I left for a brief, solitary walk on Tuesday morning. When I returned I ventured into the office where the professor was putting away laundry or something like that. I can’t recall.
‘So,’ he looked at me, ‘it’s the end of Allen Tipper. Done.’
I consulted my (miniature, mental) sports rolodex for any clue about who Allen Tipper might be. I had to do the same thing when my better half phoned me from DC a couple of weeks ago: ‘Do you know who Jerry Rice is?’ It seemed like a sporty kind of name, but I honestly had no clue. I confessed as much and the professor muttered something about him being a great quarterback or linebacker or neither of those two and told me he’d seen him in the hotel lobby. (I ended up googling him.)
‘Um, who’s Allen Tipper?’ I asked after about three seconds of pretending I might know.
‘You know…Al and Tipper….the Vice President?’
The Gores?! ‘Are you serious?’ I confirmed this most unexpected piece of information. I mean the Enquirer has predicted the demise of most political marriages – Bill and Hillary, George and Laura, John and Elizabeth. Even Barack and Michelle. But I couldn’t recall any sensationalist headlines regarding the Gores.
‘Yup,’ he nodded as if he was privy to some exclusive insider information. Intrigued, I lunged towards the computer and found an article on CNN. Sure enough, ’twas true.
It seems…odd…for lack of a better word, to spend forty years of your life with someone and THEN decide that you’d prefer to go it alone. (Or try your luck with someone else.) The article points to longer lifespans as a contributing factor, saying there is ‘much life to be lived’ when you’re in your sixties. Or seventies.
Sure, true. But doesn’t it seem like a waste of your time – to spend so many years being married to one person and then when you get to be 60 or 70 conclude you’re not actually happy and you want to ‘live it up’ for the last few years of your life?
I looked at the professor. ‘So, if you’re thinking you’re probably going to want to pack it in down the road can you give me a heads up?’ Sooner rather than later. Because I’m guessing ‘fading looks’ and ‘mother of three insane boys’ aren’t big pluses in the dating scene. I’ll need to become really wealthy or at least improve my appalling general knowledge if I’m going to be a contender. Though maybe the 60 and over dating scene is less ambitious than the 20 to 35 dating scene.
It has to be said I’m not sure where the professor will find another with a (shared) fondness for Richard Clayderman. (Maybe France’s 60 and over dating scene?)