On September 24, 2026, a piece titled “Living an unabashedly queer life can afford us fun and freedom, but leaves many of us feeling untethered as we approach middle-age” appeared, promising a 13 min read. The author, JJ Croucher, uses his own experience to explore what has come to be called the gay midlife crisis. While celebrating the liberty that queer identity can bring, he also admits that the same freedom can feel like a loose rope when the inevitable midlife turning point arrives.
For many gay men, the exuberance of youth—late-night club runs, spontaneous love affairs, and the occasional binge of red wine—gradually yields to a quieter, more questioning phase. The article suggests that the phrase “choose wisely” should evolve from a cautionary note into a daily mantra, especially when the stakes feel higher and the party lights begin to dim.
Jung’s afternoon of life and the queer midlife turning point
Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung famously observed that middle age is “thoroughly unprepared, we take the step into the afternoon of life.” He warned that the habits that sustain us in the morning may not survive the evening, likening the shift to trying to eat cereal for dinner. This metaphor resonates with queer readers who have built their identities around nightlife, activism, and constant reinvention, only to find those routines suddenly feel out of place as they move toward the so-called “afternoon” of their lives.
Jung’s insight provides a psychological framework for understanding why the gay midlife slump can feel so abrupt. The external world may still applaud youthful flamboyance, yet internally the individual senses a loss of direction, a feeling that the previous script no longer fits. The article positions this paradox as a catalyst for the need to choose wisely—to reassess values, relationships, and the very definition of a “good gay life.”
From a quarter-life breakdown to the prescribed “good gay life”
At the heart of Croucher’s narrative is a vivid memory from his twenties. He recalls sitting at a kitchen table with his mum, tears already streaming, while the “waterworks” had begun. As a “strung-out PhD student” in his mid-twenties, he was caught in a quarter-life meltdown, unable to pinpoint who he was or where he was headed. The academic chapter was closing, and the future beyond it seemed like a void.
He paints a picture of a week that swung like a yo-yo: highs included hosting club nights and attending black-tie events drenched in red wine; lows involved a forbidden romance with a flatmate, an overgrown buzzcut, and the sudden resurfacing of teenage trauma thought to be compartmentalised. The imagined future—marriage to a “well-heeled husband,” a glittering career, and “a double pram filled with a pair of cherubic surrogate twins”—did not feel like a personal desire but rather a symbol of the socially constructed “good gay life.” He describes this as becoming “supremely conventional” and risking a psychological “lobotomisation” into homonormative comfort, where the questions “What if?” and “What next?” disappear.
Choosing wisely: facing the fear of a lonely fifty
The turning point arrives when Croucher’s mother asks what he fears. Though he is still in his twenties with “decades until midlife,” he feels the party must end. He confesses, between sobs, “I don’t want to be one of those men that gets to fifty and kills themself.” His mother, bewildered, replies, “Why would you do that?” The answer, he admits, is that it simply feels like something a gay man might contemplate when faced with an uncharted afternoon.
This raw admission underscores the urgency behind the article’s call to choose wisely. It is not merely a catchy slogan but a plea for gay individuals to confront the internalized expectations that can lead to despair. By sharing his own vulnerability, Croucher invites readers to examine whether they are chasing a socially approved script or forging an authentic path that aligns with their evolving needs.
In the final analysis, the piece suggests that acknowledging the “afternoon of life”—as Jung described—and confronting the fear of a solitary fifty can transform a crisis into an opportunity. The mantra “choose wisely” becomes a tool for redefining success, intimacy, and purpose beyond the binary of party night versus domestic routine. For queer individuals navigating this delicate phase, the message is clear: the next chapter does not have to be a repeat of the past; it can be a consciously chosen, uniquely satisfying evolution.
