ABSTRACT
I watched many of my heterosexual friends disappear into their child-rearing caves during my 20s and 30s. I began to see a similar thing happen to gay and lesbian friends when I reached my 40s. I was not entirely prepared or comfortable with this state of affairs. When I learned that the Chelsea apartment above mine was to be bought by two men who had a two-year-old, I nostalgically longed for a time when living in a gay neighborhood meant not having to put up with the noise of children in the apartment above.
