In the classic film Harold and Maude, Harold, who is 20, decides to marry Maude, who is 80. His mother, a rich socialite, is mortified. She sends him to a psychiatrist, a priest, and an uncle, hoping they will convince him to change his mind. Each adviser reacts with disgust, and Harold doesn't budge. "What will people say?" his mother asks in horror.
"I don't care what people will say," he replies. "This is insane!" she shouts. Harold's beloved shares his interest in—or, more accurately, obsession with—death and funerals in a way that no one else around him does. In Harold's mind, that makes her the perfect woman despite the vast age difference between them. Sadly, Maude passes away before Harold can marry her, but, given the couple's resolve, it's easy to imagine that they could have lived happily together (for a while, anyway). Their union certainly would have been atypical according to contemporary norms that present the archetypal couple as heterosexual, young (but not too young), stably employed, close in age, and well-matched in race and other social factors. But Harold and Maude clearly didn't care what outsiders thought.
In real life, such confidence can be difficult for star-crossed lovers to achieve and maintain. When people buck conventional ideas of coupledom and partner up with someone others consider inappropriate—too old or too young, the wrong race, class, or religion—or when they structure their relationship in a way that seems unorthodox—a husband who's a stay-at-home dad, a wife with a much higher salary—the perceptions of friends, family, and strangers can threaten their happiness.
"Social norms are driven by emotions of contempt in the observer and shame in the person or people being observed," says Jon Elster, professor of social science at Columbia University. "The contempt forms when the observer is faced with something that feels wrong, whether that feeling is justified or not—and often it is not. When a couple is judged or ostracized, their marriage can be destabilized."
So how can such couples stay afloat? It takes a stubborn and rebellious personality—like Harold's—to decide to pursue an atypical relationship in the first place, and if you've got two such personalities in one couple, tensions might run high regardless of social pressure. But those character traits can also be advantageous, helping people stick to their decisions and achieve their goals.
Ultimately, if partners remember the foundation upon which they built their relationship—what attracted them to each other in the first place, how their attraction developed into love, and why they decided to seal that love with mutual commitment—they have a good chance of creating a bond that can withstand the disapproving masses.
Living Apart: Janice and Michael Edelstein
For the almost 19 years that they've been married, Michael and Janice Edelstein have had the same routine: Monday through Friday, he lives and works in San Francisco while she manages their lakefront home in Tiburon, a suburb about 40 minutes away. ("You have to cross bridges and mountains to get there," Michael says. "It feels like another world.") On Friday afternoons, he takes the bus to Tiburon and they spend the weekend together. On Sundays, she drives him back to San Francisco, they share a meal, and she returns to the suburbs. "It's not for everyone," says Michael, "but it works for Janice and me."
They developed their arrangement early on in their relationship, out of respect for their different dispositions: Janice, 69, loves the outdoors and hates San Francisco; Michael needs both city- and country-living. Also, Michael, 67, had recently moved his clinical psychology practice from New York to San Francisco and was still trying to establish himself. He frequently saw clients at night, and for him it was simply more convenient to have his office close to his living quarters.
For the most part, people around them are supportive of their unusual setup. Janice has two grown daughters from a previous marriage and two grandchildren who live nearby; she spends as much time with them as possible. (One of her daughters has staked a claim on Michael's weekend time in Tiburon; every Sunday, she goes for a run with him.) In the city, Michael regularly sees his sister, who lives within walking distance of his office. Having a network of understanding family members helps buoy their relationship, as does receiving positive feedback about their situation. "I have clients who, when I tell them about it, say that it sounds like a terrific arrangement," Michael says. "My women friends think it's sort of neat," Janice adds. "I'm pretty independent."
Nevertheless, Janice does feel indirect external pressure at times. It comes from an awareness of the couples around them and a sense that she and Michael stand a bit outside of their community. "Being able to get together as a twosome with neighbors or friends on a more spontaneous basis—that would be relaxing," she says. In addition, she sometimes wonders whether the physical distance they have from one another on the weekdays has created a less tangible distance within their relationship. "I don't doubt what we're doing," she says, "but I think we would have more challenges to overcome together if we lived together, and that that could allow us to grow together in a different way. It could make us closer."
For Michael, these are nonissues, but he does feel some tension because of Janice's concerns.
