- Joined
- May 15, 2004
- Posts
- 1,618
- Media
- 12
- Likes
- 809
- Points
- 333
- Location
- Munich (Bavaria, Germany)
- Sexuality
- 80% Gay, 20% Straight
- Gender
- Male
Just noticed: the blurb below my avatar says I joined this board in 2004. In truth, I’ve been a member for a bit longer than that.
It means that when I last introduced myself—if I ever did, I can’t recall—I would have been in my mid-forties. Maybe it’s time for a re-introduction, this time as a 62 year-old man. (My pics are current, since I still have the Hawaiian shirts)
What have I got to say for myself at 62? It’s that my sixties are turning out way better than I ever expected.
No, I haven’t retired yet. Financially, that’s still a way off. But I have started my own business, and it’s great.
My sex drive ain’t what it was in my twenties. But it’s better than it was in my forties. Shedding stupid inhibitions gave me an erotic boost. And a sexy husband helps.
Yes, age-related health issues have crept up on me. But they’re manageable. Type 2 diabetes runs in our family, but I’ve managed to keep it at bay by being careful. When my father was my age, he’d been on insulin for half a decade.
I have lived with the German healthcare system for a dozen years, and many meticulous doctors have identified and fixed long-standing health problems. Sleep apnea. Deviated septum. I always thought I was a wimp for not being able to run long distances, until my doctor said it was no wonder, since one leg is shorter than the other. Like, it’s been true all my life, and it took until now for someone to notice.
But the biggest game changer, health-wise and everything-else-wise, was being diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 58. (I credit moving to Germany with this discovery. If you want to be corrected every time you’re not paying attention, this is definitely the right place!). Medications made a dramatic difference. Reading, writing, thinking...all much easier and more productive. I’m even considering going back to law school, or to grad school.
I don’t regard myself as a wise man, but I’m much wiser than I was. What they say about not giving a fuck what other people think about you as you get older, is absolutely true. This wisdom helped me deal with plenty of family-of-origin issues. It took me until the age of 61 to actually say to myself that I wasn’t such a bad kid, in spite of my parents’ opinion. That small insight is a source of great comfort.
In the novel Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter, by Peruvian novelist Mario Vargas Llosa, the titular scriptwriter was aging out of his talent. The first appearance of any hero in his scripts would carry the description of a man of fifty, in the prime of his life. That was meant as a running joke. But the way I feel right now, I think Vargas Llosa pitched it a little too young.
Plenty to be grateful for. And I’m happy I can talk about it in a friendly, open place like this.
Who else is happy to be sixty?
It means that when I last introduced myself—if I ever did, I can’t recall—I would have been in my mid-forties. Maybe it’s time for a re-introduction, this time as a 62 year-old man. (My pics are current, since I still have the Hawaiian shirts)
What have I got to say for myself at 62? It’s that my sixties are turning out way better than I ever expected.
No, I haven’t retired yet. Financially, that’s still a way off. But I have started my own business, and it’s great.
My sex drive ain’t what it was in my twenties. But it’s better than it was in my forties. Shedding stupid inhibitions gave me an erotic boost. And a sexy husband helps.
Yes, age-related health issues have crept up on me. But they’re manageable. Type 2 diabetes runs in our family, but I’ve managed to keep it at bay by being careful. When my father was my age, he’d been on insulin for half a decade.
I have lived with the German healthcare system for a dozen years, and many meticulous doctors have identified and fixed long-standing health problems. Sleep apnea. Deviated septum. I always thought I was a wimp for not being able to run long distances, until my doctor said it was no wonder, since one leg is shorter than the other. Like, it’s been true all my life, and it took until now for someone to notice.
But the biggest game changer, health-wise and everything-else-wise, was being diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 58. (I credit moving to Germany with this discovery. If you want to be corrected every time you’re not paying attention, this is definitely the right place!). Medications made a dramatic difference. Reading, writing, thinking...all much easier and more productive. I’m even considering going back to law school, or to grad school.
I don’t regard myself as a wise man, but I’m much wiser than I was. What they say about not giving a fuck what other people think about you as you get older, is absolutely true. This wisdom helped me deal with plenty of family-of-origin issues. It took me until the age of 61 to actually say to myself that I wasn’t such a bad kid, in spite of my parents’ opinion. That small insight is a source of great comfort.
In the novel Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter, by Peruvian novelist Mario Vargas Llosa, the titular scriptwriter was aging out of his talent. The first appearance of any hero in his scripts would carry the description of a man of fifty, in the prime of his life. That was meant as a running joke. But the way I feel right now, I think Vargas Llosa pitched it a little too young.
Plenty to be grateful for. And I’m happy I can talk about it in a friendly, open place like this.
Who else is happy to be sixty?
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