BRYONY LANGTON, 57, is unhappy in her 28-year marriage . . . and tells Mel Fallowfield why she saved up to escape.
Sitting at my computer, I weigh up the pros and cons of the flats I’ve earmarked..
This isn’t idle browsing. Soon I’ll have a shortlist to view.
I’m leaving my husband Pete* only he doesn’t know yet.
I suspect when I tell him, he will say it came out of the blue — after all it’s not as if we’re at each other’s throats all the time.
He’s so caught up in his own world that he’s oblivious to my misery.
He will probably protest that we’ve got a good marriage.
He might insist that I’ve got someone else as otherwise I’d never leave.
He’s wrong. I’m leaving because I’m unhappy. And I’m not alone.
Divorces in the over-50s have doubled since 1990 and are expected to triple by 2030 and the vast majority — 66 per cent — are instigated by wives.
Women today are not willing to accept a substandard life in our later years and as we have worked hard and many earn our own money we are more financially free than previous generations.
I think he’s happy, or at least content with his lot.
Generally, everything goes his way as otherwise he sulks.
Even little things like me drinking the last of the orange juice or playing my music loudly will trigger a mood.
And I’ve lost the will to try to make him compromise — the first sign he should have picked up on is my surrendering on every issue.
I no longer care that when my friends come over he ignores them, or takes over the TV every night to watch sport, or leaves his plate beside the dishwasher, not in it.
As I no longer see years stretching out with him — I know it’s temporary so there’s no point fighting my corner.
In six months’ time I will leave. I’ve even set the date.
Our marriage started full of joy.
We met 30 years ago, when I was 27 and he was 37, in the pub.
I was being chatted up by a nutter, and he rescued me.
I thought he was The One, there was a feeling of coming home.
We moved in together after six months.
Interestingly when we got married 18 months later, my best friend refused to come because she was convinced we weren’t right for each other, she said he was too introverted and I’d end up bored.
She was right, but I couldn’t see it at the time.
He’s also deeply selfish.
In the early years I didn’t notice, we were both busy working, me in publishing and him in recruitment.
We were both selfish, pursuing our careers and going out at night together. They were happy times.
While many couples buckle under the strain of a new baby, we thrived
Bryony
When we had our daughter, Helen*, now 26, it was great.
We were besotted and loved spending time with her.
He was a great dad in the early years — she was a happy baby, barely cried and slept through.
So while many couples buckle under the strain of a new baby, we thrived.
Pete enjoyed the unconditional and unquestioning adulation she gave him when she was young.
But when she started school he didn’t want to step up and I felt alone.
He wouldn’t compromise his job by doing school runs, he never knew her term dates, he refused to take her to birthday parties and never wanted her friends to come round.
As she moved into the teen years, they argued about curfews and boyfriends.
He escaped family life on the golf course.
We started bickering and I resented him.
We ploughed on — many of my friends had similar complaints so I thought it was normal.
I wasn’t deeply unhappy, we still got on, though tellingly the laughter stopped, and we were so busy that I don’t think I realised how far apart we’d grown.
It was when Helen left home aged 18, that I felt I was married to a stranger.
I’d imagined we’d get back the closeness we had in the early years, but we were miles apart and I took stock.
I tried talking to him, I even tried going to the golf club to meet up with him after he played, so I was more involved in his life.
But he didn’t appreciate my efforts.
After a particularly stilted dinner out, I suggested we should try to find a hobby to do together.
But he shrugged it off.
On one occasion I remember him saying “We’re stuck with each other now” and feeling a sense of dread.
Counselling was dismissed out of hand.
He didn’t care that I was miserable, his life is what he’d created when I’d been running round after Helen.
His only interests are work, playing golf and watching sport on TV.
It was six years ago I thought about leaving, but financially it was impossible.
So I started making plans. I’d gone part-time when Helen was born.
Rather than going back full-time, I set up a virtual assistant business ten years ago as a sideline.
The first clue that he should have noticed that separation was on my mind was that I set it up in my maiden name and called myself Miss.
I did it after I tried to discuss the business with him and he didn’t turn down the volume on the football match he was watching.
I set up my office in the old playroom five years ago and added a sofa and TV.
Three years ago I moved into the spare bedroom.
