After six years of marriage, Jerry Hall and Rupert Murdoch are reportedly set to divorce. At least there are plenty of houses for everyone and the kids are old enough to take it. In fact, the only question that comes to mind is “would you really mind?”
It always amazes me when women my age get divorced, especially those whose marriages seemed perfectly normal. Those couples who play badminton together and hold onto the bottom of the ladder, so the other doesn’t fall for 30 years, who suddenly announce that they’ve hated each other to death for decades and now the kids have left home, they we are free to never see each other’s stupid face again.
Cautionary note to parents here, kids are much older by the time they’re financially able to leave home these days, so you may have to endure another decade or so of mutual hatred before you’re free. .
Meanwhile, those of us who are still with the partners we hooked up with in the ’80s are left reeling, “are we lazy or something?”
I’m not sure what people expect from marriage after 60, I’m 62, my partner is 73 and I just remembered that yesterday was the anniversary of our first meeting 40 years ago. I “celebrated” by getting a big wisdom tooth pulled and he “celebrated” by picking me up from the dentist and making me some scrambled eggs once my mouth stopped bleeding, so there’s romance for you.
Afterlife partnerships aren’t about being blissfully happy, they’re about being content. Nobody is happily happy, there is always something a little wrong (his knee, my teeth, the ant infestation on the top floor), but the fact is that I have my port in a storm and, anyway, I like having someone Who to blame. when things go wrong. Has the lightbulb gone? bloody geof etc.
I have no idea what went wrong between them but Jerry is 65 and Rupert is 91 and with all the best will in the world, 91 is pretty old and no matter how posh your surroundings, having to watch TV with a nonagenarian is a hard work.
I also, from time to time, worry about the age difference between me and my partner. When I met G, he was a thirty-something graphic designer with a Porsche and a fist full of lunch vouchers, now he’s a silver-haired septuagenarian with a long-handled shoehorn.
Mind you, he could make similar remarks about me when we first met. He weighed less than eight stones and considering that I never ate anything made for a very cheap date. Wow, how things change, these days I’m so chubby that I often wear a long panty to avoid thigh chafing.
That Jerry is still beautiful and Rupert is still rich is undeniable, things are different for the rich and the beautiful. Being rich must mean divorce is a lot less stressful. For the rest of us, divorce is like emptying out the garage, but on a really massive scale, and how many of us are bothered by that? The old man and I took five years to redecorate our daughter’s bedroom, after she left home, she is now 33 and there is still a box of Polly’s pockets in there.
Having someone to sort out all the junk for you and space to build a fire and burn anything you don’t want should make the whole process a lot easier. Just lunch in town and some papers to sign basically, I picture Jerry doing this in a fabulous hat.
We work together on vagina monologues in the West End, I remember her fondly, she was so funny and her legs were so long she had to hold the dressing room door open when she lay on the floor.
I was in awe of Mrs. Hall, I had never seen anyone literally slide onstage before, and to be honest, when I imagine her leaving this marriage, I imagine her “sliding” in exactly the same way, with her shoulders back, the Golden hair. vibe.
Good luck to her, I really liked her, and I hope that in the future she will find true