Dear reader, my experienced lover’s past embraces the decades of romance, beginning from our clumsy teenage stage and continuing at the magnificent sixties.
Buckle up, and be ready to experience the heartbroken antics
of my past because if there’s one thing that I know it is-
"Laughter resolves everything: even our love life problems."
Get ready for the joys of retelling love-struck folly, as if I haven’t come to realize that everything in matters of heart and soul is much funnier than people think. As you’re soon to be reminded of the naivete and self-delusion that marked my romantic escapades.
Years later I can only conclude bitterly but with a laugh:
Love is always humorous when it comes from left field.
Laughter treats and cures this madness.
Let us turn back the pages of time when acne was my arch enemy and I had a haircut that would scare away any dandelion. The adolescent stage was a time when my concept of romance was gifting my crush an ordinary piece of bubblegum and receiving in return the dreadful look. Love was as rare as a unicorn, and my courting efforts were about a successful attempt at walking on roller skates for a giraffe. 😛
Skip ahead to my twenties, although not ‘Great Gatsby-esque’, but rather those that taught me about mixtapes and how presenting my affection with a selection of tracks could be adorable as well as somewhat uncomfortable. But saying “ I love you” with a tape that gradually shifts from Mohmad Rafi to Asha Bhonsle to Nazia Hasan – does it work? 🤔
Who can forget those songs…
“Diwana Hua Badal”, “O Mere Sona Re Sona”, “Abhi Na Jao Chhod Kar” or “Ye Ladka Hay Allah Kaisa Hai Diwana”…. etc.
Talk about the thirties – a time of responsibility where love took second place to mortgage payments and trying to understand how new technologies work. I recall the good old days when we considered the internet a passing trend and communicated through pagers, and carrier pigeons. What would we have done without emojis? 🧐
It added to us the happiness of being parents, or those sleepless nights and endless diaper changes. The meaning of love took yet another shape and form as I struggled alongside my partner to take the perilous oceans. Handling those tiny humans without unintentionally hitting them on their heads.Spoiler alert: We made it, though not without a couple of near misses.
The forties and fifties when a child’s laugh turns into the music of an empty nest. Amid this unexplored reality, love finds itself experiencing an incredible metamorphosis. Welcome to the age of discovery, in which love finds a new expression, and couples travel Bermuda’s untested oceans after rearing their families. 🤪
The forties bring order, as the school drop-offs and soccer practice are gone leaving only memories to cherish. The house now feels eerily silent and overwhelmingly vast. It’s like the universe has given you a megaphone and says, “Okay silly lovebirds; there are your spotlights.”
Having acquired free time, love becomes the discovery of shared hobbies and forgotten passions. Date nights are no longer driven by PTA meetings or nighttime routines but rather a chance to reunite, reminisce and maybe even dance so hard we make fools of ourselves—because what nester cannot shake it?
The 50s arrive and our job changes from active parenting to becoming the sage, slightly odd elders that they roll their eyes at. Love shifts then to a long-distance race of aid, be it career transitions, digital integration or advice that is greeted with an appreciative grin.
It is not a mere physical space but an empty nest, which can be the platform for constructing so much more than parental roles – it’s about a love story into the core of being partners and friends. It’s about finding that person you loved all those years ago and realizing, that despite the wrinkles and grey hair, this passion can still be alive.
Of course, there are those times of sadness when you encounter discarded baby pictures or how much less costly is your food bill. However, these pale in comparison with the joy of seeing what incredible adults your children have grown into and how big your heart inflates is a kind of love that propelled their walk.
In the forties and fifties, love is an opportunity to redefine itself not as a burden but rather as the joy of shared experiences, inside jokes which you know only your couple possesses all and the occasional discovery that cooking doesn’t necessarily have mac ‘n’ cheese.
Therefore, to all the empty nesters sailing in this uncharted sea here is your drink saluting you for navigating through the quietness and enjoying every bit of freedom that comes with it and reminding you that love (in one’s forties & fifties) has matured like fine wine. Hooray for the next chapter; may it bring with it more love, laughter and perhaps even an occasional surprise dance party in the living room. 💑🕺💖
Now, here we are in the sixties when love means a tapestry created with threads of shared experiences and smile lines along with joint pains (yet to feel it though, based on hearsay 😄). How is love done at this age? Patience, tolerance and the ability to laugh at such things as having date nights around doctor appointments.
Love has been the powerful silk thread that kept everything I was together even if what I was consisted of ill-advised fashion, cringe dance moves and all. So, my dear reader, as you embark on your journey through the labyrinth of love, remember this: though wrinkles may appear, or hair turn grey and lose the lustre of youth, laughter will always be a hidden aspect of love that stands up to adversity.
And thus, with my memories full and a few strokes more than I started with, I toast to love – the kind that spans centuries despite idiosyncrasies as it makes every passing year another episode in life’s cosmic joke.
Love and creases, my friends love and wrinkles. 💖✨
This is all from me about love!