Emma and I have been married for twentysix years. We met at university, married after graduation and, two years later, welcomed our son Ben. It was a perfectly ordinary life, nothing out of the ordinary.
When Ben grew up, got married and moved to London with his wife, everything at home changed. Suddenly there was nothing left for Emma and me to talk about, and we didnt even feel the need to. We knew each other insideout, could finish each others sentences with a glance. A few words now and then, then silence.
When I first started work after university there was a woman in our department, about fortyfive, who always seemed older than her years. She took winter holidays, always returning with a flawless tan. Her short, boyish blonde haircut only highlighted the sunkissed look of her face.
Must be using the tanning salon, a younger colleague whispered to Emma.
One day Emma could no longer hold back and asked the woman how she managed to stay so bronzed in winter.
We were on a ski break in the Scottish Highlands, the woman replied.
Really? At your age? Emma gasped.
The woman laughed heartily.
At my age? Im only fortyfive. When you reach my years youll understand that this is real youth not childish, but mature. Remember, lass, boredom is the biggest enemy of a marriage. All affairs and divorces start with boredom. When the kids become independent, life settles into a quiet routine. Thats when men start feeling restless. We women never have the luxury to be bored. We work, look after the children, and shoulder all the household chores, while a man lies on the sofa, resting after work, wondering what to do with his untapped energy. Some drink, some look for new thrills, as the saying goes, they go hunting for another woman.
I was foolish, thinking my husband was simply tired, that it was harmless to lounge in front of the telly, not drink, and be content. I buzzed around the house like a windup toy. Then one day he said hed fallen in love with someone else, that he was bored with me, and he left. Can you imagine?
When I married again, I treated my husband differently. I made him help around the house, we always went out of town on weekends, skied in winter, hiked in the hills. I never gave him a minutes peace; I kept him on his toes, never letting him sprawl on the sofa. Were still together, the children are grown, and we travel around the country. It might not suit everyone, but the point is clear.
Emma never forgot that womans words. She started noticing that after a hearty dinner James would shuffle off to the sofa in front of the TV. It became harder and harder to coax him out of the house. Once he used to join us on treks, raft down fastflowing rivers, and surprise me with birthday gifts.
Emma tried to shake James out of his rut. She bought theatre tickets, a cruise on a threedecked river boat along the Thames. In the theatre he dozed, at a friends place he yawned after a couple of glasses of wine, and on the boat he complained about the cramped cabin. Skiing was out of the question; the extra weight around his midsection made him dread any active sport.
When Emma suggested a night at the cinema, he looked at her with weary eyes and said, Where are you dragging me? I just want a quiet weekend to catch up on sleep. Go with your friends.
In the early days of our marriage James used to go camping with his mates. They formed a solid crew, loved rafting down rapids, and he played guitar and sang a decent tune. I never joined themwork, pregnancy, looking after the baby always held me back.
My husband should stop taking holidays, my mother warned me. Hell find someone with similar interests elsewhere.
Going on a trek doesnt mean hell cheat, I replied. I trust James, and Ill wait for him to come back. I truly believed him and waited for his return from the hills.
Eventually the leader of the group settled down, had kids, and the adventures stopped. One Saturday Emma snuggled up next to me on the sofa with a photo album. At first she was reluctant, then she grew more enthusiastic, flipping through pictures and reminiscing.
Dont you want to relive a bit of the old days, remember the youth? she asked.
No, who would I go with? Everyones busy, grandchildren everywhere.
Come with me. Ive never been on your hikes. Show some initiative, call a few of your old mates, maybe someone will agree.
Are you serious? Those were reckless, wild youths, and now
now were wiser? I said with a sarcastic smile. Then lets go to the theatre this weekend, do something cultured, she replied, slamming the album shut and kicking up a cloud of dust.
I thought about it. Later, over dinner, he said, I spoke to a few of the blokes. Tom promised to map out a route, he still has his tent. We could rent a raft from the sports club. I watched his eyes light up and felt a surge of happiness.
He warned, It wont be easy for a newcomer. The rivers fast, there are mosquitos, well have to sleep on the ground in sleeping bags, no showers, no proper loo, well have to dig a spot behind a bush. Youll probably want to head back on the first day.
Dont worry, I promised.
