I’m 65 and I can’t stand having people over
People might judge me, but I don’t care what they think. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I dislike people or my friends—not at all. I just can’t stand having anyone cross the threshold of my home. I’m happy to meet up anywhere—whether it’s in the park, outside, or at someone else’s place—just not at mine. I’ve had enough, and that’s final.
Since turning 65, everything’s changed. Just a couple of years ago, I was eager to open my home in a small village near Manchester to anyone. Now, the mere thought of guests fills me with dread and irritation. After the last get-together, it took me two days to clean my house as if a hurricane had swept through. Before that, I spent a whole day cooking mountains of food, then two more tackling the mess. Why should I put myself through that? I no longer want to spend my life this way.
I think back to how it used to be, and it fills me with both nostalgia and exhaustion. A week before guests were due, I’d start a thorough clean—washing windows, scrubbing floors, tidying every corner. Then I’d rack my brain deciding what to serve to keep everyone happy. Those heavy grocery bags! I’d lug them up to the top floor, puffing and cursing the entire world. And then the guests would arrive, and it would all begin. Attending to everyone, ensuring plates weren’t empty, making sure there was enough for all and everything was immaculate. It was non-stop—bring, take away, serve, clean—you end up being the cook, the waitress, the dishwasher, and the cleaner all in one. My feet would ache, my back would throb, and I’d never get a chance to sit and chat calmly because someone always needed something.
And for what? To collapse from exhaustion, staring at a wrecked kitchen? I’ve had enough. Why torture myself when there are people you can pay to do it all better and faster? Now, every celebration, meeting, or gathering takes place in cafes or restaurants. It’s cheaper, less hassle, and far less draining. After dinner, there’s nothing to wash, clean, or clear away—you just head home, crawl into bed, and sleep with a clear conscience.
Now I’m all for living actively, not cooped up within four walls. We already spend too much time at home as it is. Socializing outside with friends is rare, almost a luxury. Everyone has jobs, commitments—who has the time to just sit around? I’ve realized: I spent my life toiling for my family, for others. Now I want to live for myself, for my peace.
I’ve developed a new habit: during my lunch break, I call my friend Nina, and we head to a nearby café with desserts so delicious you could lick your fingers. Why didn’t I do this before? I’m amazed at myself—at how many years I’ve lost, trapping myself in a domestic routine!
I believe every woman can relate. The mere thought of hosting guests at home brings on a headache: what to cook, how to clean, what to do that’ll impress? It’s no joy; it’s punishment. Of course, if a friend drops by for a quick chat, I won’t turn her away—I’ll make tea, and we’ll chat. But it’s better to make plans and meet in a cozy coffee shop. That’s become my lifeline, my little joy.
To all the women out there, I’ll say this: don’t fear spending loads in a restaurant. You’ll spend more at home—not only pounds but also nerves and health. I calculated it—on groceries, cleaning, and the time that vanishes into thin air—it’s more expensive than the bill at a café. Most importantly, you preserve yourself. At 65, I’ve finally understood that life isn’t just about duty to others but also about the right to rest, to ease, to freedom from other people’s plates and expectations. And I’m not going to open my door to anyone wanting to turn my home into a battlefield for cleanliness and order anymore. Enough’s enough.
