Old Dogs, New Tricks

John and I have been together for two years now.  I’d like to think that we’ve moved into that phase we might call a “mature relationship”.  We’re very comfortable with each other, we usually know what to expect from each other from day to day, and we’ve passed the period where we need to be in each other’s presence 24/7.

There is something nice and reassuring about reaching that status in a relationship, but at the same time it can be a little frightening.  You wonder if you partner is as excited by you as he once was.  Are you stimulating enough for him, emotionally, mentally, sexually?  Or the same fears may arise about the relationship may crop up in the reverse, you might ask yourself whether this new “comfortable” phase is really what you want.  I have to admit that these questions have arisen in me from time to time.  Never in a soul-shaking sort of way, but as our relationship has evolved I’ve been self reflective.

Because of this I was particularly pleased today when John called me at work.  I asked him what he was up to this afternoon and he replied “I’ve been thinking about what you did to me last night”, referring to a new sexual position I initiated.  It excited and pleased me to think that even after two years there were times when I could get under my partner’s skin in a way that he’s still fantasizing about it the next day.

It’s surprising what a little change in routine or scenery can do for one’s sex life.  But, I wouldn’t credit our good sex life solely to sexual adventurism.  Openness about sexual desires and fantasies helped us be more trusting partners and have often provided fuel for our sexual fires, whether we act directly on those desires/fantasies or not.

 

Love With an Expiration Date

Over the past week I reread Christopher Isherwood’s novel A Single Man.  It came up in the film Chris and Don , bringing the book back to my attention.  I had read it several years ago, before being in a relationship, and I knew the new context of my life with John as well as the film would give the book new meaning.  The book follows a day in the life of a middle aged gay man named George who has recently lost his partner in a car accident.  The internal life of George features heavily in the book, giving it an exceptional emotional gravity.

With that at the fore of my mind over the past week, I have been thinking quite a bit about the impact of aging and death on intergenerational relationships.  The issue of advanced age and death has to be one of the issues that looms largest in the minds of intergenerational couples, particularly in cases like John and mine where there are multiple decades difference in the couple’s ages.  It is quite clear, that no matter how compatible the couple is or how in love they are, there is an expiration date on the relationship.  The obvious questions arise from both inside and outside the couple:  What happens when the older partner become physically or mentally incapacitated?  What will the younger partner do when the older dies?  In a long term committed relationship between men of widely differing ages the phrase “till death do you part” becomes less a romantic gesture and more an ominous portent.

The issue of John’s advancing has come up a few times, but we haven’t discussed it at great length.  We are fortunate at the moment that he’s in great shape for his age, healthy and active.  But our age difference accentuates the fact that, most likely I’ll witness his decline well before I enter my own.  He’s mentioned that he may go back east to an assisted care facility near one of his sons.  I understand the reasoning, but this idea fills me with dread.  On the one hand they’ll likely have the resources financially or familial that I might not be able to provide.  They will certainly be better able to direct his care than I could here considering the legal and prejudicial hurdles I’m sure we would confront.  I also couldn’t fault either John or his children and grandchildren for wanting to be near each other in his final days.  However, I fear that I may not be able to follow him wherever he goes, but I’m deeply saddened at the thought of being away from him and he being away from me when he might need me the most.

I am also aware that I’ll face unique challenges after John’s passing.  John is such a huge part of my life, I know that when I lose him, no matter how it happens, I will be devastated.  Because of our unique relationship and our families’ skepticism of it, I fear that there won’t be much emotional support when he’s gone.  I vainly hope that I might maintain some small relationship with John’s kids; a continuing connection to this man I love, but I know it’s not likely to be.  I’ve also come to realize that, as a geographic transplant, John is central to my social network here.  Without him I fear isolation and depression.

I know that these concerns can’t be unique to John and I.   It is saddening to contemplate them, and to think that gay couples in general and intergenerational couples specifically seldom have institutions or traditions to turn to in confronting this part of our lives.  The bright side of all the morose contemplating I have been doing lately is that it has reinvigorated my love for John and reminded me that I can’t take him for granted; I don’t have the time.

 

Homeland: Perhaps We Can Go Back Again, Pt. 2

In the last post I began recounting my experience of coming out to my parents.  Today’s post concludes the narrative.

As Christmas of 2008 drew nearer both John and I became more anxious about how my parents might react to us.  During phone calls they were generally pretty reticent to discuss my relationship, but I knew that my return home for Christmas would advance the conversation.

Fairly early on, John decided that it would be a nice gesture if he sent them a little gift.  Eventually we decided it would seem less presumptuous if we sent a gift together, so we ordered them a gift basket to be delivered directly to their house.  John also sent along a Christmas card wishing them the best and included a photo of the two of us together.  I had already sent them photos in the past, but this one ended up taking on greater significance.

By the time my trip back home came around I was pretty nervous.  I was only going for a handful of days and each was scheduled with family events long before I headed to the airport.  Overall I was pleased by my return home.  I feared that an atmosphere of tension might permeate my whole visit, but from the outset my parents seemed comfortable with my return.  However, it did seem that, on the drive home, the issue of my coming out was a proverbial elephant in the room that no one wanted to bring up.

Once getting to the house my parents thanked me again for the gift we sent; it had arrived quite early and they had previously thanked John and I over the phone.  I was also pleasantly surprised to find that they had framed the photo John had sent and had it sitting with other family photos on a shelf in the living room.  It was a subtle but reassuring sign of my parents’ position on our relationship.

