- Judy, 74, and Alex, 74, have been together for 30 years and say living apart keeps their relationship strong
- They have separate homes, finances and routines – and they wouldn’t have it any other way
- The couple say living apart has helped them build a happy, lasting relationship while still being there for each other when it matters most
Here Judy Wolff, 74, Dandenong Ranges, Vic tells her own story in her own words
Clapping in time with the music, I broke into applause as the folk band finished the song.
Aged 44, I’d gone along to the local folk music club. I’d never been before, but I was looking for interesting ways to fill my Friday nights when my son Rob, then 11, and daughter Luth, eight, were with their father.
We’d recently split after 13 years of marriage.
‘If you enjoyed the music, I’d be happy to bring you some recordings of my favourites,’ said a man who introduced himself as Alex, then 44.
‘If you come along next month, I’ll put my phone number on the cassette,’ he said.
Oh my, he’s flirting with me! I realised.
Flattered but not looking for a new relationship, I turned him down.
‘I don’t need your phone number. I won’t be calling you,’ I replied, honestly.
Juggling raising the kids with work as a librarian at the Ferntree Gully Library, I didn’t have time to date.
But at my next library shift on Wednesday evening, there was Alex sitting in the corner reading the paper.
I smiled in his direction, but he didn’t come over.
I’d see him around at the Folk Music Club, and he’d show up at the library every Wednesday, however it was 12 months before we spoke again.
By then, I felt ready to at least make a new friend, so when he asked me to a performance by singer Kavisha Mazzella in Melbourne, I agreed.
The music was wonderful, and Alex’s company felt natural and easy. Chatty, warm and outgoing, he balanced out my more reserved nature. By the end of the night, I had a soft spot for him.
‘Thank you for a wonderful evening,’ I said.
‘You’re very welcome. I’d love to take you out again,’ he replied, pulling me in for a hug.
We began to see each other regularly, around kids and work.
I learned that Alex was also single after the end of a long-term relationship and lived just 10 minutes from my home in Upwey.
That same year, Alex took me and the kids to a folk musical festival.
They all got on well, and that was a huge relief.
There was no big declaration of love, just a growing of trust, then loyalty and care.
After two years together, I asked Alex if we should think about living together.
‘We could save on utilities,’ I offered.
But the more we spoke, the more we realised it wasn’t what we wanted as a couple.
I’d spent years working hard to own my home.
I had hung every artwork, painted the walls and knew each scuff and mark like they were freckles on my skin.
It was my sanctuary, and I had a relationship with my home as much as with Alex. And I wasn’t ready to give that up.
‘It’s important to have your own roots,’ Alex agreed, content with his small practical brick home close to the train station in Ferntree Gully.
‘Besides, I’m so tidy and ordered I’d get on your nerves,’ he laughed.
So we decided to stay as we were.
Over the years, there were opportunities to move in together – such as when Rob moved out in 2015 and Luth in 2023, but it never felt right.
We’re different in just about every way. Alex is always upbeat, whereas I’m a bit more pensive and pedantic. He’s always got some hobby on the go, which I love. And he’s a great chatter, which can drive me nuts sometimes!
But he can talk to anyone, about anything, and he’s encouraged me to be more social and to join groups and clubs. He’s brought me out of my shell.
I think our differences compliment us.
To this day, we maintain our own houses, finances and routines.
But living apart doesn’t mean we have separate lives – we always make time for one another. We’re intentional with the time we spend together, each marking down dinners with friends, hobbies and date nights in our calendars.
Alex is active in multiple choirs and has been hand-building ceramics for 35 years.
Now retired, I keep busy with circus classes three times a week. On the way home I always drop by Alex’s for dinner, a coffee or I’ll stay the night.
And when we are apart, he calls me at 9am daily without fail.
‘Good morning!’ he’ll cry, forever energised.
‘I’m alive,’ I joke, but in my heart, it means the world he calls to check on me each day.
We’ve had different reactions from people over time when we tell them we live apart. More conservative people can’t understand why we’d do it.
‘How does that work?’ they’ll ask.
Others are envious.
‘I wish I could do that with my hubby. I’d move out in a heartbeat!’ some say.
But living apart hasn’t meant we aren’t there for each other when it matters. When Alex had two open heart surgeries 20 years ago, I nursed him back to health.
And when I needed a hip replacement last year, I moved into Alex’s home for six weeks while I recovered.
I was so grateful to have his help and support, and equally so to return home afterwards. As was Alex, 74, to have his home back!
We’ve been together for 30 years now, and I can’t see us changing our ways.
They say home is where the heart is, and that couldn’t be more true.
I just happen to also have a piece of my heart 10 minutes down the road!
Alex and Judy shared their story in SBS ‘Insight: Love Later in Life’. To watch, visit sbs.com.au/news/insight
Did you know?
Australian Government data suggests that seven to nine percent of people aren’t living with their partner.
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