Middle-Age Spread: Navigating relationships in Jersey when you’re over 40

Words&Illustration: Stella Six

There comes a time when the island of Jersey, once a sun-drenched playground for your saladday trysts, melts into something else entirely, like old wax on an abandoned surfboard. A surfboard which, was owned by a guy probably-calledAaron, who you got off with at the Splash in your twenties, before throwing up lemon-flavoured Hooch on his Uggs. And much like that surfboard wax, you’re older now, and you have LOST YOUR GRIP, because of a condition called ’40-Year-Old Shoulder’ which is an actual thing that you wish you hadn’t Googled. Anyway, the point is – you’re past your prime; you may have your halcyon memories, but you also have many, congealed, sticky regrets. Welcome to middle-aged dating in Jersey! Like the romantic landscape of your youth, it’s just a little bit harder and weirder than in other places. Lucky for you though, Stella Six, Jersey’s premier relationship savant, is back with a few tips to help you to navigate your way through the un-Amazin Maze of ‘mature’ island courtship.

TIP ONE:

Change Your Identity

You’re single again, maybe post-divorce, maybe even two (who’s judging? Everyone, that’s who…), and you decide, ‘why not give things another shot?’ You finally, bravely, lift your head from your tear-sodden pillow and look around at your options. It’s then you realise there are only about three eligible people left in your age-group, and you just divorced one of them. He’s now going out with someone with stupid hair who laughs at his jokes. Ha! She’ll learn soon enough that his limited repertoire doesn’t just extend to repartee. Anyway, who else? Oh. The other two used to be married to quite good friends of yours, so there is an insurmountable ick-factor. Like the 1984 film Ghostbusters, which you are sadly old enough to remember, the streams must not cross. They probably wouldn’t even be interested in your over-familiar old caboose. Or would they? Consider this – eyesight in over forties is not what it used to be. You’re probably struggling to read this very article! With a radical haircut, some strategic filler and a name change, you’d be unrecognisable! You could be the hot-new thing on the scene. Fresh meat! At the very least, you’d be able to walk down King Street without someone asking you ‘how are you coping with the divorce?’ and having to pretend you’re fine, when all you want to do is buy a prawn f*cking sandwich on your lunchbreak without crying.

TIP TWO: Recycle

So, for legal reasons, you can’t change your identity? No problem! About three months into being newly single, because you live in Jersey, you will soon bump into all of your exes; like the now-slightly-fat ghosts of relationships past. This is what is known as ‘The Christmas Carol Phenomenon’. I think, you’re supposed to learn some sort of important life lesson about the value of existence or something, but what you can also do, is consider recycling. Were they all THAT bad? I mean sure, Aaron wore Uggs, (actually let’s cross him off the list, not sure he’s over the puking thing anyway), but what about Calum, or Liam, or Darren etc? They were all fun weren’t they! Lads, lads, lads! A quick diddly-doop on Facebook will now reveal that they’ve all died. This will feel a little shocking initially - like, how old AM I? But that’s okay, because at least it means you don’t have to go back out with any of those losers. Your shoulder will be hurting now, so it’s time to step away from the computer. Instead, go and dig out the old sleeping bag from that camping trip with your ex-husband – the one the Relate therapist described as ‘the final straw’ - and stuff it with old JEPs. Now, get one of your ex-husband’s old ties, which apparently, he didn’t need in his ‘new life’, and form a garrotte. Slip that over the foot-end of the sleeping bag and pull it tightly to form a ‘head’. Take some lipstick, and another swig of your wine (sorry, I should have mentioned that – you should be very drunk, although I think that was implied?), and draw a little face on it. Tada! Now you have a boyfriend.