He gave me a skeptical look. Well need proper gear, not your stilettos and silk slippers. He dragged me into the outdoor store, never letting me off. I know youll buy swimsuits and dresses, but for a trek you need warm clothing and sturdy boots.
I followed his lead without question. Soon our rucksacks were packed.
Put it on, lets see what youve prepared, he said.
I hoisted the heavy pack, grimaced, and felt it crush my shoulders. I imagined trudging over uneven ground, through ditches and bracken.
Take it off, he ordered. Lets see what youre actually carrying.
I set the bag down, breathing a sigh of relief. He rummaged out hair rollers, a vanity case, a hairdryer, countless jars of cream, shampoo, and a pile of weekendwear not meant for the outdoors.
The mosquitoes will have a field day, he muttered. Maybe you should stay at home. He looked at me with pity.
I tangled my thoughts, then he stripped the bag of the useless items, leaving only the essentials. The load became manageable.
I can do this, I declared, feeling a surge of confidence.
I recalled how Id tried to pull him into theatre and art, pushing my interests on him. Hed eventually give in. As his partner, I should stand by him in both hardship and joy.
The nearer we got to departure, the more doubts crept in. We arrived at the station, waiting for the train that would take us away from civilized comforts. Besides us were three other men and a woman.
Are the other friends divorced? I asked quietly.
No, their wives and grandchildren are at home, he replied.
The train ride was lively; the men swapped funny stories, James dusted off an old guitar from the loft and played a few chords. I decided that if things kept going like this, Id manage fine.
When we finally left the station and walked a few miles from it, my back ached from the pack, my legs trembled with fatigue, and sweat soaked my face. I felt ashamed to complain, seeing the men lugging sleeping bags, tents, and a deflated boat.
The countryside was beautiful, but I forced myself not to trip, not to fall, not to break a leg. When we reached the river, all I wanted was to lie on the grass and never move again. The men quickly lit a fire and set up their tents as if they hadnt been tired at all.
Youll get used to it, encouraged Tanya, the wife of one of the men. Lets fetch water, we need to cook dinner.
Tears of longing for home, a hot shower, a soft bed welled up. Yet I kept going. James played his guitar by the fire, his voice surprisingly warm and lively. In that moment I saw the James Id fallen in love with years ago.
The next day, as he examined the blisters on my hands from rafting, he asked, Thinking of running away?
No, I answered firmly.
Approaching the rapids, my heart raced. The river roared, jagged stones jutted out of the water. I wanted to suggest staying on the bank, but his teasing grin made me bite my tongue. I clung to the rafts side, forgetting the oars, terrified of being swept into the cold water.
When the rapids finally passed, I exhaled a huge sigh and shouted with joy louder than anyone else.
We returned home after a week, exhausted but thrilled and full of stories. I realised I would miss the new friends, the songs around the fire, the open air and the silence.
After a shower and a hearty dinner we sat sidebyside at the laptop, looking at photos, teasing each other, catching up on conversation we hadnt had in ages. The trek had brought us back together; we now had common interests again. We fell asleep in each others arms, just like in our early years.
What about another trek next year? I asked, snuggling close to his warm side.
You liked it? he laughed. Its not a night out at the West End. Its life.
Next time Ill be better prepared, you wont be embarrassed, I promised.
Its not embarrassing, he replied. For a rookie you were brilliant. I didnt expect it. You surprised me.
His praise made my cheeks flush.
When our son called, I rattled off the whole adventure.
Youve got a wild life over there, I thought youd be bored and lonely.
Were bored, actually. How are you? I asked.
Were expecting a baby a boy or a girl, well see, he said, delighted.
After the holiday I returned to work, eyes bright, a rope bracelet with beads on my wrist.
Youve been in the south? Youre not tanned at all. Nice bracelet, a colleague remarked, pointing at it.
Its a talisman. A shaman gave it to me, I replied.
So, if you want to revive a fading marriage, dont just sit at home. Find something you can share with your partner. Extreme adventures may not be for everyone, but theres always an alternative. As a writer once said, Never regret the effort you put in to save love. We started small after thatweekend walks, cooking classes, stargazing in the back garden with blankets and thermoses. We even joined a local hiking group, where we met couples our age rediscovering each other just like we were. James still talks about next years trek like its a promise, and Ive already begun breaking in my new boots. The house feels alive again, filled with plans instead of silence, with laughter that lingers past bedtime. Love didnt fadeit just needed new ground to grow.
