Our in-the-office affair now needs to be an out-of-office affair, we both agreed. Above all, it MUST survive our pending retirement as both our future happiness depends largely on how Clive’s actual wife and my very occasional guy view the situation, assuming I’d even bother to tell him, that is.
Clive and I have shared an office and a train home five days a week for 20 years. He calls me, his “work wife” – I’m Diane. Clive has a real wife and family which I’ve known about from day one, and I’m many years divorced but happy in my own skin.
Like many professional relationships, we’ve been very professional and have become very close over the years. We’ve shared things we wouldn’t share with our “real” friends and family just by virtue of the time spent together, and we’ve also experienced lots of personal life milestones together.
We’ve never socialized outside of work aside from in-office functions and have never been to each other’s homes. That was, until our joint retiring date loomed over us, creating increasingly hard work.
The chances for retirement were diminishing each day – death by a thousand cuts one might say. We won’t see each other again – it hasn’t been the thrust of our relationship, but each day I began to “know” I would miss him. Clive and I had a sort of brother/sister relationship, and we’d miss the everyday closeness, banter, laughs and rants.
As if we were slowly dying, I imagined he felt the same at some level (we didn’t talk about things like that), but my overriding thoughts were, “How does one navigate ending relationships like this? We both knew it would end eventually. It’s not that we don’t have all kinds of things in common, but without the structure and framework of work, would we have anything real?”
I felt it wouldn’t be the only drawback to retirement for me. I have other (female) work friends who I know I’ll see because we socialize outside of work, but I’ll miss Clive. I’ve woken up a few times over the past month and imagined him next to me – my real husband was a decent guy, but he passed away many years ago.
Even when courting, he was nice, gentle, safe – what more could a girl want? We never had children, and looking back, it was probably because we only had sex a couple of times a month for a total of 10 minutes each session.
In my efforts to find reasoning, finding a way to maintain a relationship regularly filled my thoughts. Should I just accept that this is one of the things that retirement does, and just… let it go? I even went to psychotherapist Ed Thompson, where we talked about the intense friendship one can have, as work colleagues, neighbours, school-run friends, anything which exists as you might say, within a “framework”; but what happens when that goes?
An outside-the-office relationship would require more work, or may just not be possible. It’s a safe way, as Ed says, to get very close to someone. “In a way,” he says, “we protect ourselves with the frame we put around certain friendships.” He also feels it was key that the one person I should be discussing this with, I wasn’t able too.
“There seems to be a certain amount of fear around what could happen if you tried to change this friendship. Take it outside work; In this situation, work is like the parent, it has allowed you a boundary so you haven’t had to think about your friendship. Now that is about to end, it’s up to both of you what happens next.” Heterosexual men and women being ‘just’ friends is still difficult for some people to come to terms with. Can you really maintain this friendship outside of work?
Perhaps. It’s certainly worth trying, but I was still torn. The following morning I blindsided Clive, prompting momentary silence between us. The tension was palpable – even asking if coffee would break the ice didn’t cut it. The morning seemed an eternity, and Clive did his best but no eye contact was offered.
The mundane thought of how we’d both get on was now a “will we be allowed” to? My mind was working overtime – how did Clive really feel as a lot depends on how he feels – what, if anything, does his wife feel about our friendship?
Despite living in a supposedly enlightened society, heterosexual men and women being “just” friends is still difficult for some people to come to terms with. A lot seems to depend on cultural norms (when I left London for the countryside, very few people I met had opposite sex friends, only people they played sport with or another “framework” could they define their relationship by).
“There’s going to be a massive loss of routine when you stop work,” says Ed Mills, “so I imagine the potential loss of him is intertwined with that.” You seem perfectly OK about retirement and seem to have a good life outside of it, but it is a big life stage and one I think you should allow yourself to feel.
I remembered Ed saying: “You could suggest something like; Why don’t we meet for lunch 2 months after we’ve retired?’ “Yes,” I replied, “we could do it in a very fun, light way, not a heavy ‘we need to form a new friendship’ thing.” “If Clive says “No,” that’s a disappointment but you’ll know. If he says “Yes,” that may determine for both of you that there is something you both want to continue.”
