New Australian research from dating platform eharmony has revealed that 83 per cent of singles with children would consider, or are open to, maintaining separate households even when in a long-term relationship.
I can understand the appeal. Particularly for those who have experienced divorce, the prospect of combining households, negotiating parenting arrangements and potentially enduring another relationship breakdown is hardly enticing.
By our 40s and 50s, many of us have established lives we’re rather fond of. We have homes, careers, friendships, routines and, for those with children, complicated schedules organised around school, sport and shared parenting arrangements.
After a separation, there can be enormous satisfaction in regaining control over your own life. Nobody to argue with about money, the room temperature setting, or whose turn it is to empty the dishwasher.
Maintaining Separate Households
In a long-term relationship
Of course, all that independence becomes a little more complicated when you meet someone you actually like.
Dating in middle age is a curious business. You would think we’d be better at it by now. We have experience, a clearer understanding of ourselves and hopefully some wisdom acquired from relationships that didn’t work out.
We’re also considerably less inclined to put up with nonsense.
Modern relationship advice encourages this — know your worth, establish boundaries and never settle.
All perfectly reasonable principles, particularly for those emerging from unhappy or damaging relationships. But I suspect our enthusiasm for independence says something rather less flattering about what we’ve come to expect from relationships.
We’ve become very good at telling people what we won’t put up with. I’m not sure we’ve given quite as much thought to what we might need to put up with ourselves.
We want a partner who respects our independence, accommodates our children, accepts our routines and understands our emotional baggage. Preferably without expecting too much in return.
At what point does healthy independence become plain old selfishness?
I’ve noticed an odd contradiction in the way people talk about dating in middle age.
They want a committed relationship, but they’re reluctant to give up a single evening of their established weekly routine. They want someone emotionally available, but regard a request to spend more time together as being needy. They expect a new partner to embrace their children, while showing considerably less enthusiasm for accommodating someone else’s.
Of course, relationships involve inconvenience. Even very good ones. Sometimes we have to do things we’d rather not, tolerate irritating habits and consider someone else’s needs when making decisions.
Yet much of today’s relationship advice seems to suggest that any discomfort is evidence of incompatibility.
When children are involved, things become considerably more complicated.
For divorced parents, a new relationship isn’t simply a matter of two adults deciding they enjoy each other’s company. There are children to consider, former spouses to navigate, custody arrangements and sometimes two entirely different approaches to parenting.
A spontaneous weekend away becomes a logistical exercise. Dinner dates are arranged around sporting commitments and school pick-ups. Even finding an evening together can require considerable planning.
Then comes the question of when to introduce a new partner to the children.
As a child psychologist, I would caution against introducing children to every person a parent dates. Children need stability and should not be expected to form attachments to adults who may disappear from their lives a few months later.
But I also think we need to be careful about the extent to which children’s preferences determine their parents’ romantic lives.
We’ve become so concerned with protecting children from discomfort that we sometimes forget discomfort isn’t necessarily harmful.
A child’s reluctance to accept a new partner is understandable, particularly when they’ve already experienced the disruption of separation. They may resent sharing their parent’s attention or feel uncomfortable with another adult becoming part of family life. But parents need to be careful about interpreting every objection as evidence that the relationship is somehow harmful.
Good parenting doesn’t require children to approve of every adult decision. It requires parents to make responsible decisions and support their children through the changes that follow.
I sometimes wonder, too, whether children become a convenient justification for adults who are themselves reluctant to commit.
It’s easier to say the children aren’t ready than to admit that perhaps we aren’t.
This isn’t to suggest parents should rush into relationships or dismiss their children’s concerns. A new partner should be introduced thoughtfully, and any decision to combine households deserves careful consideration.
Blended families are complicated. Children don’t automatically develop affection for each other simply because their parents have fallen in love. There may be disagreements about discipline, household expectations, privacy and the role of a new partner.
But these difficulties aren’t necessarily reasons to abandon the prospect of building a shared future. They are challenges that require patience, maturity and compromise.
Which brings me back to the eharmony research findings.
There is nothing inherently wrong with couples choosing to maintain separate homes. For some families, it may be the most sensible and sustainable arrangement.
But I suspect the growing appeal of independence also reflects something about our expectations of relationships. We’ve become accustomed to viewing compromise as a loss, rather than an ordinary feature of intimacy.
After divorce, it’s understandable to be cautious about surrendering the freedom we’ve regained. Nobody wants to make the same mistakes twice. But if every request for compromise feels like a threat to our independence, we might need to consider whether we’re actually ready for another relationship.
There’s a certain irony in reaching middle age, knowing exactly what we want from a relationship, and then discovering that what we want is someone who won’t interfere too much with the life we’ve already built.
Perhaps the question we should be asking isn’t whether someone is good enough to fit into our lives, but whether we’re prepared to make the effort to fit into theirs.
