Day 170

I overheard two women in their 90s discussing my figure. Based on their language I’m guessing they’re retired sailors. On the plus side, I’ve finally figured out whose ‘type’ I am.

I also met Mort. He lost his wife of 50 years to cancer. He has three children, all about my age and all happily married with kids.

Mort told me the tale of his romance with his wife starting back when they met at 16. Her parents were very religious and didn’t approve of him. His parents were very practical and said they’d be happy for him if he was happy but would prefer not to have to hang out with his sanctimonious in-laws.

He talked about the pros and cons of breaks. You get to test your relationship but your partner also gets to.

After his kids moved out, his wife became significantly more religious and involved with her church, of which he was not a member. He felt left out and lonely. He threw himself into his social activities and his dog.

You don’t have to experience a coupling of mutual contempt to have the experience of laying down at night next to a back that is a wall of hospitality. Or having had the type of arguments you can only have when you have been arguing about the same things for years. Or of trying to avoid the opprobrium of breaking up by throwing yourself into other pursuits like your career.

On his own he learned that he could be as happy as he chose to be. He discovered that he preferred to be extremely chuffed.

With the acuity of hindsight, he contemplated other lives not lived and other paths not walked. The future was a quagmire with no time left for lollygagging. He plans to negotiate a lower daily rate for his dog walker and to start a new investment fund. He recommended both to me—that and watching the St. Jude’s Golf Classic.

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