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I'm not afraid of getting old anymore. I used to think that all an aging gay man had to look forward to was the gay bowling league, bingo nights hosted by drag queens, sex with strung out hustlers who rip you off and call you a troll behind your back, and lonely nights in front of the TV watching reruns of the Golden Girls. But I've since learned it doesn't have to be that way.

I'm 35 years old; in gay years that's late middle age-- twilight in Tinker bell land. At least that's what I used to think. But I recently sat down with a few of my old, and older, friends and asked them some nosey and prying questions about what it's really like to be a mature gay man.

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The first older gentleman I'd like to introduce you to is my friend Matt. We met nearly seven years ago when we both worked for the same television station. Looking back, it's funny that we would make friends at all because I was the resident in-your-face radical queer activist at the network, and he was a major closet case. Not out to family, friends or co-workers, Matt kept a low profile about anything homo. In retrospect, just being seen having coffee with me seems like a bold move on his part.

At the time we met, his 25-year-long marriage was just ending and, at the age of 48, he was starting a new life -- a new life as a single person, and a new life as a gay man. All the stereotypes I'd picked up in my certain slice of gay life flooded in my head. I shouldn't have underestimated him, or jumped to conclusions about what other people find attractive.

Matt and I had an intense friendship from the beginning. We talked openly with each other on just about every imaginable subject, confiding our secrets and checking out boys like dormitory school girls. He was an older and wiser man to give me general advice on life, and I was an example to him on how to be comfortable and confident about one's sexual orientation. We did coffee by day and the baths by night.

Although Matt and I have never had sex, we have often gone out cruising together. We would check into the tubs, have a drink at the bar, split up, get laid, and then meet up again and tell happy tales of tricks. The first few times we went out, I was a bit skeptical of the stories he was telling me. He claimed to be getting laid by every hot Tom, Dick, and Harry in the place. Guys I had a hard time getting at 20 years his junior.

So one night I tried an experiment. Instead of taking off to do my own thing when Matt went to his room, I hung back just down the hall in the shadows with a view to his door. I leaned against the wall trying to look causal, and I watched and I waited. I wanted proof of these supposed hot guys.

One older man after another, men I knew were on the scrubby borderlands of his love map, approached his door and asked to come in and were politely sent away. Then along came this 20-something little cutie with nice pecs and big biceps. He slowed as he passed my friend's room and took a good long look, then slowed to a near stop and then gracefully walked right in without asking permission and shut the door behind him. I continued to wait. It doesn't sound very nice, but I figured the low-lighting was hiding my friend's age, the kid would soon discover his error and be back out in a minute. Wrong. I waited quite awhile before concluding this was the real thing and went back down to the bar to contemplate what I had seen.

Matt came down later and sat down beside me. I had a question for him before he said anything: "How much money did you come here with tonight?" I asked him. "About ten bucks," he said, "I used a free pass to get in." I saw he had a ten dollar bill in his hand that he was going to use to buy a drink and so it was obvious he still had that ten bucks and didn't pay the kid anything to have sex with him.

"So, any luck tonight?" was my next question, playing dumb. "Some," he said. "The guy was all right." I looked at him incredulously. "Just all right?" I asked. "Yeah. He was medium cute," he replied. I thought about it for a moment and thought to myself that if he just considered the kid medium, what did some of the guys he called hot look like.

I never doubted Matt again after that "experiment" and over the years have certainly seen many more of those hot little twinkies coming and going from his room. For the first couple of years, Matt and I were both dedicated to the single life and slutted around quite a bit. I don't think I can remember a single night the two of us have gone out and he's complained about not getting laid, although I certainly have on many occasions.

After a while, Matt decided to give actual dating a try. His strategy was simple: instead of just fucking them, he would talk to them after and see what he could strike up. It was a simple plan and it worked like a charm. The stack of little pieces of paper with phone numbers began to pile up on his coffee table in no time. He picked one he liked-- at least one he said was hot in bed-- and invested some time in him.

He boy was in his early 20s, cute, reasonably smart and employed. Most importantly, though, he was utterly devoted to Matt. He was intrigued by Matt's success as a professional and creative person, and respected him as a person. The kid did whatever Matt wanted whenever he wanted it. Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll-- no problem. It seemed like a good set up to an outside observer.

There was only one thing: Matt didn't really want a boyfriend and when the kid started to get a little controlling, nagging about his smoking and bad habits, Matt didn't hesitate-- he dumped him and got a new boy toy. The next one lasted about as long, around six months, until Matt got bored with him and dumped him too. There were many others waiting to take his place, but Matt just told them to take a number.

Matt's next phase was the internet. He posted a good picture, a semi-accurate profile, and cast his line and waited patiently like a seasoned fisherman. He didn't catch carp like I expected, but rather prize trophy fish. His secret wasn't the picture or profile, it was all in the fact that he got to chat with them on-line before anything happened. That can be one of his strongest character traits. He can be very much like a psycho-therapist, sensing your deepest needs and stroking your ego. He knew just what these guys wanted to hear and said it exactly when they wanted to hear it.