Throughout the trip it was my father that made the most direct overtures of interest or approval.  At one point, while my mother was out doing shopping, he broached the subject.  He managed to stealthfully complement both John and I by saying that I had good judgment in people.  At that time he mentioned that he’d also like to meet John and that perhaps he and my mother would come out for a visit.  Unfortunately when the subject of a visit was broached again later with my mother she seemed much more resistant.  She cited the economy as a primary factor, and she’s never been one to travel much anyway, but I can’t help but think that a sense of discomfort about my sexuality and the age difference between John and I were contributing factors.

I have been a little surprised that my parents waited as long as they did to ask questions about the age difference between John and I.  I sent them photos of John early last year, but it wasn’t until my Christmas visit that they pressed me on John’s age.  One morning while we were together in the living room my father asked “How old is John anyway, in his forties?”  I couldn’t help but laugh; John looks quite young for his age, but no one could reasonably mistake him for being in his forties.  My mother immediately responded “No! He has to be about my age”.  My mother, just turning 60 this year, was getting warmer.  “No” I said “he’s around dad’s age”.  I feel a little disingenuous not sharing John’s precise age, but, with my dad having just turned 70, there was no longer any pretense about the age gap between John and me.

Ultimately my visit with my parents was reassuring, but not earth shaking.  There were no tearful revelations or heartfelt late night talks.  For them the nature of my relationship was clarified and to a certain extent they were probably reassured that I hadn’t lost my mind; I’m the same son they knew and loved.  On my part, I received no profound embrace of John as the newest member of the family.  However it was encouraging to find that our family wasn’t fundamentally challenged by my revelations either. There were no hidden rifts in my relationship with my parents to be revealed only when we finally met again face to face. In fact I found small signs of encouragement, signs that my parents could accept my being gay, signs that my parents might be willing to get to know John and not just tolerate his presence in my life, signs that come in the form of a photo on a book shelf or a tin of home baked goodies my mother sent home with me for John.

 

Homeland: Perhaps We Can Go Back Again, Pt. 1

I have mentioned before that I thought that telling people that I was interested in older men was like coming out a second time and that the age difference between my partner and I was where I felt I would encounter the most resistance about our relationship.  I visited my parents over the holidays and really confronted the consequences of coming out to them face-to-face for the first time; thankfully without much anguish.  It is also now coming upon one year of being out to them and, in a way, that means one year of really, truly being fully out to the world.  It feels like a good time to reflect on the past year and this final, monumental step of coming out.

During November and December of 2007 I began seriously considering coming out to my parents.  For the first time in my life I was in a committed relationship, and the idea of coming out started to feel less like a lie of omission and more like a bold faced lie.  I began reading a number of books about coming out; I found Betty Fairchild and Nancy Hayward’s Now That You Know exceptionally helpful.  The idea of coming out to my parents filled me with anxiety.  We were always the sort of family that never talked about controversial topics, so sex and religion were generally off the table.  I had no concrete idea of how my parents felt about homosexuality.

When I went home for the holidays that year I intended to come out, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.  There was another sort of family crisis happening at the time that was already affecting the mood back home, and so I decided not to add to the stress of the season.  However, the visit was incredibly stressful for me;  having to make secretive phone calls to John, being unable to talk to my brother about the relationship for fear of being overheard, and the general dis-ease created by denying my relationship.

Upon returning home I decided that I needed to come out sooner rather than later.  In late January I mailed a coming out letter to my parents.  This isn’t a method I’d necessarily recommend to everyone, but I decided for my parents and I it was the best option at the time.  In my letter I discussed how I came to identify myself as gay, my personal journey with that identity, and how I now felt happy and successful in my life.  However I did not state that I was in a relationship or discuss John;  I decided I’d let them acclimate themselves to the idea that I was gay for a bit before jumping into the relationship side of it.

I waited about two weeks after mailing the letter before I contacted them.  I had hoped that they would call me first, but after giving them some time for the letter to reach them and for them to process what they read I called.  I spoke to my father first and was buoyed by his reception of my letter.  He told me that the thought that I might be gay had crossed his mind in the past and said that “people are they way they are, you can’t try to change them”.  He also related a story about someone he had gone to school with that had gotten married and had kids, but later came out and now lived with a partner.  I was elated at my father’s willingness to try to relate with me.

During the first call my mother hadn’t been at home, so I called back a couple days later.  She was clearly much more uncomfortable talking about the subject than my father was.  She asked some questions and didn’t seem too upset, but overall she seemed to want to avoid the topic.  She did ask me if I was in a relationship with the man I was living with and I admitted yes, but said I’d prefer to discuss him more later after they’d become more comfortable with the idea of me being gay.  I did convince my mother and father to check a copy of Now That You Know out of their local library.  I think it helped them innumerably as well.

Over the proceeding months I began to reveal additional information about John.  Eventually I wrote them a second letter.  Through both the letter and phone conversations I explained that I had always been attracted to older men, that John was exceptionally important to me, and that I considered him my partner.  I also sent them some photos of John.

By the time it came time for me to return home for Christmas of 2008 they were getting a pretty full picture of John.  They knew he was much older than me, though I still have yet to give a precise age, they learned he has adult children, and I often spoke to them about our life together.  However they seldom asked about John or even alluded to him in conversation unless I brought him up first.  I was anxious to see my parents face-to-face, to see if they would be more willing to discuss my homosexuality in person, and what questions they might ask about John.

Coming up:  My visit home during Christmas 2008.