Could-be French Prez’s wife is 25 years senior. And we love it!

Why is this even a topic of conversation? They look perfectly happy together — why not get on with our lives and can the gossip

The most delicious nugget of information I’ve devoured in the ongoing unfurling of what is virally becoming The Greatest Love Story of our times — could-be (or would-be) French President Emmanuel Macron and his elegant wife Brigitte’s — is that Brigitte’s chocolatier family now (reportedly) specialises in macarons. And, of course, the most

inspiring part of the story is that it is, in fact, a story of love.

There is — as virtually anyone who’s in touch with trending news is aware of — a 25-year age difference between the two of them: she’s 64, he’s 39. As part of the guerrilla-strike of the media suddenly scoping out this age scoop, a British tabloid referred to her as “gran,” but I’m sure she’s gamely dismissed it already. With French flair. C’est la vie.

When Emmanuel won the first round of the presidential election, in his ‘thank you’ speech, he saved the best for last. He turned to his wife and qualified her thus: “[she’s] always there, and what’s more, without whom I wouldn’t be me… If I’m elected — no, sorry, when we are elected — she will be there, with a role and a place.”

It’s particularly telling that all this is happening at a time when, across the pond, a very different sort of dynamic is playing out. I’m so tired of posts and re-posts (and tweets and retweets) of Donald Trump giving Melania the cold shoulder whenever he gets a chance (and he seems to be getting plenty).

Someone pointed out that there’s a similar age difference between POTUS and FLOTUS: he’s 70, she’s 46. Weirdly enough, their 24-year difference wasn’t much of a talking point — probably because he’s a man, and it’s expected he’ll be the older one.

It’s only a problem when women marry younger men. I don’t know why. There’s no stricture anywhere in the world that actually stipulates: “A man shall not marry a woman older than himself.”

I was meeting a friend for dinner, so thought I’d dig into this

l’affaire with her (though she has no interest in the French elections whatsoever and, till that evening, didn’t even know the names of the lead poll players).

A little scream of disbelief emanated from her when I told her about Emmanuel and Brigitte’s quarter-century age difference. “So this woman, Brigitte — does she look like Brigitte Bardot in And

God Created Woman? — married an old man? She must be a golddigger — like Melania.”

I had to tell her, gently, that Brigitte is the older one. “WHAT?” she now screamed. “Why on earth is a hot, young-ish [potential] French President married to a woman his mother’s age? Men should never marry women older than them — I mean a couple of years here and there is okay, I guess, but this is just wrong!”

“Why is it wrong?” I was also screaming now.

“Because the only way we can keep a man in check is by being young and pretty — or, at least,

looking young and pretty!! Why do you think I do yoga every day? And why do you think I’m having a kale salad?”

I had to tell her the story of something that happened in my family. Many decades ago, one of my aunts had gotten hitched to a man eight years her junior. It was for the first time in God knows how many generations that such an “unseemly” match had transpired — the man being younger than the woman (the man was also of a different nationality, but that was like peanuts compared to the age bomb). As a kid, I remember all conversations about them beginning with: “You do know she’s eight years older than him, right?” As I grew older, and their love grew stronger (he would insist on accompanying her on girlie trips to the women’s section at departmental stores, saying he’d miss her too much if she didn’t “allow” him to tag along), their ‘love story’ remained with me as being very real.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” said my friend, attacking her antioxidant dose on the table, “but these are exceptions.”

“Well, exceptions prove the rule,” I countered.

I remembered reading, when Emmanuel married Brigitte (he was 30, she was 55), he told her, “We’re going to shut people up.”

So, picking up a cue, I concluded, “And now, I think I’m just going to ask you to shut up.”