That was also his biggest difficulty. These guys liked it, and him, so much he could never get rid of them. They all wanted to have relationships when he just wanted to get his dick sucked. It's pretty hard to feel sorry for the guy. If only we all had such terrible problems.

Scott: flexible flyer

My next friend is a man I'll call Scott. He's a 50-year-old professional blessed with both a good brain as well as brawn. I can't tell you too many details about him because he's paranoid somebody might figure out who he is.

I envy Scott in a lot of ways. He has a successful career, a boyfriend who loves and respects him, nice things and a future with much promise. He's got it together enough to go out and get everything he wants. And one of the things he wants is boys-- bent over forward, backwards and sideways-- and lots of them.

He's been in a committed long-term relationship with a significantly younger man for a number of years. They're well suited to each other and confident and secure enough in their relationship that they feel comfortable openly fucking other guys on the side. Such an arrangement is not for everyone, but for them it works.

Once a week, Scott and I meet for drinks. We catch up on what's going on in our lives, talk politics and gossip about friends and lovers. I enjoy my visits with Scott and as a result we're quite close and I know him well. I have his permission to share some of his secrets with you.

Scott was also a late bloomer as a homosexual. He didn't come out until he was 28. But once he finally shed the pretense of being a heterosexual, he also dropped the pretense that he shared any of their mainstream values. He's been doing the town, and every hot guy in it ever since.

He meets guys in the bars, baths and sex clubs. Despite his success as a slut, he still lacks total confidence in his cruising. "I fear rejection above all," he once told me. That means he doesn't chase the men he wants. "I let them come to me. That way I know they're interested. My worst nightmare is to find out some guy I'm having sex with isn't into me and they're only doing it because there's no one else around," he says.

He's always had body image and self-esteem issues, justified or not. That makes him very vulnerable. He self-medicates with drugs and alcohol to boost his armor. But don't get the wrong idea, he's no Neurotic Nelly. He's just human, and a little bit sensitive. I think that's a good thing because it can make a person more sensitive to other people's feelings.

But those drugs and alcohol, combined with his age can sometimes make it difficult for him to get or maintain an erection. "That's not a problem for me," he says. He's doesn't have to fuck to have a good time and he's willing to be the passive partner if such an occasion arises. "A lot of what's hot about sex is upstairs," he tells me.

And he's adjusted what's going on up there over the years. Because Scott prefers younger men he can't always get exactly what he wants. So he's learned to expand his range of partners to include men who are perhaps a little older but still attractive enough to him to have a good time. He says he's sure others do it with him to. "If you're flexible, the gay world is flexible back," he says.

He says it's also democratic with room for everyone and everything. "There's always someone for you," he says. He thinks that anyone who believes they can't get laid because they're old is "just nuts." He has one more thought: "If you don't like sex, then getting old is a great excuse to stop."

George: pillar o' community

It certainly hasn't stopped my next friend. Dear old George Hislop was nearly 76-years-old when I interviewed him for this piece and still going strong. He managed to be a dirty old man and do it with dignity.

George, who died last October, had an interesting life. A leader in the gay rights movement, he was one of the first openly gay men to run for public office in Canada. For many decades, he held himself out publicly in the media and the community as an example of a well-adjusted, proud, happy homosexual.

Standing by his side in support for nearly three decades was his lover Ronnie. They loved each other very much, but like Scott and his partner, they had an open relationship. That meant George didn't miss a trick and still had someone to come home to every night who he could call his best friend.

Ronnie died suddenly about 15 years ago, leaving George a single older man. But George was a tough old bird and he adapted. He loved the company of young men and he went to places where he could find them-- hustler bars and bathhouses.

Don't get the wrong idea, George rarely paid for sex. He didn't because he couldn't afford it, and didn't have to anyway. They gave it to him. In his retirement, George's friends in the bath business set him up in his own private suite in the tubs where George could set up residence, come and go as he pleased, and hold court-- all for free.

By being around so much, and making himself available and being friendly, George got to know a lot of people, including most of the hustlers and their young friends. Sometimes those boys get horny and just want a quick blow-job, and George was always there to be accommodating. Sometimes they had sex with him because they were friends and they didn't mind. Whatever their reason, it was mutual, consensual, and good for all concerned.

George said one of the keys to success in these kinds of relationships between a much older man and a young man is that he didn't automatically expect reciprocation. He's happy to do the young man and not expect too much in return. But some do reciprocate, and that's all the better if that's what they want to do.

He also said that if you're going to hang around younger people "you have to understand how they think and relate to them on their terms." It seemed to work for him for a long, long time; when he became too ill near the end of his life to actually have sex anymore, he turned to an active relationship with porn and kept his relationships with the boys as friends. "I'm old, but I'm not alone and I'm not lonely," he once told me. And he maintained that he was happy right until the end.

And I was happy for him. I'm also happy for me and every other man in this community because it means that we don't have to be old and alone either.

Author Profile:  Joseph Couture

Joseph Couture is a journalist based on London, Ontario.