Why Older Gay Men’s Stories Still Matter
If you came of age in the 1970s or ’80s, you know a particular kind of silence. It was the silence of friendships that couldn’t be named, of love stories that couldn’t be spoken of, of funerals where the partner sat in the back row.
Many of us carry those memories alone. The community has moved forward, and thank goodness. Younger people live more openly than we ever dared to imagine. But somewhere along the way, a lot of older gay men started to feel like footnotes in our own history.
I don’t think we are. I think we’re the keepers of stories that later generations have somehow lost. It doesn’t help that book bans keep spreading through schools and libraries, and that some institutions have been caught quietly tidying us out of their exhibits. Nothing says “we’ve all moved on” like a museum editing us out of the guest list.
The friends we still talk to
Those of us who made it through the AIDS era will know exactly what I mean. Every gay man my age or older has someone he still talks to in his head. A friend who didn’t make it. A first love who vanished, only to be remembered on a quilt. A mentor who showed you how to walk into a room as yourself, long before the world made that easy. Those who faded into history, forgotten by people who never felt the pain it took just to survive.
Our generation built chosen family because we had to. We showed up for each other when nobody else would. We found each other in hidden bars and, for those desperate for connection, in secret parks, beaches, and seedy spots far from public view. Romantic? Not always. Glamorous? Please. But those bonds shaped who we are, and they deserve to be remembered out loud.
For those who survived
Anyone who lived through that era, when funerals outnumbered gay unions and celebrations, knows how hard it was to pick up the pieces. Slowly we healed. We rebuilt community and formed new families, often with a casserole in one hand and a eulogy in the other.
There are more stories than I could ever fit in one book, so I chose to focus on a few, mixing real-life situations into a fictional narrative for those of us who are gay and growing older.
Why I wrote Something About Martin
That’s the heart of my new book.
Martin Reily is 89, a widower, and he talks to his late partner Tony every single day. Tony’s been gone almost a year, and Martin doesn’t always remember that.
Then he meets Charlie. A broke college kid. A grocery store conversation. An impulsive offer of a spare room.
What follows is a story about grief, memory, chosen family, and a love so deep it doesn’t end. It just changes shape.
I won’t give away too much here. What I will say is that Martin is the kind of man many of us have known, or been. It’s a story about LGBTQ+ history, chosen family, and what we leave behind when we can no longer remember, but never stop loving.
Writing it reminded me how much of our lives happened in small, private moments that never made the history books. Those are usually the best ones anyway. History books skip the good gossip.
Stories as a way of staying connected
Loneliness is a real issue for older gay men. Many of us don’t have children or extended family nearby, and some lost our closest friends decades ago. A story can’t replace a person, but it can do something quiet and important. It can say: you were there, it mattered, and you aren’t the only one who remembers.
That’s what I hope Something About Martin offers. It isn’t a history lesson. It’s a quiet, honest look at Alzheimer’s and how it touches the people around us, well beyond the immediate family. I hope it feels familiar, and maybe a little healing.
Let’s start a conversation
I’d love to hear from you. Who is the person you still talk to in your head? A friend, a lover, a stranger who changed the way you saw yourself? Leave a comment below or send me a message through the contact page. I read every note, and yes, I answer them.
Something About Martin is now available as an eBook at JMS Books and on my Gunther Allen Amazon Kindle page.
If it speaks to you, please share it with a friend who needs a story like this one.
And if you’ve been feeling forgotten, please hear this: we’re still here, and our stories are still worth telling.
Gunther
Where to find older gay men
Organizations and support networks
- SAGE (sageusa.org): The national advocacy and services group for LGBTQ+ elders, with local affiliates, newsletters, and events.
- Prime Timers Worldwide: Social chapters for older gay and bisexual men, with regular meetups, dinners, and trips.
- LGBTQ+ community centers: Many run senior programs, coffee hours, and lunch groups. Check your local center’s calendar for events.
- LGBTQ+ senior housing communities: Places like Openhouse in San Francisco and Triangle Square in Hollywood host residents’ book clubs and author talks.
History and memory
- LGBTQ+ archives and historical societies: ONE Archives in Los Angeles, the GLBT Historical Society in San Francisco, and local equivalents often host oral-history nights and talks. These attract exactly the readers who’d connect with Martin.
- AIDS memorial events and Quilt displays: Many survivors attend annual remembrances, and your “remembered on a quilt” line speaks directly to them.
- Pride events and Pride elder contingents: Look for senior and “Stonewall generation” gatherings, which often have meet-and-greet tables.
Social and interest-based groups
- Gay men’s choruses and bands: These have long-standing members of all ages and often welcome community events.
- Front Runners and gay sports leagues: Bowling, swimming, golf, and walking groups. Your sports-pride post would pair well here.
- Gay veterans’ groups: Many members are of the right generation.
- Gay men’s book clubs and library programs: Often small, loyal, and happy to host an author.
Online
- Facebook groups: Search “gay men over 50,” “gay seniors,” and “growing up gay in the ’70s/’80s.”
- Meetup.com: Look for LGBTQ+ 50+ and gay men’s social groups near you.
- Alzheimer’s and caregiver communities: Because of Martin’s story, these have readers beyond the LGBTQ+ community, including partners and family caregivers.