I cited my reason as my virtual assistant business and needing to wake up early as I work over so many time zones and not wanting to disturb him.
He did think it was odd and he became a bit more solicitous for a while — and I hoped we might get back on track.
But it only lasted a couple of weeks.
We were still having occasional sex up until then, but there’s been nothing since.
I don’t fancy him or feel any connection, which I need to enjoy sex
Bryony
Now it would be unthinkable to leap into bed with him.
I don’t fancy him or feel any connection, which I need to enjoy sex.
I sometimes wonder if he’s getting it elsewhere, though there are no signs he is.
The thought of him with someone else leaves me indifferent.
I don’t like to think my sex life is over forever, but at the moment it’s not a priority.
It was at about the same time that I took off my wedding ring — saying it was too tight in the heat.
I’ve never put it back on and I never will.
He’s never mentioned it.
I no longer think of myself as part of a couple — but as a single entity.
An illustration of this happened the other day when we took Helen and her fiancé out for dinner.
I’d made the reservation and put it in my maiden name.
I’m not sure he even noticed when we arrived at the restaurant and our waiter used my maiden name to confirm our table.
And while we got into the habit of going out separately when Helen was born, we never reverted once she left.
I used to at least check with him before I made plans, but now I don’t give it a thought before I book theatre tickets or a day trip.
My business as a virtual assistant really took off about two years ago and I left my part-time job.
I’ve saved £25,000 as my runaway fund.
I’m lucky in that I have very few overheads, so it’s very profitable, meaning I can put aside 30 per cent of my income a month to pay tax and another 30 per cent for savings.
Fortunately my husband has taken no interest in my business so doesn’t question my finances.
I also got a small inheritance when my father died.
I will present it as a fait accompli. I’ll have my new flat organised with the essentials and just leave
Bryony
He’ll stay in our rented house, which he can afford.
I’ll stay nearby, as I’m hoping we can be amicable and still do things as a family when Helen visits, and my life and friends are here.
Helen’s getting married in December and then we’ll have Christmas together but early next year I’ll make the move.
I don’t want to drop a bomb and ruin those occasions.
I’ve managed to stick it out for this long.
I’ve already decided the date, January 15.
I will present it as a fait accompli.
I’ll have my new flat organised with the essentials and just leave.
He’ll have no choice but to accept it.
Will Pete be surprised?
Yes. He’s been divorced before and there were endless rows and tears in the lead up to it.
That’s the only thing he’d recognise.
I feel he dismisses me telling him I’m unhappy as just a “bad mood”.
I also think if I’d suddenly lost weight and dyed my greying hair Pete might have wondered what was going on, and thought I was having an affair.
But I’m not looking for that, eventually I might date again, but that’s not what this is about.
I want to be away from a marriage that makes me lonely and resentful.
And sad, remembering what we used to be and what we’ve become.
And I’m filled with horror about the thought of becoming Pete’s carer in the future.
As he’s ten years older than me, it’s a possibility and I don’t want that.
By leaving now he’ll know where he stands.
I don’t feel guilty.
I tried to talk to him, I suggested dates, I tried to make him go to counselling and he ignored me.
And the signs that I’m preparing to go aren’t subtle — short of leaving property details on the kitchen table I couldn’t have given him more signs.
His oblivion highlights how little about me he notices.
In my mind he’s only got himself to blame.
I worry more about how my daughter will feel.
While I think she will understand as she has witnessed how selfish my husband has been, I fear she will still be very sad and worry she will be left to look after her father.
SEX and relationships expert Rhian Kivits tells why women are driving a rise in divorce rates among mid-lifers:
If a woman has sacrificed freedom and ambition to build a home and raise children, and the man has built his life filled with work, hobbies and leisure, when the children fly the nest their marriage can feel empty and intimacy becomes a distant memory.
Women often accept being the default parent and homemaker and feel they’ve put their lives on hold, so when children are no longer their primary focus they feel compelled to seize the opportunity to chase their dreams.
Many see their fifties and sixties as a new era where they can be themselves, learn skills, start businesses, build their own social lives and reach their potential.
Things could have been different if couples had put time into relationships and continued to be partners as well as parents.
So why are women waiting until mid-life to leave?
They feel they’ve fulfilled obligations to their children and realise if they don’t make their move and start again, it could be too late and they’ll have to face misery in the next
