Late life relationships: A fine non-romance?
Summer, when distant friends visited, brought stories. Some were about their sentimental life, present or past.
Margot is a 67-year-old management consultant from Buenos Aires who currently lives in Paris and has been single since a divorce thirty years ago. Her romantic encounters have been, as she says, "a story of 'seduce-and-abandon'", not without her encouragement. Her attention span is tinier than her lingerie.
In 2018, during a visit to Argentina, she met a fellow Parisien, Richard, and they agreed to meet in their city. He has a high-pressure tech job, and travels continually, both for business and to relax from its demands.
In the past year, they have met three times at Richard's apartment, which she describes as a fabulous place on Canal St-Martin. He provides champagne, she brings nuts, they chat. She notices he becomes restive at about the hour and a half mark; when she leaves shortly after, it is clear that he will work into the night.
There is no affection other than the customary bises on arrival; the talk is mostly travel-oriented: where they have been, where they will go next. She said, "I am not putting any energy into this." Her tone was of light asperity, but I could not tell if she was annoyed with herself, or him.
The question I put to her, and you would too, is whether she wants anything more with Richard. She said not from him specifically, but that she misses the frisson of romance, even if it stays at the edges.
That night, I pondered her reply. A certain yearning still drove Margot. Despite drama, suffering, and a fortune spent on beauty treatments, Margot had thrived on those adventures for over a half-century.
Her desire contrasted with that of other women friends who are entirely happy with a friends-without-benefits situation. We have many earlier-life models for that: the sympatico colleague; the girlfriend's brother you'd never date but love hanging out with; the GBF.
Some would not mind if the friendship bloomed into romance, but a surprising number say they relish freedom from the sheer work involved in being someone's girlfriend. Talia, a widow, met a man who wanted a committed relationship, but when she realized she no longer had any time to herself, ended it.
In July, my neigbour Jeanne and I had lunch with her visiting friend, Corinne, whom I had not seen for a good fifteen years, during which she had divorced. Corinne had recently taken a two-week trip with a man she met while house-sitting for her son. "He was a perfect gentleman!", she said with satisfaction.
We teased her: "How much fun is that?"
She said, "Just fine with me! At this point, 'sex' refers only to gender." After the trip was over, she would not see him again because, as she put it, "he was so conservative and boring."
Margot says she is content on her own—but I always say, watch what someone does, not what she says. For each apèro, she makes sure her hair is perfect. Margot says a new agnès b. dress is much more fun when there's an occasion to wear it.
Then she reverses herself and says, "I should stop wasting my time."
Margot is a 67-year-old management consultant from Buenos Aires who currently lives in Paris and has been single since a divorce thirty years ago. Her romantic encounters have been, as she says, "a story of 'seduce-and-abandon'", not without her encouragement. Her attention span is tinier than her lingerie.
In 2018, during a visit to Argentina, she met a fellow Parisien, Richard, and they agreed to meet in their city. He has a high-pressure tech job, and travels continually, both for business and to relax from its demands.
In the past year, they have met three times at Richard's apartment, which she describes as a fabulous place on Canal St-Martin. He provides champagne, she brings nuts, they chat. She notices he becomes restive at about the hour and a half mark; when she leaves shortly after, it is clear that he will work into the night.
There is no affection other than the customary bises on arrival; the talk is mostly travel-oriented: where they have been, where they will go next. She said, "I am not putting any energy into this." Her tone was of light asperity, but I could not tell if she was annoyed with herself, or him.
The question I put to her, and you would too, is whether she wants anything more with Richard. She said not from him specifically, but that she misses the frisson of romance, even if it stays at the edges.
That night, I pondered her reply. A certain yearning still drove Margot. Despite drama, suffering, and a fortune spent on beauty treatments, Margot had thrived on those adventures for over a half-century.
Her desire contrasted with that of other women friends who are entirely happy with a friends-without-benefits situation. We have many earlier-life models for that: the sympatico colleague; the girlfriend's brother you'd never date but love hanging out with; the GBF.
Some would not mind if the friendship bloomed into romance, but a surprising number say they relish freedom from the sheer work involved in being someone's girlfriend. Talia, a widow, met a man who wanted a committed relationship, but when she realized she no longer had any time to herself, ended it.
In July, my neigbour Jeanne and I had lunch with her visiting friend, Corinne, whom I had not seen for a good fifteen years, during which she had divorced. Corinne had recently taken a two-week trip with a man she met while house-sitting for her son. "He was a perfect gentleman!", she said with satisfaction.
We teased her: "How much fun is that?"
She said, "Just fine with me! At this point, 'sex' refers only to gender." After the trip was over, she would not see him again because, as she put it, "he was so conservative and boring."
Margot says she is content on her own—but I always say, watch what someone does, not what she says. For each apèro, she makes sure her hair is perfect. Margot says a new agnès b. dress is much more fun when there's an occasion to wear it.
Then she reverses herself and says, "I should stop wasting my time."
Comments
As always, you manage to find the most thought provoking 'stuff' to write about.
I related to this comment; I did the same (jazz dance) when in my 30s, newly divorced and lonely. Those evening classes kept me out of the bar scene. I made friends, got strong, and could murder a piece of cake the size of my head without worrying about it.
They recently discussed the possibility of moving in together, perhaps buying somewhere jointly, but my friend says she found herself having second thoughts when her beau mentioned that he was "looking forward to living in a well-run home again".
This brought it home to my friend that her educated, erudite, charming and amusing boyfriend had somehow retained, seemingly in his DNA, the notion that the woman has sole responsibility for running the home. She has decided to keep the relationship on a two-house footing...
Jane
I was interested in the comment of Jane in London. I have been married for many years and am quite sure my husband would say our house was well-run. However my husband does all the shopping and cooking and it's a division that suits us well. It obviously does not mean that he thinks I have sole responsibility for running the house. This is not something men generally do well, some manage some better than others but there is a lot of truth in the old saying "it takes a woman to make a home". If I was in my 60s and found someone who was educated, erudite, charming and amusing, I'd be finding a way to make this work if I wanted a more engaged relationship.
I wrote a post awhile back about a good friend who, after being widowed several years, reconnected with her first husband from a brief marriage when in their early 20s. Things looked great, so he sold his home and moved in with her, and big problems ensued. They had both become used to different ways of living in nearly 50 intervening years. Now, he has returned to his home community. She spends time with him there, though they are separated by a long flight, not by an hour's drive. Occasionally they travel together. It's a love story but not a cohabitation story.
Venasque: Are you thinking what I am? Hire a housekeeper. But even with that, she might still be expected to cook, unless the 'house' is Downton Abbey.
Re the first husband - my thought would be if it didn't work the first time, why would it 50 years later when the person you were is still there but matured. But that's just me, other's mileage may vary.