I live in a 55+ community, and love it. Love my house, love my neighbors, love all the great benefits a neighborhood like ours offers. And I love my boyfriend—or as I call him, my true love, Jack. He lives in another town, 45 miles north. Lucky for me, he makes the trip down here most weekends and we enjoy our time together very much.
Many of the residents here know him, but not all know that he doesn’t live here. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when I attended a midweek gathering and someone asked, “Where’s Jack?” I explained he is here on weekends and would be at the next gathering on Saturday.
The woman who had asked was sitting at a table with her husband and a few other people. She nodded at my answer. Then her face exhibited a progression of emotions as she thought about what I’d just said. Finally, with a dreamy look on her face, she asked, “You mean you have five days each week all to yourself?”
The other women at the table uttered soft moans and hmmmm’s as they, too, considered this idea of partnership. The men’s foreheads wrinkled, a few eyebrows raised, and their smiles turned downward. “Whadda ya mean?” said one of them. “Hmph!” said another. And quickly, the subject was changed and the community chatter went on as usual.
Jack and I don’t have a marriage certificate, nor kids together, but we’re as much a couple as any other duo I know. He’s my family, an important part of my life the past 13 years, and is named in my will equally to my siblings. But neither of us are keen on living together, unless, as we’ve often daydreamed, we could build a log cabin duplex in the woods. With a passage door between the two units. With a light over the transom that could switch from green to red whenever one of us needed our space.
Recently, one of the more hip members of our community remarked, “Oh, you’re like Gwyneth Paltrow.”
“Huh?” I responded. I mean, look at Gwyneth, look at me. No resemblance in any way, especially shape or form, unfortunately. And listen to Gwyneth, listen to me. I hope to hell I have more common sense than that broad. Just look up Gwyneth and Goop if you don’t know what I’m talking about.
“No,” my friend continued. “You’re both into LAT.”
Oh god, I thought, is this another weird sex/health thing the celebrities are doing, like Gwyneth’s jade egg or vaginal scented candle?
“You know. You and Jack.”
I was about to tell my friend she was getting way too personal here, but she finally explained.
“LAT stands for Living Apart Together. It’s the new trend. Gwyneth and her husband are married, but they live in separate homes.”
“Oh, that! Okay, sure.” I was relieved. “I didn’t know that was a trend.”
Well, apparently it is. People in lasting partnerships, married or not, who choose for whatever reasons to maintain separate living spaces. Some do it for financial reasons, some because their work makes it practical, or some because they feel that not being together constantly strengthens their bond. Maybe they just like to have a good amount of individual space.
I think it takes a certain level of maturity, self-awareness and trust to make Living Apart Together work. When I was young, I would never have been able to handle it. That trust thing is a big deal. Maybe we’re just old enough now that we don’t have energy to be on the lookout for alternative partners. Or maybe we’ve both had it up to here with untrustworthy partners and know a great thing when we have it.
When Jack and I met, we each had our own home, each fully furnished and outfitted to accommodate our single lifestyles. We both knew how to be happy alone. Plus, he’s still working and his business is based where he lives. When I retired, I scouted around and figured out just how far south I could go before he would have second thoughts about coming to visit. I think I hit our sweet spot with Ovation at Oak Tree. At least for now.
And hey, who knew we were being trendy? Might be the first time ever for either of us.
Left To Write 
Individuals, together
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