Gay men over 60

MEN WHO LOVE OTHER MEN! 58K members Join Gay Men over 60+ 24K members Join A Gentlemen’s Community (A. They call the years after 60 and near retirement "The Golden Years," but are they? In interviews with several gay men over 60, a frequent comment was, "I feel invisible! It isn't easy to keep up with the younger generation of gays as we "baby boomers" continue to partake in the pleasures offered in the LGBT community, like popular gay vacation destinations and circuit parties.

Part of what it’s like to be 60 for me is that those heady days of frolicking and drunken fun – and what eventually became two- and three-day hangovers, are behind me. Even so, the virtual invisibility with which I can currently walk through a gay gym or neighborhood is a new experience, and it feels like a forced retirement. But I had a particular niche of mutual attraction and, at the risk of sounding like I lack all humility, I miss the attention at the gym, the free drinks at the bars and the extra chicken wing I used to find in my greasy carryout bag when I got home. Of course, all people feel anxiety about their bodies, but even a study found gay men are more likely than heterosexual men to report feeling pressure to look attractive.

As a gay man who recently turned 60, I’m pretty sure my life is over. Yes, it’s possible that the graying temples, eye wrinkles and extra padding – which has extinguished my dream of ever. By continuing to use our site, you agree to our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use. Today I turn 60, and perhaps one of the biggest surprises of being 60 is being so happy with who I am. At the same time, I am overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude.

Older LGBTQ+ people are far more likely to have no contact with their family and less likely to have children to help care for them, Da Costa says. Gay men over 60 are the precise generation that saw their peer group decimated by AIDS. The result: chronic loneliness and isolation. I would have started writing this piece earlier, but the tendonitis in my right foot sent me to the doctor scrambling for relief. Happens to anyone whose name is not Cher. My body, that instrument that, once upon a time, introduced itself before I did, is falling apart.