I broke up with my partner of 10 years when I was 36, and realised last week that the second anniversary of our divorce had passed by without my noticing. It’s testament to what a positive and liberating experience being single in my late 30s has been, though it didn’t feel that way at first.
Break up with someone in your 20s and people say things such as ”plenty more fish in the sea” or, more helpfully, ”I never liked him anyway, let’s get drunk.”
The prevailing attitude is that you’ll be fine, someone better will come along, and until they do, let’s party. But break up with someone in your 30s or 40s and there’s a great deal of anxious gritting of teeth.
”I’m so sorry,” people kept saying, in much the same tone they use when someone’s just died.
The boozy night out with the girls to drown my sorrows involved talking about child care and decorating, rather than boys and dating, before finishing at 10pm because their babysitters needed a lift home. More to the point, I hadn’t so much as kissed a virtual stranger, let alone bared my body to them, for at least 10 years, so let’s just say I didn’t leap straight back on the dating bandwagon.
Instead, I spent time reflecting on what I wanted next, from every aspect of my life — career as well as relationships. I’ve quit my day job and am working on that book I’ve always talked about. Where, in my 20s, I moved on to new relationships without thinking about much beyond how cute he was, now I’m thinking seriously about the kind of man who makes me happy — creative, adventurous and gregarious, if you’re thinking of applying.
I’ve re-evaluated how I behave in a relationship, too, and have found that I can give the man in my life more space but share more of myself at the same time. I don’t feel threatened when he’s away and am happy to lay my heart on the line when the moment takes me. It’s less about defending the relationship and more about enjoying it.
Being older also means that, after the odd hissy argument in public places when we first split, my ex and I are still good friends. Having been together for 10 years, he understands me better than most and still celebrates my successes and consoles me if I fail. He’s discovering new passions, too. The rare occasions he cooked used to lead to a massive mess and relationship-busting stress.
Now that I’m no longer lording over his kitchen, he grows herbs on his windowsill, buys recipe books and has cooked me more meals than he ever did when we were together.
I’d never lived alone before we split up so moving into my own place was exciting and scary. It’s a cliché, but the first time I found a huge spider in the bath, the options were: call work and tell them I won’t be in because I’m waiting for pest control; ask the guy upstairs to sort it out; call my ex and explain it’s part of the divorce settlement that he sort it out; and, finally, sort it out myself. Which is what I did.
That’s not to say there haven’t been difficult times when being single feels more like EastEnders than Friends. It’s true, breaking up is hard to do. But if it happens to you and your friends get all funereal, tell them to lighten up. It might just be the start of something great — and in the meantime, let’s party. — Â