With two days left before enforced retirement, I was determined to lighten the mood. How I did that was very much “out of character”, but something inside me wanted to dress totally out of character.
Retail therapy was something I’d not done for years, and I have to admit, I was wanting to provoke Clive and give him something special. Lunch hour beckoned, so I told Clive I would be a bit late because of a dentist appointment. He looked up, smiled, and said, “No problem, I think the company wouldn’t object as you’ve given them plenty of hours over the years.”
Newly 60, I was trying to remember how many years it was since I last made the effort to treat myself sartorially. I settled on the best part of 20 years ago. I looked into many shop windows trying to select smart, but different outfits – I wanted a very different look. First things first, hair appointment. “Hi Diane, lovely to see you – is it your usual?” “No, all change for me, thanks. I want a more interesting look.”
After some trial and error, hair this and that way, back, front, side-combed – chat of what type of dress I would wear, earrings, if any – the usual things that turn guys heads whatever her age. They agreed that the dress should dictate her “new look”, so they agreed to resume in one hour. Shop after shop, was spent trying various styles, colors, too revealing, not revealing enough etc. I chuckled to myself remembering all of my teenage poses – I was reliving different eras of my life.
I found a dress and showed it to my hairdresser so she could finish off the look.
When I got back to the office, Clive looked right in my face and said, “Wow, I’ve never seen you with make-up, you look lovely Diane.” I was so flattered and reminded him, as if he needed reminding, that the office was leaving early tomorrow. Last day – company tradition.
On arrival the following day, I was struggling with my new look so I got in a bit earlier. Halfway down the corridor were several cards and bunches of flowers from different departments I’d worked with over the years.
Some of the cards were for Clive and a box that clearly contained a bottle of Champagne and others containing copious amounts of his favourite lager.
As usual with these types of events, there was a day off from everyday office routine. Even women who barely spoke to me over the years had willingly signed many cards now adorning my desk.
Many cakes, orange juices, rolls and chocolates were devoured before the 4 p.m. pub visit was due. Clive had already consumed a fair amount of lager.He was surprised by the sheer volume of women laughing and telling jokes that were accompanied by raucous, bawdy even, whoops and giggles that only women can create.
Just before 3:45 p.m., both offices were clearing out. I went to the restroom to “do myself up” a bit. I was grateful for the champagne, because if I’d been sober, I would have been a simmering wreck. I came out just after 4, revealing a glimpse of my feminine side. I unveiled my cleavage for the first time and put on my dress and shoes that were equally smart and sexy, I felt. I set off confidently on the five minutes walk to the pub.
The party was now in full swing as many were already on their second and third drinks. The noise, understandably, was raucous until the work manager arrived to give us retirees a farewell speech. However insincere farewell speeches are, it’ was still a tradition Clive and I looked forward to.
At around 5:30 p.m., many coworkers headed out, leaving a few stragglers and the first chance for Clive and I to exchange our thought on everything.
Clive’s first words to me were simply, “Diane, I apologize before I say this, but I’m struggling to look at you without wanting to get inside your knickers. You’ve blown me away and given me feelings that I thought had long gone.”
I looked at him and smiled, “I’ve been wanting to hear you say that for a long time. I’ve even dreamt of you fucking me, imagining us exploring each other’s bodies hours at a time.”
They both looked into each other’s eyes, full of lust and anticipated pleasure. Clive made a phone call saying that he’d had a few too many and was staying overnight as the pub did overnight stays also. I did the same.
There was no need to speak, what we were both experiencing was the culmination of trust, friendship, lust and, right now, love.
“Diane, I want to take you upstairs – Room 8 – and want to fuck you all night, every angle. I’m giving you at least a foot, head and all over body massage before going down on you for as long as it takes – are you okay with that?”
“Yes, Clive, but on one condition – we meet up in a different hotel every couple of months to do a repeat run. Do have we a deal?”
“Yes, we have so much to look forward to. Deal, Diane.”
We’d both would be nervous, have performance issues and body image doubts, but we quickly realized that the trust, honesty and genuine friendship we’d built would allow us to enjoy one another for so much longer.
