me what I needed. Now I think a relationship could give me what I prefer--but what is that? I described some of it above, but if I am going to date or consider a relationship in order to obtain these things, it is going to start in a completely different way than what has come before. I am giving up the cultural norm of dating. I am stopping that, forever. For me, it has never yielded a satisfactory emotional outcome, only the physical equivalent of farmer's market fruit: sweet and satisfying when consumed right away, but rotten a few days later.

In a gay men's group that I am currently in, one group member said that he was planning to stop working so hard at trying to get dates, and instead just "live his life". That sounds like a good plan. Funny things can happen on the way to the Forum, and that is just what I intend to explore. I am done with dating. Time to just live my life and pay attention to who I bump into in the process.

leaving my youth, backwards

i am still perplexed by this thing we call "turning 50".  i have never in my life run up against something this perplexing!  everybody told me that after a while, life would just continue on as it had before, but how long before "a while" has passed?  cuz i am here to tell ya that life is not as it was before.  damned perplexing, it is.

tonight i was planning to attend a "bike night" at the hammer museum in westwood.

it was part of the los angeles "bike to work week" that occurred this week.  it sounded fun!  there was going to be all kinds of bike related activities"  photos with you and your bike, t-shirts made, new products, art, films, and lots and lots of people on bikes.  just look at how crazy fun the poster looks!

and i was planning to be one of the crazy bike people.  but damned if the evening didn't arrive and i just had no energy to make the trek to westwood, which would have involved either a 45 minute bike ride, or a 30 minute bus ride and a 10 minute bike ride, and then reverse that for the return trip.  you see, what most car drivers take for granted is the ease of getting places.  that is why i am amused at how upset people get when they have to wait for a few fucking seconds in their car.  it must just be unbearable sitting there in your car with temperature control, comfortable seats and stereo music.  just unbearable!

now when i have to go someplace, i have to pedal there.  with my legs and with my feet.  true, i rarely have to wait for anyone, but i don't move unless i exert effort.  physical effort.  and must i remind you that i am 50?

well, the effort to get to westwood tonight was just too too much for me to think about, despite the premise of fun that potentially awaited me.  but let's face it, who wants to be around a bunch of fun folks when the eyes are drooping?  not me, kids!

the funny thing is that i would have fit in just fine there, despite the fact that most of the attendees would have been half my age or more.  because i just don't "look" 50, at least as far as people expect 50 to look.

couple years ago at a bike event

a year ago for halloween--i apologize for NOTHING!

a few months ago at work

and that is the rub.  i seem to be aging "backwards" from the way most people age.   most people, it seems, lose the body and the face and the youthful appearance WAY before they lose the youthful way of thinking.  

and that sucks.  who wants to be in an older body with the thoughts and desires of a younger man? (think woody allen in "manhattan")  i, on the other hand, seem to be reclining into the thoughts of an older man, while retaining my youthful body and such.  in other words, imagine having a perfectly working order espresso maker, but you no longer want to drink coffee.  what becomes of the appliance?  you can't throw an expensive item away, so you keep it on the counter, and friends come over to your house and comment on how beautiful it is and how great it is to have it, to which you respond, "yeah, it is nice, but i really have no use for it anymore, so it just sits there, unused".

get the picture?

i am not ready to start thinking like an older man.  tonight, i did not "think" like a man of 50, i "thought" like a man of 60, or at least how i imagine a man of 60 would think.  and meanwhile, my "appliance" sits there, in fantastic condition, unused.  i am aging backwards.