They’ve been married for 25 years, and raised twins – but have never lived in the same house. Is this the secret to long-term happiness?
‘Goodnight, honey,” I say. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” my husband says. I turn over to go to sleep. He turns to the door to catch the train home.
That has been my nightly routine for 25 years. Well, not every night. Occasionally, there’s some reason John needs to be in my neighbourhood early in the morning. Or, now that we’re old – correction: with our 29-year age gap, I’m old, he’s ancient – there’s the issue of his knees, and if they’re particularly bothersome, he might brave a night with me and our 15-year-old twin sons instead of the New York subway. But, for the most part, he arrives around 4pm, I make dinner for 6pm, we obsessively watch the news for a few hours (thank you, President Trump) and later in the night my husband goes to his apartment a couple of miles away.
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