My boyfriend and I have a pretty significant age difference (he's 40 and I'm 25) and even though he's handsome and smart and bla bla bla I do worry about what's going to happen when we both get old. Granted, I could probably die before him given the frightening state of the world (and the fact that so many latent jihadis have taken to tagging me a bigot and are probably out for my blood as we speak), but my point is that the thought of either of us winding up alone, or worse, together and without our friends, is something that we talk about every now and again.
Well, we needn't fear anymore.
Check out this article in USA Today about new communities for gay seniors, one of which has popped up in Santa Fe. The story profiles a darling couple in their 70s who "feared ending up like a lot of older gay men they know — no children, partners dead or gone, families estranged, little to do but sit in their New York City apartments hoping the phone rings."
Living in Chelsea, where I have to plan an outfit just to buy a carton of milk (you should SEE the judgment cast on you by the nobodies sitting at Cafeteria when you're just trying to go about your business) it's hard to think about your life forty years from now -- it's a very here-and-now existence, it's all about the surface, and it's expected that older, uglier queers will one day leave the settlement and let the wolves eat them. Or move to the Upper West Side.
But seeing as I'm not a fan of the UWS, I'm elated to know that not only is there a place for James and I to go when we're old, but it's a place where I will be able to live my permatan dream of hot pool boys and cosmos. And just think, in forty years, with a good plastic surgeon and the help of some over the counter pick-me-ups, those pool boys might be in for a little more than they bargained for ;-)