50 is middle of the road
Normally, I wouldn’t want to be older. But lately I am jealous of all my retired friends. Our friends in Santa Rosa, one is retired the other will retire in December. Our friend from Sacramento, she is here visiting for a few days and she retired last year. She proudly showed us her Medicare Card.
I don’t want to be old. I just don’t want to come to work anymore!
Being young has it’s advantages. For one thing I was more fit and attractive when I was younger, but now I get senior discounts, because Ricky is 11 years older then me. Some places actually give discount if you are over 50, so I get those too. There are those who fear retirement because they don’t think they will have any value if they are not working. I am not one of them. Work is not my life.
It’s funny how my perception of what is old has changed. I remember when I was a teenager thinking someone in their 20s was old. When I was in my 20s, I thought 30 was old. Now at 50 I think I am middle aged.
Too bad my body looks so damn old!!
Plastic surgery can take 10 years off, but look what happened to people like Bruce Jenner or Kenny Rogers! And the horror of it all, Barry Manilow!
I think I will just continue to grow old. Over the weekend we looked at a new retirement village that is supposed to cater to “gay” people. Never mine that the price was ridiculous, but I don’t see myself sitting around with old queens wrapped in feather boas. Sure its fun for a while but enough is enough. Why do you suppose they think we want to be segregated from the rest of the population anyway? Have you seen all “black” retirement homes? And how do you keep those damn Santa Rosa Lesbians at bay. That’s just who I want for a neighbor, some old mean butch dike. (You know I love them but really, at the breakfast table, no thanks!)
Should this be of interest to any of you. The cost to live there is the cost of a house (350,000) plus 2,800 a month. That’s what the straight place charges anyway. You don’t own anything. They keep that money up front. I am guessing the all “gay” resort will charge even more.
I think I would rather move to Palm Springs. That’s where gay men are supposed to go and die, isn’t it? Under the swaying palm trees and the heat of the desert. My skin will turn to a lovely wrinkled tan hide. There are “other” people there too. I do so love variety. The best thing about Palm Springs is they accept us for who we are and they don’t run and hide or patronize too much. In the words of some old drag queen or was she a lesbian, ” I just want to be left alone!”