The golden years aren't what they used to be. Especially if you're gay.

A generation of gay and lesbian boomers who've spent decades living and loving in the open are looking to age among others like them.

"When we ask – 'Who do we want to surround ourselves with when we retire?' – it is like-minded people," said Tina Reynolds, a 60-year-old lesbian who owns a Sacramento marketing and multimedia firm. "We have to take care of each other."

Around the country, at least a dozen gay-oriented retirement communities have opened or are on the drawing board, offering affordable urban living in Los Angeles, Boston and sprawling, market-rate desert resorts, complete with cabarets and concierge services. Some, like the planned "openhouse" project in San Francisco, eventually will offer services for those who no longer can care for themselves.

The Sacramento region's first licensed assisted-care facility for gays and lesbians opened recently and can accommodate six.

No active retirement community is slated for the region – yet.

Over a beer at Head Hunters restaurant, Reynolds offered her vision of what will happen in Sacramento: a small cluster of condos near gay-oriented restaurants and night spots in midtown. Kind of how she lives now.

"I hear enough talk about this in my circle," Reynolds said.

The idea of community is paramount for sexual minorities who have no children or are estranged from their families, she said: "We really choose our family."

Because the U.S. census does not specifically ask sexual preferences, researchers rely on estimates of sexual minorities based on same-sex households.

Of 108,000 California same-sex couples, 16 percent of people in those couples are 55 or older, according to the latest census.

By one researcher's count, an estimated 1.3 million of California adults are gay, lesbian or bisexual, though more than half of those are bisexual. Nationally, 4 percent of adults identify themselves as gay or lesbian.

Even though groundbreaking legislation after the 1969 Stonewall Inn protests against police harassment in New York City paved the way for integrated living, sexual minorities seem eager for more retirement and nursing-care options catering to them, researchers say.

"The headline is that nobody wants to go back into the closet when they get old," said Douglas Kimmel, a Maine psychologist who has written on lesbian, gay, transgender and bisexual aging.

That's not to say everyone will solely seek exclusively gay and lesbian retirement or nursing-home options, he said.

"Everybody ages in a unique way. We need a variety of options," he said.

Legal rights and other human rights issues must also be emphasized for health care workers dealing with an aging, diverse population, Kimmel said. That will mean greater service training, such as the kind the state of Maine is conducting for all hospice-care workers, he said.

On a secluded hilltop in Fair Oaks, Tisa Cadway has turned her sprawling ranch home into a bed-and-breakfast-style retreat, where only an intercom in the antique-appointed bedrooms hints at the extra care offered.

Camellia Assisted Living opened in October and Cadway hopes to have a client in May.

Cadway, 34, has cared for people all her life. Her mother, Ruth Cadway, 60, is a lesbian, which inspired Tisa Cadway to launch a unique service.

"It would just be nice to go somewhere where they're not afraid of you – you're family," said Tisa Cadway.

Ruth Cadway, who can chase after her 1-year-old grandson in the house, said she's lived openly and comfortably. But she and her friends feel the need for what her daughter is doing.

"It's nice to have a loving, warm place without prejudice," she said.

A generation ago, no states had laws protecting sexual minorities, said Gregory Herek, a psychology professor at the University of California, Davis, who has researched sexual minority issues for 25 years.

Many, including California, do today. But it's no guarantee, he said.

"It's not as though prejudice and discrimination have gone away. There will be places where an older gay or lesbian will face discrimination," he said.

Aging gays and lesbians encounter other disadvantages, such as no inherited Social Security for couples, and compounded legal expenses to ensure inheritance and other status issues, Herek said.

Even with disparities in the states' protections, when it comes to retirement, gays and lesbians seem to mirror the general population by clustering in Florida, the arid climes of Arizona and Nevada, and the Oregon coast, said Gary Gates, a senior research fellow at the Williams Institute at UCLA.

The institute conducts public policy research on sexual orientation and advocates for more federal data collecting, such as the U.S. census.

Gates has gotten at least a half-dozen calls in the past year inquiring about the market for gay and lesbian retirement developments, he said.

Still, gauging the demand is not precise enough to draw big investment dollars, he said. It's unclear which services, from active living to nursing homes, will draw the most appeal, he said.

Peter Lundberg has been trying for 12 years to attract entrepreneurs for a market-rate development in Northern California. Lundberg, who is active in San Francisco's gay community, has researched, surveyed and honed the concept into a science. But one with no takers yet.

Not enough deep-pocket investors see beyond a niche market, Lundberg said. He's convinced it's not niche, but quite particular. "We want to sit out on the walkways and street with other people. That isolating, suburban model is not set up to provide the social services and the community interaction that we need," he said. "You can't have a developer say, 'I'll just slap a rainbow flag on it.' It doesn't fly."

At Head Hunters, Reynolds finished her beer as an evening crowd began drifting in. She said she feels vital enough to crank out another 15 years at work.

But it's not too early for a wish list.

"It's like everyone else," she said. "You want to have the same culture and lifestyle so you can go on the way you always have."