The 3 Words That Ended My Relationship With My Boyfriend

At nearly 60, I was taking stock of what I wanted for the next decade of my life. Call it old-fashioned, but I want a man who takes care of me in small, meaningful ways — including treating me to dinner once in a while. Especially if he’s the one I’m planning to marry.

We had met at a friend’s firepit party three years earlier during the pandemic. He made me laugh — always my litmus test for chemistry. Chivalrously, he offered me his fleece when I felt chilly. That night, he put his number in my phone and texted me before I went to sleep to ensure I got home safely.

Not that there weren’t red flags from the start. He scheduled a pre-date date to be transparent about his complicated career trajectory and past relationships. At one point, he had gotten into financial trouble. Since then, he had made major changes, determined to live within his means. I thought, He’s complicated. No thanks.

He told me we didn’t have to keep our dinner date if I wasn’t comfortable. I hesitated — I hadn’t been in a relationship since my divorce a decade earlier. The truth was, we were having fun together. Two nights later, he was kissing me against my car, and the words falling in love were spoken. And just like that, we were a couple.

Over time, he became a steady presence in my children’s lives. He bought my older son a sophisticated bike and taught him how to tune it up. He took my younger son to buy an Apple watch as a graduation present. He stayed with them while I traveled back and forth to see my mom, who was ill. Cheerfully, he cared for the dog and easily blended with my friends. I, too, fit seamlessly into his world, spending holidays with his sister and her family.

On our first anniversary, he said, “I know it’s too soon to talk about marriage, but I want to mark our commitment.” We exchanged skinny silver bracelets from Etsy that we never took off.

He’d often say things like, “My friends keep asking, ‘When are you going to marry her?’ And I tell them, ‘I’m working on it!’ ” We both assumed this relationship was heading toward a formal commitment.

But at the two-year mark, he left his steady job to launch another startup. I worried — he had no savings despite his wealthy background. Meanwhile, I had scrimped and saved my entire life, making responsible financial decisions. Of course, I cheered him on, but soon, I was riding the roller coaster of his startup’s highs and lows. We canceled our annual trip to Mexico because he couldn’t afford the time or the flight.

Four months later, I became an empty nester. I decided to sell my house to ease the financial burden of college tuition. It would have been the logical time for us to move in together, but neither of us mentioned it. So I looked for new homes alone, even though I pictured him cooking in the future kitchen, the dog wagging nearby.

Our Friday night happy hours became less happy. We stopped talking about the big things — his crumbling business, my growing doubts about our future. We trained ourselves to avoid hard conversations. But the small talk wasn’t cutting it.

The easy intimacy between us evaporated. I had two simple requests for the relationship: that we make time for intimacy regularly and that he take me to dinner once a week, which he found relaxing. Despite numerous discussions, those evenings happened less and less. We were growing apart, and when he suggested splitting the check that night at the restaurant, it was a glaring reminder: You’re on your own.

Some of my friends challenged my stance. Several are the breadwinners in their marriages. They asked, “If you were happy together, isn’t that the main thing?” But here’s the main thing: I don’t need someone to support me, but I want to feel like I’m in something with a man who has planned for his future and can show up for me, too. I don’t want to be the nurse or the purse. And I’m not alone.

Recent research shows that women over 60 are far less likely than men to remarry. A study by the Pew Research Center found that only 15 percent of women over 60 who divorce or become widowed choose to remarry, compared to 35 percent of men. The reasons are clear: Many women have spent their lives caregiving — raising children, supporting husbands’ careers, managing households. By this stage, we prioritize our independence, friendships and financial stability over romantic entanglements that require compromise or sacrifice.

For the last year, I kept telling myself that we were going through a rough patch and that we would make it work. But sitting at that bar, staring at the check, I knew I didn’t want to make it work anymore.

I wanted a relationship that felt easy, where love felt generous and where I wasn’t left questioning my place in the life of someone who made decisions differently from me.

So, I picked up the check that night. For the last time.

AARP essays share a point of view in the author’s voice, drawn from expertise or experience, and do not necessarily reflect the views of AARP.