Can someone rewrite Sleeping Beauty so that she opens a Lifetime Isa instead of sleeping?

There’s a gap in the dating app market I’m surprised no one’s spotted. “Desperate, divorced middle-aged woman seeks rich man to pay for everything dot com.” Don’t type that into your URL, it’s a joke. At least, I think it’s a joke; I am beginning to question how society views single, divorced women my age.

Since separating in mid-life, one of the most asked questions – from friends, family and more especially chance encounters with strangers – is around my current and future relationship aspirations. Do I have plans to remarry? Am I looking for a long-term relationship? Do I want to live with someone again? Gah. Sure. 100 per cent guaranteed, no questions asked. I’ll buy another long dress. Here comes the bride mark two.

There appears to be a widely held notion (societal, cultural, my own internalised misogyny – but who the hell really knows?) that if I am to survive the second chapter of my life, a man is going to have to save me (read: pay for me). As casually as discussing the weather, even a female lawyer (not mine), during a particularly tense discussion about money, casually dropped the “you might even get married again” bombshell. What was she trying to say, exactly? Was it a clumsy attempt to comfort me?

I’ve refused to converse with her ever since. For your information, no, I’m not counting on a second marriage to fund my life. Generations of women before me may have had less choice, but I do. I’ve always worked. I’m a writer. And I’ll still be writing at 70. Here’s hoping my bedsit has a nice view and room for a desk.

In fairy tales, conversations with girls at school, at home, in magazines – there was no mention of women and finance, unless I missed it? I mean, please can someone rewrite Sleeping Beauty? Perhaps instead of falling asleep, she opens a Lifetime Isa and a pension plan? Worrying about my financial future just didn’t cross my mind; I can’t explain it better than this: when it comes to money, I’ve clearly been in a deep, dark sleep and my knight in shining armour must have fallen off his horse somewhere near the big Tesco on the roundabout by the dual carriageway.

We’ve been sold a dud ’un, gals, and we didn’t see it coming. I am over-generalising to make a point: astute, money-savvy women independently secure in their financial futures do exist, – many, many millions of them.

And not all women have been wearing huge financial blinkers. Not all women have been emotionally and financially crippled by their divorces. Not all women didn’t think to save for a rainy day. But as far as I can tell, they are not the norm. Many women simply do not talk about money. They don’t talk about how to save it, what a pension might look like, and they definitely don’t talk about contingency plans in case of divorce.

Money was never discussed in my household. No financially focused conversations were held at my school; nor with my parents, my husband, or with my friends. Is it really my fault that I’ve been naive when it comes to my financial future?

Since the dawn of the new year, I’ve realised how ill-equipped I am when it comes to planning my financial future. And, of course, it wouldn’t be a real-life worry unless it was shared on Instagram, which is why last week I posted a short video of myself lamenting the fallout of my divorce, and all things women and money. A short video that Instagram deleted automatically within 24 hours.

I couldn’t believe how many responses I received. When it comes to women and finances, it’s clear I am not alone in my panic about the future. So, what are we going to do about it?

Opens laptop, logs on to “desperate, divorced middle-aged woman seeks rich man to pay for everything dot com”…

Regret and a sprinkling of shame; what a cocktail of emotions I felt as I realised I’d inadvertently turned a blind eye on my financial security. Is it even possible to have a fresh financial start at almost 50? If you value your mental health, I don’t advise asking Dr Google, unless you fancy checking yourself into A&E for high blood pressure this evening. Ask an expert instead.

I asked three female financial experts, women working with women going through not just divorce, but all that life throws our way. “We think money is a taboo subject,” messaged Ceri Griffiths, a financial planner specialising in divorce, otherwise known as @willowbrookfinancialplanning on Instagram. A big believer in money being discussed openly over the dinner table, preferably with children present, Griffiths is a “huge, huge believer in pensions”. Whoopsie.

“No matter how uninterested one of you might be in managing money, allowing one partner to control all the joint finances is bad for both of you,” she says. She makes a good point, and as much as I regret not listening to the guys in grey suits, the men (always men) who’d occasionally visit whichever fashion office I happened to be working for at the time to discuss pension plans, I regret more not discussing money openly at home.

Lottie Kent is a divorce specialist financial planner, not a solicitor (@divorcefinancialplanner on Instagram). For a flat fee, she helps women structure financial settlements in the most “tax-efficient and cost-effective way”. Is it too late to start again, I ask over email? “It’s 100 per cent possible – divorce is not the end, it is the start of a new life.”

Armed with information from pensions to lifestyle requirements, Kent, who runs True Financial Design, uses a method she calls “visualise your future”. If only I’d met her two decades ago, perhaps I wouldn’t be in this panic.

I moved to London intending to work for fashion magazines but couldn’t quite afford the never-ending, non-paying internships. Without the Bank of Mum and Dad, London is an expensive city to survive in, never mind make a start in a mind-blowingly competitive career. In a nutshell, I’ve never quite had the opportunity to build a nest egg. And if I could do it all again differently, I would. I’d make a plan much earlier on in life; actually, if I could do it all again, I’d train to be a divorce lawyer.

Jokes aside, though, what’s my plan? Lisa Conway-Hughes from Westminster Wealth suggests I need to be “flexible or learn to look at things from a different perspective – perhaps you can still travel the world,” she says, “but maybe you will have to downsize, or rent your house out while you are away, for example. It’s so important to rebuild your life financially after divorce with a plan so you know what you need to do each year to achieve your goals.”

Or perhaps I’ll work until the day I die and never go on holiday again? A financial rude awakening, but at least my eyes are wide open. As for my daughter, she doesn’t yet know it but she’s opening a pension as soon as she turns 18. No more unhelpful fairy tales in this household, which reminds me: I wonder if my knight ever found his way back from Tesco?


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