and art, among others. With the exception of one churchgoing core member, the others were mostly not actively involved in their religion, including gay congregations. The family background of the participants was Italian, Jewish, and other whites. One regular was African American. I was the only foreigner attending. Rarely did participants mention their ethnic background as part of their presentation of self. During discussions, however, a reference might sometimes be made to an Italian family tradition, for instance. Jewish identity was typically revealed indirectly through joking or using Yiddish terms.
The meetings started at 7:30 p.m. and ended by 9:30, after which all in attendance were invited to adjourn to a nearby diner for drinks or food. Only the regulars, or newcomers who had an interest in future attendance, joined that fellowship, which lasted about an hour. An area at the back of the restaurant was rearranged to enable the group to sit together around one table. While the two-hour meeting at the Center was a structured event led by a facilitator (from among the regular participants), the discussions at the diner were more freewheeling. These late gatherings often included gossip about regulars who did not attend and newcomers who did, as well as personal stories volunteered by those present. This was also an opportunity for core group members to arrange weekend outings to a movie or an exhibition, or plan activities for upcoming holidays. In my observation, these social activities only rarely entailed romantic involvement. Except for a few fleeting encounters—and one regular being suspected of importuning newcomers—I did not hear of dating within the group.
What I proffer in this chapter as well as those following is a second, or perhaps a third, stage in the process of ethnographic construction of the life of the group. I was inevitably selective in the first round, as I wrote down my field notes. I was selective again during the phase of writing the major part of this chapter. However, these leading themes, even if chosen and magnified through my subjective perception, nevertheless introduce an important component of the discussion and events that took place during the many evenings I spent in the company of the SAGE membership.2 A few of the major participants, as well as a “sample” of the stories and issues they shared with their veteran and newly arrived colleagues at the weekly meetings, are introduced next.
Love, Sex, and Discontent
The meetings usually started with a go-around. Each participant introduced himself by name and mentioned what had affected him most during the week since they had last met. For the regulars, this represented an updating of the group on key themes in their life histories. The facilitator summed up the major issues raised during the introductions and suggested probing more deeply into one or two themes that seemed most fruitful for a group discussion. One could describe these two-hour meetings as weekly oral diary sessions, filled out and expanded with the help of questions and comments raised by sympathetic listeners.
The participants consistently objected to defining their weekly gatherings as a “support group” or even as “meetings,” a term they associated with Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) or other organizations with a therapeutic element. “This is not a support group, though it isn’t not a support group. We are here in an undefined territory,” Paul, a veteran member, once explained to newcomers. “A good rap group” was the definition preferred by some. Most participants did not consider their meetings as a substitute for therapy, which many were, or had been, in. They sometimes complimented members who had missed therapy in order to attend the group, boosting the group’s morale.
Michael was the facilitator at most meetings he attended. In his mid-forties, he was among the group’s younger members. He was muscular, trim, casually but well dressed, projecting self-assurance. He had a good sense of humor and a pleasant demeanor. He worked in a pharmaceutical laboratory. As I soon learned, he regularly updated the group on his frequent travels abroad, trips that often engaged him in romantic adventures. One weekend trip to Paris was particularly memorable. Soon after settling into his hotel, he made his way to a nearby sauna. There he immediately noticed a good-looking young man. They retired to a private room and had “great sex.” Only then did the young man ask him if he spoke English. To their mutual surprise and fun, it turned out they were both from New York, where they were almost next-door neighbors. They had a date the same evening at a popular club. The next day Michael checked out of his hotel and spent the last night with his new mate in his luxurious company-provided residence. By the same extraordinary coincidence, they were booked on the same flight to New York, and Michael was dropped off at his doorstep by the limousine that awaited his new friend at JFK—ending a dreamlike sexual and emotional weekend affair.
That was the good part of the story. The bad news Michael had already been aware of: his weekend date was in a nearly ten-year relationship with an older man. The couple had problems and seemed on the brink of separation, but even so, his date would not let Michael call him at home and gave him only his office number. Michael told him he was available for a serious relationship and the “ball was now in his court.”
Michael, who was himself now involved with a “part time” lover in Seattle whom he had met in New York through mutual friends, cheerfully summed up his love life: “I have two part-timers: 50 percent in Seattle and [referring to his Paris partner], 25 percent in New York.” It raised laughter and sympathetic metaphors reminiscent of old melodramas such as Back Street.
One of the most committed regulars in the group observed that Michael always initiated his love affairs as a tourist or with tourists from out of town, which, he concluded, indicated self-inflicted failure. “Why is it that we meet men we desire in remote places?” and “Aren’t there nice men in New York?” were comments reiterated by a few listeners. Michael responded by quoting a friend’s conclusion that “all the nice men are married.” Others took issue: “Is it true?” “After all, all the men in our own group are single!”
Michael then related another friend’s suggestion—rejecting it resentfully—that he should not be too choosy and pick up the first reasonably suitable man he could find because it would be more and more difficult for him to meet an attractive mate. Tony, an artist in his early sixties who had recently joined the group, reacted strongly against that “defeatist idea.” He cited his own recent decision to leave his lover of two years, a very good-looking and much younger man. His friends were astonished to see him make that move, but he claimed there was no evidence that older men could not be passionately loved by younger men. Jack, a core member in his late fifties, seconded this view: his two former lovers were both ten years younger. Tony then declared: “There are thousands of men out there. Everyday we come across many new men. Why should we settle for less than we deserve?” It was mostly a matter of the way “we see ourselves,” he concluded.
A few weeks later Michael reported he was preparing for a trip to Greece. He had had a difficult week. He was torn again by the dilemma of whether to make a career change. He had decided to separate from his part-time Seattle lover and had not heard lately from the young man he met in Paris. Jack reacted with emotion. He lamented Michael’s decision to give up his Seattle lover. He had hoped, instead, that one or the other would eventually “move his ass” to New York or Seattle.
Michael’s trip to Greece ended without a new romantic encounter to report. He declared he wasn’t going to settle for half a loaf. He had given up on the man from Paris and spoke critically of those who could not go on with their lives without some sort of a mate, even if evidently unsatisfactory. He also voiced a complaint about people who come to their meetings, look around, and leave immediately or attend once and never come back because they do not find anyone they are attracted to. Picking up on the theme, Henry, a newcomer in his late forties, a divorced lawyer I had met before at the Gay Fathers Forum, argued that the men he observed in other groups were always desperately looking for Mr. Right. He thought they should instead just get together to discuss issues of shared interest. Inevitably, they would meet Mr. Right. He was out there, but one had to have the right attitude and patience. Tony, the artist, cited his own motivation for becoming a SAGE Circle regular: he found the meetings enjoyable. Considering Tony’s good looks, extrovert manner, and successful
