My Dream Vacation Was Always ‘Next Year’ – Until My Husband Told Me I Was ‘Too Old’ to Enjoy It

My Husband Postponed My Dream Vacation for Years – Then Told Me I Was ‘Too Old’ for It Now

Deb has had one desire for a long time: taking a fantastic trip to Greece. Dan, her spouse, nevertheless, keeps putting things off. Deb takes matters into her own hands when she is well into her 60s and utilizes all of the money she has accumulated to take her vacation. But will Dan still be there when she returns?

Ever since I can remember, Greece has always been my ideal travel destination. While on vacation, I could see myself strolling around the ruins of Athens, or watching the sun set over the whitewashed cliffs of Santorini as the evening light dances across them.

Pretty, huh?

The only thing that got me through life’s grind, the innumerable sacrifices, and the never-ending pressure of labor was that goal. After years of holding it together, Greece was my prize and my escape.

I thus began to save. Every spare dime I had went into a small fund, stashed aside for the trip I’d told myself I would take someday. My straightforward objective was to save as much money as I could and, after I achieved my target, to take my spouse, Dan, on this amazing trip. After years of marriage, I had always been honest with him about my desire for this wonderful trip.

Every year, Dan would say, “We’ll go next year, Deb,” Yes, honey, that’s what I’m all for. “All I need to do is organize our house and settle my debt, after which I can proceed.”

Initially, I trusted him. Why wouldn’t I, after all? However, when Dan began to discuss his debt more, I realized that increasing my savings for our trip was necessary if I wanted to actually go.

At the time, I worked as a private chef for two different families each week, but I started taking orders for custom cakes and desserts from individuals because I wanted to increase my income.

“Why are you overdoing it at work, Deb?” One evening, I was too weary to make dinner for Dan, so I ordered pizza.

“Dude, I just want to save money,” I uttered. “I want to get us to Greece.”

“Oh Deborah, please forgive me. He murmured, “When will you stop talking about Greece?

“When I leave, I’ll stop. Would you mind accompanying me? I enquired.

My spouse grew tolerant and offered me a drink of wine.

He said, “Of course, darling.” I apologize; I’m just under a lot of stress at work. It’s really challenging to teach arithmetic to students who don’t want to study.”

“It’s okay,” I responded, attempting to discern if he was being real.

“I promise you, Deb, I’m all for it,” he replied.

Of course, I assumed that we would collaborate to achieve it. But every time the subject was raised, Dan would utter the phrase “next year.” And there was always an excuse when “next year” rolled along.

“Work is too busy, Deb.”

“I can’t afford to take the time off.”

“The dishwasher is about to break and the geyser is broken.” Before considering a holiday, we must give that top priority.”

It’s okay, I told myself. We would finally go, after all. People would put things off for a long and then enjoy them when things finally calmed down.

However, life never quite became comfortable.

Rather, the years passed quickly and there was no talk about the trip. And I had saved up enough money for the two of us to travel by the time I was almost 65. Not only that, but I could afford five-star hotels and business-class tickets with ease.

I made the decision to stop waiting. Everything was prepared by me. A fantasy vacation of two weeks. I had only ever seen Athens, Santorini, and Mykonos in vacation magazines. I even treated myself to a new swimsuit—something I hadn’t done in a long time.

For once, I wanted to enjoy the life I had been working so hard to create and to feel good about myself.

So one night I sat Dan down. To sweeten the pot, I even prepared his favorite lamb chops and baked potatoes.

“Dan,” I started. “I have sufficient savings. Let’s celebrate my 65th birthday in Greece.”

With his fork nearly in his mouth, he looked up from his phone and gave me a fleeting glance before laughing sharply.

Greece? Deb, genuinely? At your age?” coldly he said.

My skin crawled because of the way he said it, as if I was just a stupid child who didn’t know any better. I sat there, dumbfounded, trying to figure out how the man I had been married to for twenty years could have spoken anything so hurtful.

You know, Dan, I’ve been saving for this vacation for years. We have always discussed traveling together. Together, I want to enjoy everything.”

It was all about me, and my desires. After packing my things and getting a pen, I left a message on the kitchen counter.

You’re right, Dan. I’m too old. I’m too old to waste more time waiting on someone who doesn’t give a damn. Have fun on your fishing excursion; the cost is on you.

To be honest, I didn’t care what would happen next, even if I didn’t know. I just knew I would never be able to forgive myself if I stayed. And Dan would become unbearable to me.

It was a different air, warmer and lighter. I had stopped waiting. As I strolled about the historic remnants, the past of the area swept over me like a wave. For the first time in many years, I felt liberated when I stood on a cliff in Santorini.

Naturally, I also wore the bikini I purchased. Furthermore, what do you know? I looked stunning in it. I could not care less what people thought. I was going about my business.

I met Michael on one of those beautiful nights in Santorini. He was seated by himself in a café, gazing out at the lake with a sweet smile on his face. We started chatting, and before I knew it, we were having dinner together and spending hours discussing our lives.

“A personal chef?” he questioned, arching one eyebrow. “That’s impressive.”

I answered, “I love working with my hands.” “And there’s an intimacy to cooking that I adore.”

We explored islands, drank drinks, laughed over dinners, and relished the kind of connection I hadn’t realized I was lacking for the remainder of our vacation. When Michael looked at me, he saw a woman who wanted to make a difference in her life, not someone who was “too old” or past her prime.

Dan was gone when I got home at last. He had packed and moved on. However, I discovered through a note that he had moved in with his brother.

I’m still in contact with Michael months later, eager to find out what will happen next.