Real-life. “My husband thinks that romance doesn't exist after 60”: But I still want love

He looked at me over his glasses, stopping to read the newspaper.

We had been together for over forty years. Our lives had a calm rhythm – dinners together, evenings in front of the TV, daily conversations about what needed to be done. Everyone said we were the perfect couple. But deep down I felt something was missing. I missed closeness, tenderness, those small gestures that used to be an everyday occurrence between us.

One evening, during dinner, I gathered my courage and asked:

– Janie, do you remember how you used to go on walks with me at sunset? How you brought me flowers for no reason?

He looked at me from behind his glasses, stopping to read the newspaper.

– Ania, that was a long time ago. Now we're older, we have different priorities. Why go back to things like that?

– Because I still need this – I replied quietly, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.
Jan sighed heavily.

– Ania, we're not young anymore. Romanticism is a young person's thing. We have each other, that should be enough.

The words were like a blow. Did he really think that love ends with youth? That tenderness and romance cease to matter once wrinkles and gray hairs appear? I tried to understand his point of view, but my heart told me otherwise.

Over the next few days I felt a growing emptiness. Every meal we shared, every conversation about everyday matters seemed devoid of any deeper meaning. Finally I decided to change something. I started small – I suggested a walk, I lit a candle during dinner, I bought myself a new dress. But Jan looked at all of this with indifference.

One day I couldn't take it anymore.

– Jan, do you still love me? – I asked, looking him straight in the eye.

He was clearly surprised by my question.

– Of course I love you, Ania. But after all these years, love looks different. We don't need all those things like we used to.

– Maybe you don't – I replied, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. – But I do. I don't want us to be just roommates. I want to feel that you still love me.

Jan was silent, as if he didn't know what to say. I stood up and left the room, not wanting to show him my tears.

Over the next few weeks, I felt like we were drifting apart. I was disoriented, unsure of how to fix something that seemed irreversibly broken. I started spending more time alone, going for walks, talking to friends. But deep down, I still missed my husband, the man who used to make me feel special.

One day, I came home to a small bouquet of wildflowers on the table. There was a note next to it.

„Ania, I'm not good at talking about feelings. I know I've let you down lately. I may have other priorities, but you have always been and will always be the most important. Let's go for a walk today? – Jan.

Holding the note in my hands, I felt my heart start to beat faster. When Jan returned home, I smiled at him gratefully.

– Thank you – I said, hugging him tightly.

That evening we went for a walk together, just like we used to. There were no fireworks or big words, but in his gestures and looks I saw something that made me feel loved again. I understood that romance doesn't have to be spectacular. Sometimes a simple gesture is enough to remind you that love is still there – regardless of age.

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