I'm so hot. I'm so hot, hot, hot. He's so slow, he's so slowwww.

     The conversation women my age are having begins like this: "My husband is slowing down and I still want to keep going." "He acts so old!" The tone of bewilderment that accompanies the complaint is revealing. We expected many things of this stage of our lives, but our mate slowing down before us seems to come as a surprise. We still feel vibrant, or at least want to promote a lifestyle that feeds our restless energy, while our husbands are content to set the gear to idle. It's as if our men pulled off the road and said, "Okay, here's far enough," prompting us to respond with, "No, no, there's more up there, let's keep going. Yes, the view is nice here but no, no, no. This won't do. The road is meant to be traveled." We must keep moving, yet our partner is inexplicably impassive.

     And what is it that is to be found in moving forward? What is left to be pioneered? We made and raised our children and sent them out to the world. We gave ourselves to work and community-building and to the needs of others.  There is less future to wrangle now, but we still bear the habits of forethought and planning. The complaint we women express is that we still have stamina and we still dream and we aren't ready to be old. To suffer through empty-nest syndrome and impending retirement we expected, but we imagined our lives would have to take on new purpose--we'd find new activities, hobbies, and adventures. And all this we imagined doing collectively--as a couple. Our surprise comes when we realize that our mate's energy has becomes stunningly unequal to our own.  We feel thwarted and maybe resentful. Since the hard work of providing for a family has subsided it seems right to shift that energy back to being a couple. All that energy can now be redirected and don't we just have the best ideas! But here comes the rub--our men don't want to put their energy into our pursuits. They want to conserve it for themselves. They don't want to aid us in our house remodels as we dream of turning a spare bedroom into an giant custom closet.  They don't want to go art gallery hopping on First Fridays or take a culinary class in artisanal bread making. They don't want to hike Machu Picchu or train for a century bike ride with you in California. They don't want to ride a burro down the Grand Canyon or venture through the Arctic to see puffins. They don't want to raise another puppy, join a yoga class or a tennis league, host large gatherings on the patio, or go to outdoor concerts with you.

     What do they want to do you ask? "Nothing," is the answer. Incredulous, even I can not wrap my head around why my husband is content to do nothing.--or at least be willing to do the "somethings" I suggest. I have an ideal image of what our older age together looks like and he doesn't show the proper enthusiasm for my notions.  He has no energy for the activities I dream up. Everything sounds like work to him.  Outside of work he wants to watch television, take his naps, play some golf with old friends. That's about it.  He is tired and he makes no apologies. I am hurt by this seeming betrayal and rejection of my future-shaping. God knows, he has earned the right to whatever he wants to make of the rest of his life, but I keep making plans suited for the man I remember--that younger swashbuckling never-say-die guy. This disconnect I exhibit must annoy him greatly and I am trying (somewhat) not to be so insensitive. However, ah yes, however; he too, imposes on me an equal offense when he assumes I am the libidinous ever-ready wife of his past. Touche.

      I want us to be young. I want the future to be full of glorious possibilities. I want my husband to still dream with me. This, I suppose is the cause of my constant dissatisfaction with him. I'm thinking like a young wife because I've never been an old wife. Who wants to be old? When does old happen? If I don't feel old why am I required to act old?  How about I just carry on as usual knowing that I will recognize old when it happens to me. That's an answer I can live with. One day I may find myself ready to step off the gas and join him on the slow cruise. Until then, if we are to survive as a couple, I must respect his own vision for his aging years and leave him out of my schemes. I can pursue my own desires without pushing or cajoling him to join me. He can jump in when he feels like it or otherwise accommodate me when my plans leave him behind.  I do not know how our future as a couple will evolve in this new phase of our lives just like I did not know how we would maneuver every other phase we lived through.  We did maneuver and though it wasn't always smoothly or satisfactorily we lived by the spirit of mutual consideration and cooperation. Call that love, I suppose. It's the best tool we have to navigate the unknown territory ahead.