Multi award winning editor, broadcaster and writer Jo Elvin on taking holidays without her husband – and why being ‘selfish’ needs a positive respin.
‘My husband would rather peel off his skin than join me on a wellness break’
My husband, Ross and I both love dogs, wine, our daughter, even each other. We love spending time with friends who make us laugh. We both love horror films, the darker the better. And we prefer staying in to going out. But we do have our differences. He loves video games and films featuring a lot of explosions – and usually starring Jason Statham – both of which leave me unmoved. He does not share my love of west end musicals or Kpop concerts. ‘Take a gay,’ he will beg, if I ever buy tickets to either.
I like this about us. I don’t think you can last 30+ years in a marriage without letting the other’s personality breathe and flex. We both laugh a lot at the very dark joke comedian Chris Rock tells, about couples who know each other so completely that one of them needs to get themselves kidnapped, ‘so you’ve got something new to talk about.’
I have a slightly less extreme suggestion: A little solo holiday, from time to time. Ross would rather peel his own skin off than join me on an exercise break in Spain, or a wellness reset in the Austrian Alps. So instead of dragging him to his idea of hell, or denying myself my heaven, I go on my own. As younger marrieds, I think we really did believe that it was like… the law, that couples must do all things together. But as wiser old beans, we realise that a successful marriage actually thrives on these mini breaks from each other. Don’t get me wrong, we do love holidaying together. I wouldn’t dream of going to the Maldives without him. Beach holidays are our thing. We had a wonderful time in Oslo last summer with our daughter, although the three of us will freely admit that considerable time was lost to arguments about what the day’s activity would be, or which restaurants could satisfy a vegetarian, a vegan and a gluten-intolerant.
Which brings me to the thing about a solo holiday that is probably the greater joy than any golden sandy beach: That virtually unheard-of phenomenon of thinking only of oneself. It cannot be over-estimated, particularly for women. We’re so used to the constant buzz of everyone else’s demands rattling around our heads, be it the kids, the boss, the husband, the parents, the school, the bloody school WhatsApp group. Most of us have genuinely forgotten what it feels like to ever dare to think simply about what we might want. And so, the result is that when you’re travelling alone, even the most perfunctory moments become ridiculously thrilling: waking up from sleep unbroken by anyone’s snoring or 3am loo trip; star fishing the bed; breakfasting – or not – exactly when you want to. You can soak up all the highbrow art gallery culture your heart desires, without having to pretend you can’t see the teen’s eyerolling. Or maybe, you just want to see if there’s anything different about a foreign branch of Zara, free of any of the usual spousal snarking. What do you want to do? At first, it feels so weird and wrong to even ask yourself the question. But you get the hang of it.
Some – perhaps even you and your own, judgey inner voice – might frame this as selfish. So self-indulgent. But I reserve the right to invoke the ‘fit your oxygen mask first’ philosophy. ‘Selfish’ needs a rebrand because it’s vital. And not just for you, but everyone in your orbit who needs you. That precious few days of ‘self-indulgence’ will have the effect of returning you to your loved ones in a fully recharged state. You’ll be so happy to see them. And they will no doubt have a renewed appreciation for how much work you do around here missed you. You will be the happiest, most relaxed, best version of you. Which, when you think about it, is a nobly selfless bonus of putting yourself first. Just for once.
And you will have plenty of that promised new stuff to talk about, no fake kidnappings required.
