Friday, September 02, 2005
Old Gay vs. Young Gay
When I was in Pittsburgh last weekend, I met the most eclectic group of gay men. At 28 years old, my friend Mark and I were the youngest ones there. Upon entering the situation, I felt as though I was a little out of my element. It’s very rare for me to hang out with a group of gay guys to begin with, much less ones that were upwards of 62 years old. I was shy in the beginning, but once the alcohol started to flow, I had no trouble breaking out of my shell.
As the day wore on, I realized what it means to be an alcoholic. But to each his own and I did my best to rise above that and to drink at a much more casual pace. Not to say that I wasn’t pretty buzzed by the time I went to bed, but it will always surprise me that people allow themselves to get so fucked up that they are found laying on the ground, passed out in their own juices. Unreal.
In any case, at the end of my first night in Pitts., I walked into the mansion to find the 62 year old guy laying on the ground of the lobby, snoring. The Samaritan in me got him to his feet and basically carried him up the three flights of stairs. Once I had him sitting on the couch of his suite, his eyes popped open and we had the following conversation:
Old Guy: “Thank you for helping me Joe. I took some pills and drank too much.”
Me: “It’s ok. You just have to be careful. You were lying in the middle of the foyer.”
Old Guy: “I’m drunk. I have something I need to tell you.”
Me: “What is that?”
Old Guy: “I’ll give you whatever you want if you stay with me tonight.”
Me: “Oh, um, well. I can’t do that. I’m here with Mark.”
Old Guy: “I’m so lonely. I’ve only had 2 boyfriends in my life, but they weren’t like you. You understand me. You’re a young guy, but you seem wise.”
Me: “Thank you. I try to learn as much as I can about-“
Old Guy: “I’ll give you whatever you want: money, or a car or money if you’ll just give me a blow job or a hand job.”
Me: “UM! No, that wouldn’t be appropriate. Mark is downstairs waiting for me so-“
Old Guy: “Come on! I’ll give you whatever you want if you’ll just kiss me. Just kiss me.”
Me: “I can’t do that. Mark is waiting for me and I should go downstairs.”
Old Guy: (starting to cry) “Please Joe. Please don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone right now. I’m always alone.”
Me: “I can stay with you for a couple of minutes, but then I should really go downstairs.”
Old Guy: “Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.”
Me: “Ok, I have to go.”
I reached over and gave him a hug. He craned his neck up towards my face and I kissed him on the mouth because I felt guilty and sad for him. Next thing I know, his tongue is forced between my lips. My first reaction was to barf all over him, but after regaining my composure, I actually let his tongue dart around my mouth for a minute before pulling away. Five seconds into the kiss and it was over. I immediately turned towards the door and opened it.
Old Guy: “Don’t leave me here alone. Don’t leave.”
Me: “I have to go now. Good night.”
Old Guy: (whimpers)
I went downstairs with my mind racing. First of all, gross. Gross, gross, gross. But second of all, sad. Sad, sad, sad. I didn’t know how to get myself out of the situation without hurting his feelings, yet I didn’t want to get sucked into doing anything that I felt uncomfortable doing. Some of the things that this guy said struck a deep chord within my heart. How terrifying and awful to be 62 years old and to be completely alone. How do you live your life once you’re this age and you realize that you’re body and your mind are slowly deteriorating and you have no one to talk to about it? It broke my heart.
When I found Mark, I explained some of what happened to him. He immediately became incensed and wanted to run up the stairs and beat the shit out of the old guy. OBVIOUSLY, that wasn’t the right thing to do, nor a resolution to the situation. It was cute that he wanted to defend me in that way, but he’s not my boyfriend and I can take care of myself. I backed down from telling him about the kiss because I knew he would have a word with the guy at breakfast the next morning. I just let it go.
Many times over the last week I’ve thought about this moment and cringed. Half of me thinks the whole thing is bizarre and half of me is petrified that I’m going to end up just like him.
The next morning at breakfast, the old guy made no mention of what happened and neither did I. I thought it better to just let the whole incident go unrecognized. I figure he’s been through enough already. Course, he was plastered again by 2pm and I just made every effort to avoid him for the rest of the day.
