New love in old age is not ‘yucky’ at all

The last film starring James Gandolfini has just come out after his recent death, causing a stir because it’s the story of romance in later life.

For elderly singletons like me, mention to any young person that there is still a place in your life for love and (dare I say the word at my advanced age of 73) sex, and they will shout “Yuck!” and hide behind the sofa.

As the wrinkles gather, you are supposed to don a black gown, pick up a stick and a Zimmer frame, and (romantically speaking) shut up shop.

But life these days is not like that.

Last week I attended the launch of Joan Collins’s memoir, Passion For Life, and there is no question that for La Collins that passion still burns as brightly as ever. In her tight black suit, her teetering heels, her glossy scarlet lips seductively parted, she is definitely passionately in love with husband Percy, who is charming and 20 years her junior.

And as she always says to those who mention that age gap, “Well, if he dies, he dies”.

I know Joan is a special case. But among my friends at least two older widows have found love very late in life. It has revolutionised the way they look, the way they continue to take on new adventures.

But it ain’t easy. Women live longer than men, so finding an older bachelor is like tracking the yeti in the Himalayas. Having found him, you have to fancy him, and not many older men look like George Clooney. And even if he is physically fit and presentable, will he consider a woman of his own age as fanciable, or datable? In my experience, most men would pick a trophy girlfriend half their age.

Then there is the process of finding a mate.

The internet is full of traps. Might he be a conman, out to fleece you of your winter fuel allowance? I have youngish friends who have trawled cyberspace, found the mate of their dreams and are now happily married.

How else do you meet him? Who wants to spend the night in a bar noisy, expensive places where young people get drunk? Who gives dinner parties these days, seating you next to an eligible man?

And that first date for the older woman? It’s an intimidating hurdle. We are long past the giggly, eye-lash-fluttering stage. We have minds of our own. We know what kind of meal we enjoy (no curry, please, or sushi). We have learned what sort of entertainment works for us (please, no arena concerts, the noise is so deafening and I hate huge crowds).

And we know that as the night wears on the cool privacy of our own bed beckons, without anyone snoring beside us.

Above all, comparisons are odious, if you, like me, have had a partner who was a real soul-mate. My late husband Desmond and I laughed together, loved together, rang each other six or seven times a day, and wept over rom-coms together. He would have loved James Gandolfini’s new film. I don’t think I’ll have the heart to see it on my own.

So maybe I have shut up shop. Which is a shame, because it’s not only single women like me who miss having a loving partner by their side. Single men can feel isolated when they lose their partner. Without her, he can feel bereft, helpless, and rudderless.

As one older man wrote to me: “Having just lost my wife to Alzheimer’s 72 years since we first kissed, and she waited for me throughout the war and I for her . . . loneliness, tell me about it.”

So if you’re in later life, and decide to go hunting for a mate, good luck to you.

And to any young person reading this and saying “Yuck”, there may come a time when new love in old age doesn’t seem yucky at all . . .