Ok, I’ve decided to come out.” How much further out can you
get” I hear you ask. Well, we’re not talking sexuality here. We’re talking
about something much more contentious and something that carries a whole lot
more prejudice. Age.
My age is something I’ve purposely shrouded in a certain
amount of mystery for quite a few years now. Look around the internet and
you’ll see it documented as anything between 38 (on one or two rather old
websites) and 55. The truth is something of a surprise even to me. If someone
had told me when I was 20 that I’d still be gogo dancing, or making a living
out of sex at the age I am now, I’d have told them they were mad. People of my
age were old. They didn’t have sex anymore and they sure as hell never took
their clothes off in public, except maybe at the beach, and then only to swim.
For months before my recent birthday, I’d been
subconsciously dreading the event. I decided against a big party or any big
fuss. I hid my birth date on facebook to avoid the inevitable deluge of
birthday wishes from people I’ve never met. My intention was to let the day
slip by much like any other day.
That way, I figured, I didn’t have to think of
any big change occurring; and actually it worked. I don’t feel any different now
from how I did before this momentous event. The day arrived and nothing
changed. I was able to lift the same weight as I always did in the gym. I was
able to keep up the same intensity in my cardio workouts. The mere fact that I
am embarking on another decade of my life does not make me a different person.
Anyway most, no all of those I reveal my true age to are open mouthed with
disbelief. And indeed what have I got to moan about? I’m fit. I’m healthy. I’ve finally got most
of my insecurities out of the way. I actually like who I am. What’s more, I may
once have thought that older guys didn’t have much luck in the sex department,
but actually I find it easier to pull now than I ever did, and most of the guys
who run after me are young enough to be my son, some could even be my
grandson. They all think I’m younger
than I am, but when I tell them my true age,really that seems to turn them on
even more. I’m trying to think of the downsides, but honestly I can’t . There
surely hasn’t been a better time to be able to call oneself a “daddy”.
Of course, society has its version of what I should be like now, but I
have no interest in it. Society likes to pigeonhole people, put them in boxes,
but I’ve resisted all efforts to define myself by strict parameters all my
life. Why should I stop now? Those multiple choice questions with little boxes
you tick never seem to apply to me. I always need an extra one for the option “none
of the above”.
The young guys at Soho gym, where I work out, think I should
tell the world how old I am, more than one of them exclaiming, “I want to be
like you when I get to your age!” “You’re an inspiration!” said another, “you
should be proud”.
So that’s it. I’m coming out. At least to those of you who
read this blog. A few weeks ago I turned 60. As I said, I let this
momentous event slip by without any real
fuss, but I did do something to celebrate. I was asked to gogo dance at a club
and I did. I did this for one reason only – because I can. Well maybe there was
one other reason. When I’m 70, or 80, or 90, I want to be able to say I was
still gogo dancing when I was 60. For, you see, it is just a number. It does not define who I am or what I can do. I am me and I will adapt to the passing years
in my own way, not the way society would thrust upon me.
