What happens if you’re 50 going on 30, but your partner is more excited about getting their OAP bus pass?
WORDS: BESS BROWNING. MAIN PHOTO: FUTURECONTENTHUB.COM
We all know we change as we age – and when we’re in long-term relationships, we may change in very different ways to our partners. For some, midlife unlocks exciting new windows of opportunity – there’s all that new-found freedom to travel and socialise once the children have moved out and retirement beckons. But others are quite happy to slow down, enjoy the peace and quiet, and spend more time in their slippers. So what happens if you and your partner are lured up different paths in your golden years? What if one of you is happy on the sofa with a crime novel and a cuppa, while the other wants to go bungee jumping in the Canadian Rockies? An empty nester reveals to Woman what it’s like when you want to enjoy the lifestyle you had in your 30s, while your husband wants to embrace the gentle joys of middle age.
‘I don’t intend to slow down my pace of life to match his’
Sam Cummings, 53, from Poole in Dorset, is married to Leigh, 51.
As I regaled my friends with stories about my latest holiday to Cyprus and the two-week tour of the US I had just booked, one of them asked if my husband Leigh was looking forward to it too. But Leigh wasn’t coming with me. Nor was he joining me for that evening’s dinner with friends, my weekend trip to London or my weekly quiz night. At 51, Leigh is two years younger than me, but we would both agree, while he is warmly welcoming the simpler pleasures of midlife, I am rediscovering my youth.
Since retiring from sales management last September, I’ve embraced my freedom and seized every opportunity for fun and travel – often without him, because he doesn’t want to do the same things. Leigh is still working full-time in the corporate world, and his idea of a satisfying night out is a pint in the local pub before unwinding on the sofa with our dog, Dottie, and a good documentary. Sometimes I’ll join him, but I need more social fulfilment to quench my thirst for life – just like I did in my 30s.
Perfect match
I met Leigh on Christmas Eve in 2010, at a pub in Poole in Dorset, where we live. He was tall, dark and handsome, and we got on well, but neither of us was looking for a relationship. I’d divorced 11 years earlier and relished my independence, my flourishing career and travelling the world. He had two young daughters, who were his focus, and a bu