Crazy shit, I tell ya.
When I was in Pittsburgh last weekend, I met the most eclectic group of gay men. At 28 years old, my friend Mark and I were the youngest ones there. Upon entering the situation, I felt as though I was a little out of my element. It’s very rare for me to hang out with a group of gay guys to begin with, much less ones that were upwards of 62 years old. I was shy in the beginning, but once the alcohol started to flow, I had no trouble breaking out of my shell.
As the day wore on, I realized what it means to be an alcoholic. But to each his own and I did my best to rise above that and to drink at a much more casual pace. Not to say that I wasn’t pretty buzzed by the time I went to bed, but it will always surprise me that people allow themselves to get so fucked up that they are found laying on the ground, passed out in their own juices. Unreal.
In any case, at the end of my first night in Pitts., I walked into the mansion to find the 62 year old guy laying on the ground of the lobby, snoring. The Samaritan in me got him to his feet and basically carried him up the three flights of stairs. Once I had him sitting on the couch of his suite, his eyes popped open and we had the following conversation:
Old Guy: “Thank you for helping me Joe. I took some pills and drank too much.”
Me: “It’s ok. You just have to be careful. You were lying in the middle of the foyer.”
Old Guy: “I’m drunk. I have something I need to tell you.”
Me: “What is that?”
Old Guy: “I’ll give you whatever you want if you stay with me tonight.”
Me: “Oh, um, well. I can’t do that. I’m here with Mark.”
Old Guy: “I’m so lonely. I’ve only had 2 boyfriends in my life, but they weren’t like you. You understand me. You’re a young guy, but you seem wise.”
Me: “Thank you. I try to learn as much as I can about-“
Old Guy: “I’ll give you whatever you want: money, or a car or money if you’ll just give me a blow job or a hand job.”
Me: “UM! No, that wouldn’t be appropriate. Mark is downstairs waiting for me so-“
Old Guy: “Come on! I’ll give you whatever you want if you’ll just kiss me. Just kiss me.”
Me: “I can’t do that. Mark is waiting for me and I should go downstairs.”
Old Guy: (starting to cry) “Please Joe. Please don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone right now. I’m always alone.”
Me: “I can stay with you for a couple of minutes, but then I should really go downstairs.”
Old Guy: “Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.”
Me: “Ok, I have to go.”
I reached over and gave him a hug. He craned his neck up towards my face and I kissed him on the mouth because I felt guilty and sad for him. Next thing I know, his tongue is forced between my lips. My first reaction was to barf all over him, but after regaining my composure, I actually let his tongue dart around my mouth for a minute before pulling away. Five seconds into the kiss and it was over. I immediately turned towards the door and opened it.
Old Guy: “Don’t leave me here alone. Don’t leave.”
Me: “I have to go now. Good night.”
Old Guy: (whimpers)
I went downstairs with my mind racing. First of all, gross. Gross, gross, gross. But second of all, sad. Sad, sad, sad. I didn’t know how to get myself out of the situation without hurting his feelings, yet I didn’t want to get sucked into doing anything that I felt uncomfortable doing. Some of the things that this guy said struck a deep chord within my heart. How terrifying and awful to be 62 years old and to be completely alone. How do you live your life once you’re this age and you realize that you’re body and your mind are slowly deteriorating and you have no one to talk to about it? It broke my heart.
When I found Mark, I explained some of what happened to him. He immediately became incensed and wanted to run up the stairs and beat the shit out of the old guy. OBVIOUSLY, that wasn’t the right thing to do, nor a resolution to the situation. It was cute that he wanted to defend me in that way, but he’s not my boyfriend and I can take care of myself. I backed down from telling him about the kiss because I knew he would have a word with the guy at breakfast the next morning. I just let it go.
Many times over the last week I’ve thought about this moment and cringed. Half of me thinks the whole thing is bizarre and half of me is petrified that I’m going to end up just like him.
The next morning at breakfast, the old guy made no mention of what happened and neither did I. I thought it better to just let the whole incident go unrecognized. I figure he’s been through enough already. Course, he was plastered again by 2pm and I just made every effort to avoid him for the rest of the day.
Crazy shit, I tell ya.
