FLASHBACK: January 1974 in LGBT herstory
Jamie’s boyfriend showed up unexpectedly at his home one afternoon. Jamie had endured a jealousy-filled Pride weekend, with the boyfriend of six months openly flirting with other guys in front of him. But there stood his sweetie, a bouquet of flowers in his arms. Jaimie quickly noticed, though, that the roses were yellow, the colour of best wishes, not romantic red.
House hunters can be forgiven for reacting with a bit of skepticism when brokers speak of a home’s “good bones.” After all, the term can sometimes be code for a house that, despite it skeletal strength, requires considerable work to make it the nest of your dreams.
I am a 58-year-old gay guy who became single two years ago after my relationship of 18 years came to an abrupt end. At first, the idea of a new serious relationship was the farthest thing from my mind. But for the past year, I’ve been hoping to find love once again. The trouble is that I feel invisible in the gay scene—I walk into a bar and feel like a wrinkled dinosaur who is not remotely interesting to the guys hanging there. I’m a relatively handsome and fit guy, but I’ve gone on only one (really bad) date since the breakup. Sometimes I wonder if men around my age are already settled down or if they’re only on the hunt for fresh-faced young guys. How do I successfully find guys in a community that sees me as expired goods?
All I could think of was that early grainy photo of Earth taken from outer space. There was something familiar yet distant about the sonogram image of my partner’s first grandchild. In staring at the black-and-white pictures of baby’s first snooze, I felt a strong connection to this incubating Einstein-to-be. But then came a question that tempered some of my joy: what would he or she—the three-month mark doesn’t tell you everything—call me?
If you’re looking for a flashy crossover to make a scene at your local scene, keep on driving. Although the Lexus RX essentially invented the mid-size luxury crossover market, and still dominates, it’s not about flash. And that’s exactly what makes it so cool: its luxury takes you away from it all.
Anyone who’s ever been to the Schomberg, Ont., home of Philip Beatty and Steven Frankowski knows that a subsequent invitation is not to be turned down. “Because of our busy schedules, we don’t get to entertain nearly as much as we’d like to,” says Frankowski, who works for Rolex Canada, an hour’s drive away in Toronto. “But when we do entertain, we like to pamper our guests.”