Most parents I know keep an unspoken countdown: we track exactly how long until our kids go to college. This number has nothing to do with tuition. It’s a tentative timeline for the end of our marriage—when we presume the children will be too busy to be too damaged by the messy aftermath. I’ve got eight more years to go.
I’m not saying my husband and I are headed for divorce, but there’s a certain thrill in imagining the possibilities. (I’d probably choose a more patient man who is indifferent to sports; he’d want a woman with fewer feelings and more interest in skiing.) We wouldn’t be alone, either—roughly one-third of those who get divorced in the U.S. now file when they’re 50 or older.
