‘He’d rather walk around a golf course than Machu Picchu!’ ‘I noticed a shift in our behaviour’
Sam Cummings, 53, from Poole in Dorset, is married to Leigh, 51.
As I regaled my friends with stories about my latest holiday to Cyprus and the two-week tour of the US I had just booked, one of them asked if my husband Leigh was looking forward to it too. But Leigh wasn’t coming with me. Nor was he joining me for that evening’s dinner with friends, my weekend trip to London or my weekly quiz night.
At 51, Leigh is two years younger than me, but we would both agree, while he is warmly welcoming the simpler pleasures of midlife, I am rediscovering my youth. Since retiring from sales management in September, I’ve embraced my freedom and seized every opportunity for fun and travel – often without him, because he doesn’t want to do the same things.
Leigh is still working full-time in the corporate world, and his idea of a satisfying night out is a pint in the local pub before unwinding on the sofa with our dog Dottie and a good documentary. Sometimes I’ll join him, but I need more social fulfilment to quench my thirst for life – just like I did in my 30s.
I met Leigh on Christmas Eve in 2010, at a pub in Poole in Dorset, where we live. He was tall, dark and handsome, and we got on well, but neither of us was looking for a relationship. I’d divorced 11 years earlier and relished my independence, my flourishing career and travelling the world. He had two young daughters, who were his focus, and a busy career too. In other words, we were both happy being single.
But that didn’t mean we didn’t click
– in fact, it took a whole year of joyous dates before we finally gave in to the undeniable connection between us. We were well and truly in love.
We married in 2015. His daughters had become a big part of my life; I loved taking on the stepmother role. We both led very busy lives, working endless hours and spending our evenings with the girls, with friends or working late. But when
COVID-19 struck in March 2020 and we were forced into repeated lockdowns, it gave us a chance to reflect on how hectic our lifestyles had become.
We were a stronger partnership than ever, but as we emerged from the pandemic, I noticed a shift in our behaviour and in our relationship. While I happily returned to my overflowing social calendar, Leigh preferred to stay at home.
The girls were becoming more independent and spent more time away, so I perceived our newly empty nest as a chance to embrace fresh opportunities and reignite old interests. I had started Crossfit, plus going to a weekly quiz, and I would visit friends regularly in London.
Meanwhile, Leigh’s friendship group was a small, close-knit circle, and his pleasure stemmed from those little joys in life. He’d play a round of golf and then happily return home to an empty house while I was out for drinks. We laughed that he would much rather walk around a golf course than Machu Picchu!
When I retired, my world opened up even more. From the moment I told Leigh about my travels, he encouraged me. He listened intently as I described my plans to explore South America and India, roughing it in hostels just as I had done 20 years earlier. We recognised we didn‘t need to do everything together. It means the time we do spend as a couple is special.
Yes, it may seem as though Leigh is ageing faster than me, but I am not intending to slow down my pace of life to match his. I’m training to be a Crossfit coach, I have several solo trips planned and I have realised my dream of becoming a home-based travel agent through The Travel Franchise (facebook.com/samcumtravel).
Leigh has another seven years before he plans to retire, and maybe then our lifestyles will consolidate once more, but for now, we are both content with the way things are. I’ve always liked the analogy of holding a butterfly – if you hold it too tight, it’ll crush. Hold it loosely, and it’ll have the freedom to fly but it will always come back.