A question I have posed time and again since my personal discovery of the Silverfox Syndrome, which is my term for the love of the older man by members of his own sex (either younger or peer), is how are these connections made? For seventeen years I went sexually unloved, having not once met a man of any age who expressed a desire for a relationship on that level with me. Yet when I stumbled upon it at the age of 63, I found myself in great demand. So I said to myself, "What the hell? How do these guys find each other?" In all my wide experience I had never heard of a "wrinkles" bar, i.e. a drinking establishment catering to silverfoxes and their admirers, the most famous of which are the City of Quebec in London and Chardees in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, USA. Although I am a teetotaler, I well knew that 99.9 percent of gay bars worldwide are bastions of the young-for-young gay culture.

There recently appeared on John Kilpatrick's Silverfox E-Mail List a letter from a young man in Germany who enjoys a permanent relationship with a fellow countryman, a distinguished silverfox. His letter, however, dealt with his first love. Given its setting at a spa in Germany, it took me back to a day when I sat at an outdoor cafe in Baden Baden sipping good coffee and snacking on Rumpelmeyer's famous chocolates while admiring the gorgeous German men strolling by, who, unfortunately, left me quite alone.

Walther Roeber has given me permission to reproduce his sweetly reminiscent letter here. How do young admirers find their silverfoxes? Oh, Walther, in my long hiatus, why did I never encounter a foxy kit like you?

"I Still Dream....." A Letter by Walther Roeber

I was just 21 years old and had started to study economics at the university. On weekends, I was a commuter between the university city and my hometown, which is a spa for heart disease and also for asthma. On a Saturday afternoon after studying, I needed some fresh air and took a walk through our beautiful park. On the way back home I passed a coffeehouse and felt a strong appetite for coffee and pastry. Of course, on a Saturday afternoon it was very crowded with spa guests and visitors; the place was not far from the railway station, too. There was no table vacant. (In Germany you usually seat yourself rather than being seated by a host, as in America).

I looked around and spotted a free seat at a table for two. The second place was occupied by a man. (It is also customary in Germany to seat oneself, with permission, at a table occupied by others, which is less common in America than it used to be.) I could see only his broad shoulders and the back of his head with its long grey hair. I walked over to him and asked if the second seat were free. I became excited when I saw his bright blue eyes.

"Until this very moment!" was his answer, and he gave me a smile that made me blush.

I sat down, ordered my coffee and pastry and looked carefully at the face of my table companion. The stunning blue eyes dominated a fleshy face. According to the fashion of the times (1970), he had long side whiskers and wore a shirt which was a bit tight around his chest and stomach. As the table had a glass top, I could see that his trousers were filled nicely. He had very strong legs and showed a big bulge in his crotch. The shirt was open, and I could see that grey hair also covered the chest. He was not wearing an undershirt, so his big nipples pointed through the fabric. The buttons had to work overtime to hold his shirt together against a well rounded belly.

When my coffee and pastry were served, we sipped at our coffee almost simultaneously. I noticed he had big hands with one ring on each, a small diamond on the left and a huge reddish-brown gemstone on the right. He saw my puzzled look and told me that it was a carnelian which he got as a gift 50 years before. I had a little knowledge about gems and jewelry, which led us into a nice conversation. After that topic, he asked me how a young man like me came to the coffeehouse and chose a seat next to an old man of 67. He smiled.

I blushed again, but he did not pursue this and began to tell me instead that he was visiting 'an old friend' who stayed at a home for elderly people with asthma. He traveled by train from Frankfurt once or twice a week. I told him about my studies and my expectations. Time went by.....

Suddenly, he said he was going to miss his train, waved to the waitress and paid both our checks despite my weak protest. I asked him if I could accompany him to the railway station.

"Of course", he said and gave me his card. "Please call me. It was such a nice conversation. We should continue!"

[ part 1 | Part 2 ]