The one ingredient nobody wants at their dinner party? A divorced woman!
So says this writer who became a social pariah when her marriage ended... until she found a new partner
ARE you and Jamie free next Saturday for dinner? Do hope that you can both come. Fancy that! An invitation to an actual dinner party. It was so long since I received one of those they were probably serving Black Forest gateau and Mateus rosé.
So, what heinous crime had I committed to get myself struck off the dinner party circuit? Too drunk? Too loud? Too awkwardly vegan? No — I’d got divorced.
It’s not that my friends dropped me completely when I split with my husband. Many were hugely supportive. However, in my new role as a single woman I found myself relegated to lunches, ‘kitchen suppers’ when partners were away, or ‘girls’ nights out’.
The dinner party invitations, however, dried up. At first, it was hardly the biggest problem I had to face. Like most divorcees, I spent time grieving the loss of my relationship, then picked myself up and cracked on with life.
I’d almost forgotten the world of ‘cosy couples’ dinner parties’ until that recent invitation plopped into my inbox. The reason for its arrival? I’d found a new romantic partner which, apparently, deemed me socially desirable once more.
Was I thrilled to be asked? Was I hell! I was seething with rage and indignation. While it was a slap in the face to be excluded in the first place, to be blithely welcomed back into the fold just because I’d finally managed to hook myself a man was doubly insulting. Was I not acceptable without a man?
My experience has been quite an eye-opener into how we, as a society, view divorced women.
Firstly, there’s the ‘predator’ stereotype. When I was married I used to meet regularly for coffee with a platonic male friend. I never thought about it at the time, but his partner evidently considered me ‘safe’ by virtue of my wedding ring. She put a stop to our lattes pretty sharpish once I was single.
THIS felt unjust. I was still the same person — divorce does not involve the surgical removal of morals. It was also illogical, as I hadn’t fancied her tubby hubby when I was married, and my divorce had zero effect on his physical attractiveness.
Even children’s playdates can attract suspicion. My friend Flora, a single mum of one, had been close to a couple from her son’s primary school. She’d often gone to their house, sometimes with the mother but more often with the stay-athome dad.
This was fine when she was married, but she was persona non grata once single. ‘The mum arrived home from work one day and I knew from the look on her face I shouldn’t have been there, with her husband and children.
‘There’d never been anything of a sexual nature between us, it was just so much less lonely than coming home alone with my child and having scrambled eggs in front of Blue Peter. We were good friends but I don’t see either any more.’
Looking back, I have to admit I was guilty of such behaviour myself. Would I have wanted my husband hanging out with an attractive single mum while I was at work? Would anyone?
‘The relationship dynamic you have with other couples has to be renegotiated when you split up,’ explains psychotherapist Alan Reich, who specialises in relationship problems. ‘A woman could feel threatened, fearing her husband might run off with you. It brings up insecurity which could be nothing to do with you and everything to do with them.’
But there are other reasons why divorced women can find themselves left out of social events. As Alan points out, when someone is going through a high conflict divorce ‘they have a tendency to rant and rave and dump all this bile about their ex on their friends. Who’d want to invite that person to a dinner party?’
Then there’s the fear factor. As a recent divorcee, I felt like an unwelcome reminder that marriage doesn’t always have a Disney ending. ‘It’s almost like you’ve got bad breath,’ says Flora. ‘People wince when they see you and cross the road to avoid you.’
‘A relationship breakdown sends fear ripples through a group,’ Alan confirms. ‘The other couples think, “Oh dear, we’ve had a lot of rows lately, maybe we’ll get divorced too.”
On the other side of the coin, they might envy your freedom. While they are bickering over the washing up, you are free to travel or date someone new and exciting. You represent their fantasy of freedom. In other words, a divorce can be unsettling for the former couple’s friends, so they unconsciously stick together, excluding those who don’t mirror their situation.
My husband and I were the first of our peer group to split up. We were all similar types — young(ish) couples who thought we had it all. We’d found love, bought homes, had kids and careers to juggle. All the boxes were ticked and we thought we’d live happily ever after. Smug? Maybe a little.
When our marriage disintegrated I sensed a subconscious shudder of fear from some friends that theirs could also founder.
Not such a paranoid fear, as it happens. Research shows divorce can be as contagious as disease. When a couple split up it ‘normalises’ divorce for the rest of their social group.
The marital breakdown of a friend increases your own chance of divorce by 75% — what’s known as ‘divorce clustering’.
I married my husband, Tom, in 1994. We had a son and many happy years together, but sadly the relationship broke down and we finally divorced in 2007.
FOR two years I had the blank stare of the walking wounded. I was definitely guilty of ranting and raving, but my close friends stuck by me. Gradually I built a new life and found a new kind of happiness. I learned a lot, too.
The true value of friendship, for one thing. I’d let friendships slide when I was married and I’m a more thoughtful friend today than I ever was before.
I also learned not to fear being alone. We all know people who soldier on in long-dead relationships because they are frightened to leave. I was one of them — the dying days of my marriage were drawn out and bleak.
I stayed for the sake of our son but also, if I’m honest, because I was terrified of loneliness. Being alone holds no terror for me now.
Then, in 2014, I bumped into my partner, Jamie, when we were walking our dogs in the park. All I can say is, so far so good.
Relationships seem easier in later life, as we have none of the stresses of a typical young couple. There’s no resentment over who’s doing the most childcare as we juggle two full-time careers. We just have fun together.
So DID we accept the dinner party invitation? We did — although I was biting back my resentment — and we had a splendid time. They are lovely people and the poor dears had no idea that their innocent invitation had reignited my dormant fury over past slights.
It’s almost 20 years since I was part of that young and slightly self-satisfied cosy couples’ scene. Life has taken its toll on all of us. Nowadays we tend to think ‘there but for the grace of God. . .’
And when I host dinner parties now — everyone’s welcome.