‘My husband has bought a flash car – and lost my respect’
Dear A&E,
My lovely, down-to-earth husband of 27 years has just bought himself an extremely flashy Mercedes. Silver. Cream leather seats. Electric. Special wheels. Super-fast (we live in a 20mph zone and, to get anywhere, have to negotiate a dual carriageway lined with speed cameras) and super-silly. I just don’t understand how he cannot see that this looks tragic and desperate, and what a criminal waste of money it is. I would much rather drive our 10-year-old Vauxhall – and I’ve told him so in no uncertain terms. He can’t understand why I’m not… excited? Ugh. Why do I respect him slightly less?
-Repulsed
Dear Repulsed,
When we first read your letter, we found ourselves sympathising with your reaction. Until we paused. We thought. We gave ourselves a talking to. And we are about to do the same to you…
The reason you respect him slightly less is because you have been educated to be cynical and deeply judgmental around men and their “pathetic” midlife crises. Flashy car? What next? Flashy toupée? Flashy woman?
Honestly, Repulsed, listen to yourself. You are so fluent and amusing with your mockery. Such lightness of touch. Imagine how reduced your husband might feel as you dampen his dreams with your derision. Boys are brought up with toy racing cars, Formula One, speed-freak computer games. Many of them spend their lives fantasising about what motor they’d buy if only they could. Finally, he has taken the plunge. He has ripped off his mask and, guess what, he’s been a boy racer all along. Of course you didn’t know this was his wildest dream, because it would have felt silly to tell you. And now, there you are, sneering at him from on high. Your longer letter tells us that he is showing no irresponsibility in any other area of his life. He can afford this car without raiding savings or pension pots. What, in truth, is the problem?
Partly, this is ageism. A young man in a silly car is… silly? An older man in a silly car is… tragic? What do you think you’re doing, on a Saturday morning, cruising through the Cotswolds, having a lovely time and doing no one any harm? How dare you? What makes you think you are allowed to do this? Do not think you will be the one to escape our judgment. You deserve to be humiliated. Stop it.
Now, let’s swap lenses: picture a woman of 25 in a mini-skirt. She will receive a certain flavour of judgment. A woman of his age in a miniskirt? Tragic. Cut and paste the rest from above. Either way, it is not OK. And it says more about the judge than the judged.
We mock middle-aged men’s choices ruthlessly and relentlessly. The mamil (middle-aged man in Lycra). The late-blooming artist. The tan, the teeth, the hair. We see them as fair game. Men still have – as a rule – comparatively little bandwidth for self-expression, and when they take the opportunity to say something about themselves or their dreams we leap upon them like predators. Maybe your husband has wanted this fun, splashy, energetic piece of machinery for 40 years or more and the moment he can afford it, the “tragic” label comes as a side dish. We are also super-judgmental about how people spend their money. Why didn’t you spend it on an extension? A holiday? Charity? Children? Pension? Diamonds? And now – in the time of a social media frenzy and a cost of living crisis – there is a lot of showing off going on, with many people sighing, “Read the room, guys.”
Perhaps you are concerned about being tainted with the tragedy brush yourself? We would all do well to remember that what other people think of us is none of our business. If we wish to live a wholehearted life, anyway. So, expensive cars are not your thing. Do you need something of your own? Do you need the time and space and money to invest in your wildest dream, irrespective of what anyone thinks about that, because – news flash – you’ve now got the permission. Not that you need it.
Imagine if your son came to you and told you that he would so love to own a beautiful car one day. That he planned to save for it and work for it and, when the time seemed right, to have it. Would you tell him that everyone would laugh at him? That he would seem pathetic? That his wife would laugh at him. Or would you hope that his choice would be accepted by the loved ones he had always treated with respect? And would you pray that, after all his careful planning and industry, no one would ruin it for him?
