Just don’t! Why I’d tell my 21-year-old self never to get married by MELANIE CANTOR

This morning I walked my dog ​​Mabel and listened to Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s podcast Wiser than me. She taps into the wisdom of older celebrity women. It’s brilliant.

At the end, Louis-Dreyfus always asks her interviewees what they would say to their 21-year-old selves. Today’s guest, model Beverly Johnson, said, “Don’t get married!” It made me laugh out loud because of the many things I would say to my younger self, this would be one of them.

When I got divorced in 1992, I went to a wonderful therapist named Renee. I had been married for ten years and was deeply unhappy. I tried to understand why. I lived a seemingly beautiful life. What was wrong with me? Was I selfish by tearing apart the family unit? My sons, then six and four, were going to have a weekend dad. What was I thinking?

Renee told me that the word selfish had gotten a bad name. Taking care of ourselves is one of the best things we can do for ourselves and those around us, she said. She made me understand why I was unhappy and I finally took that leap.

In case you’re wondering, my ex-husband has been happily married for the past twenty years. I am happily single. When I separated, I was 34 years old. I thought I would never meet anyone again and honestly I didn’t really care. But the relationship gods intervened and I did. After a year we moved in together. My children loved him.

After a few years he proposed and I accepted. The next morning I told him I had changed my mind. I panicked because I felt ‘owned’ again. I wanted to be with him because I chose to.

I didn’t need a prenup. He understood and our relationship remained healthy for another six and a half years.

And then he put an end to it; Apparently the problem was that I moved too often. (I move about once every three years.) Clearly, our divorce wasn’t just due to my housekeeping habit – I also killed the cat! She was 16. She couldn’t handle the step. Yet he remains the best relationship I will ever have.

The only time I lived together again was my last dip into the well of love. It was winter of 2008; I was 52, he was 38. He was a lawyer, but he had found his calling and wanted to give up everything to become a Reiki healer. I could hardly argue. I had been a celebrity agent, but just that year I had given up everything to become a novelist.

We both took the road less traveled. Mine less spiritual!

On our first date I asked him if he wanted children. If he did, obviously I wouldn’t waste my time. My date was ambivalent. I don’t think the idea even occurred to him. Six months later we went to the wedding of his friends, let’s call them Mike and Fiona, on the Amalfi Coast, after which we went on holiday to Sardinia for a week.

Melanie at home with her dog Mabel

One night, over dinner, he told me he was worried about Mike because Fiona didn’t want children, but he thought Mike did.

I knew intuitively that he was talking about himself. Later I wondered if maybe he had changed his mind about children and he said, maybe. ‘Then where does that leave me?’

I have asked. “It’s not about you,” he replied. “It’s about my journey.” Can someone show me the exit, please?

We had three days left of our vacation, so I tried to hold it together until we got home, when I was going to tell him it was over. Only my face gave me away and that evening, at dinner, he asked me what was wrong. I told him. He was terrified. There were tears. Oh God. Men and tears. Who can resist? So based on the fact that we agreed that relationships can end for a hundred different reasons, we continued down that path.

He moved to my house in the Cotswolds, but when we entered London we returned to our respective flats. It was the perfect setup. Together and apart. I wrote. (Mostly for myself at the time.) He practiced reiki. (Mostly on himself.) I asked why he couldn’t do reiki and law; talking about dreams and energy became boring. His answer was always, ‘Because I am a spiritual person.’ Finally, I came to my senses and realized that dreams and energy were not enough. I gave up on him. He went back to law. He now has two children.

Because we are conditioned to think that when a relationship ends we have to meet someone else, I immediately started online dating. I’ve been on some really bad dates. I was 56 and I tried to date men who matched their age. But men my age don’t want women who match their age. They want thirty year olds so they don’t feel their age. Sometimes they were attracted to my profile just to pretend to please me.

Others were more concerned about telling me about their ex-wives; that she could not cook or use the microwave. Not compelling.

I dated a guy who had a “my mom, your dad” attitude. My youngest son and his friend thought we might be a match. We met at a cute local Italian trattoria. He was dirty, not me. We ordered from the handwritten paper menu.

I was chatting, focused on him, when he said, “Melanie, your menu is on fire and it’s right near your hair!” (I accidentally left it resting on the tealight.)

All hell broke loose. The waiter flapped at the fire sensor to stop it from ringing, the waitress desperately opened and closed the door to try and create gusts of wind, I blew on the menu which eventually burned out. I thought it was hilarious. A great icebreaker. The look on his face told me otherwise. We tolerated each other until it was polite to leave.

I finally stopped dating in 2018. Covid helped. In the six years of just me and my dog, I realized I was the happiest I had ever been. I learned who I am by being alone.

Still, I don’t want to leave this earth without ever kissing again. I like kissing. If I met someone whose ambitions matched mine, that would be great. But I can never live with anyone. Maybe a day here and there. A weekend, wonderful.

But freedom and contentment are hard earned. I will not hand them over. Not even out of love.

Melanie’s latest novel The F**k It! List is published by Penguin, £8.99. To order a copy for £8.09 until June 2, visit mailshop.co.uk/books or call 020 3176 2937. Free UK delivery on orders over £25.

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