THREE GUYS AND A GAL

It is not often that a woman of my age is privileged to have dinner with three vibrant, intelligent, and charming young men. Last evening I was lucky enough to be so honored. One of the men, the same age as my daughter, has been a friend for a very long time—perhaps twenty-five years. We have a shared history of both joyful and sorrowful occasions and over the years we have developed a deep and abiding love for one another. He is a man who is unfailingly kind, enormously generous, and wise for his years.

Another I met when he was seated next to me on a recent plane trip to California. We chatted briefly near the end of the flight, just long enough to recognize a kinship of interests, outlook, and to discover that we had some mutual acquaintances. We exchanged email addresses and promised to get together when we returned home. The third person at the dinner was this man’s partner. All three of these men are gay.

When I returned home from my trip, I mentioned to some of my friends the unusual encounter on the plane. It is not often that a young man bothers to speak to—or even acknowledge—an old woman. I was struck by this man’s candor regarding his sexual orientation and by his extraordinary willingness to engage me in conversation. This ability to be comfortable with women of all ages seems to me to be a quality more commonly found in gay men than in straight men. Perhaps because they are so often marginalized by society at large, gay men seem to have a special empathy for others who are also frequently demeaned by our culture—such as old women.

The third man in our dinner group, and the youngest, was the most reserved of our talkative foursome, but I sensed a depth of feeling and intellect in him. He is a playwright who is currently in a graduate program for his Ph.D.; the other two men are settled firmly and successfully into their careers. This student/writer told of his grandmother’s upcoming eightieth birthday. So I was born the same year as his grandmother! Our small group represented three generations. This scholarly man could have been my own grandson.

What was so utterly delightful about the evening was that our differences in age, in gender, and in life circumstances seemed not to matter in the least. Our conversation was animated and flowed easily, with an unusual intimacy growing out of an immediate sense of trust and openness. The life stories each man told were deeply touching and often astounding. One is adopted, and has reconnected with his birth mother. But of course the most poignant narratives were those of what it means to be a homosexual in what is all too often a homophobic or hostile environment. The courage these men have displayed in their willingness to face and embrace their authentic selves is impressive. I am fortunate to count them as my friends.