We don’t talk about aging in the gay community nearly enough. We’re great at celebrating youth and reinvention and whatever’s shiny and new, but we don’t slow down enough to actually listen to the people who lived through the experiences that made our community possible in the first place.
This week I’m talking with 81-year-old Sean McCormick. He’s funny, he’s honest, and he’s got this huge heart that comes through in everything he says. I met Sean about three years ago, and we’ve become friends. When I started thinking about doing an episode on aging in the gay community, he felt like the perfect person to talk to.
Sean came out in the 1950s and 60s, way before being gay was something you could just say out loud. He remembers the coded looks, the piano bars like Kitty Sheehan’s in Chicago where he’d sing after a couple gin and tonics, the police raids, and the constant need to stay careful: to protect yourself and the people around you. He navigated being gay in the military during Vietnam, built a career as a deputy clerk in the appellate court, and found community in spaces that existed mostly in the margins.
He and his late husband Kent were together for 35 years: a relationship full of loyalty, adventure, travel, and deep companionship. After Kent died in 2019, Sean didn’t think he’d find that again. But then he met Arturo, and here he is at 81, still pursuing love. Still showing up. Still trying.
We talk about what it actually feels like to get older in a community that worships youth. Sean doesn’t sugarcoat it. He talks about feeling invisible at mixers, about the “cheerleader tables” that form even among older gay men, about how hard it is to put yourself out there when you’ve been rejected. But he also talks about the stuff that surprised him about aging: the confidence that comes with it, the clarity, the freedom of finally just being comfortable as yourself. “I’ve never felt so comfortable with myself,” he tells me. “Be me. Very simple. Be me.”
At the end, I ask Sean what he’d tell his younger self: that kid in the Army, or the guy just figuring out who he was. His answer comes fast: “It only gets better.”
This conversation reminded me that we’re strongest when we actually see each other across generations. When we listen. When we make room. Sean’s story is about perseverance and joy and the fact that becoming yourself doesn’t stop at any particular age. It just keeps going.
I’m really glad I got to share this one with you.
-David
A Queer POV: Friends, Loves, & Life with David
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