TIP THREE: Expand Your Horizons

If neither of the first two tips appeal to you, you can always try online dating. This will, however, involve finding a travel budget so that you can leave the island to meet people from elsewhere. If you try to date online AND on-island, you will immediately have a nervous breakdown. Here’s why. Firstly, you’ll have to post a TRUTHFUL profile description, because everyone already knows you. There is no use pretending you’re well-read, or into yoga, or whatever. Same goes for pics – forget adding a filter. You’ve already been seen by the whole island IRL (In Real Life), hungover, buying ten bags of mini-cheddars under strip-lighting in what used to be Checkers. What I’m saying is, there is no point putting your best foot forward, because everyone has already seen your disgusting foot. Equally, don’t be seduced by other Jersey profiles like ‘sunset-loving Peter from St Ouen’. A few clicks will reveal that ‘Peter’ is actually Pete, the guy you used to work with at Grey Trust Co, who went on endlessly about his skirting board renovations and how good he is at making ramen. If you must swipe right, swipe right OFF-ISLAND, and limit your location settings to areas with reasonably priced flights – we’re talking Gatwick, or Glasgow, or, I guess Luton. Also remember, everyone keeps saying ‘there’s a boat in the morning’. That might not always be true due to Condor’s cancellation policy, but still, metaphorically, it is true. You do not have to settle for someone your friend has slept with, someone you have slept with, or a sleeping bag you have slept in. You can meet other people, in other places, who will get how special you are. And if they don’t, you never, ever have to see them again. Ever.

Jersey’s relationship expert and dating historian Stella Six now lives in Brighton with her current and hopefully final husband; a vaudeville performer of some notoriety.

Zara Palmer Watkinson, our High Maintenance Women, wrote her observational column and ‘Eye Spy’ for ten years. In this edition, she looks back from the future, giving us advice on what to expect when Gallery is 40...

high-mAIntenance-woman

Well here I am—typing. With my actual fingers. Can you imagine? It’s been so long since I’ve touched a keyboard that I can barely remember where the letters are. But I daren’t risk using LUNA to dictate this. No, if I let her in on this little nostalgia trip, my ratings would plummet faster than Fort Regent did in the Great Sinkhole of 2038. Heaven forbid I should sound negative—my social wellness score couldn’t take the hit.

You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to actually type after years of just voice-noting everything. In 2044, we’ve all moved on to LUNA, who not only dictates but also corrects your tone to make sure you stay eternally positive. A bit flat today, Zara? Why not try rephrasing that with a gratitude lens? Oh yes, because being upbeat is now a legal requirement, especially as the ruling class is made up of socially-conscious Gen Z ‘thought leaders’. Gone are the grey-haired ministers of old; now we have ex-vloggers and environmental activists running the show. Politicians? No, they’re content creators with public office, posting their policy updates in #aesthetic carousels.

Of course, they’ve brought their favourite buzzwords with them—everything must be sustainable, inclusive and mindfully crafted. Ethical capitalism rules the island, with fast fashion banned and taxes slapped on anything non-biodegradable. Even the government’s new housing policy is zero-waste—every new flat is made from recycled TikTok content (or at least that’s what I think they said in their live-streamed press conferences).

Oh let’s not forget all the self-care laws they’ve implemented. I used to love a spa day, but in 2044? It’s wellness overload. Everyone is mandated to take a minimum of two mental health days a month (or risk a hefty fine), and your therapy bills are tax-deductible. Skip your weekly meditation, and your wellness score will tank, which now affects everything from your ability to book a table at Pêtchi Dunes to your tax band. After all, how can anyone be productive without a personalised ASMR session and a face mask?

And speaking of productivity, the traditional 9-to-5 is ancient history. Everyone’s a freelancer now —or a multihyphenate if you’re really on vibe. Ministers? They’re patching into the States Assembly from eco-pods, drafting policies between running their side hustles, usually some combination of NFT art, kombucha brewing, and selling digital detox retreats in the metaverse.

Anyway, back to nostalgia. Remember real lattes with frothy cow’s milk? Now it’s seaweed lattes or nothing. Cow’s milk is practically illegal—taxed so high you’d need a hedge fund to afford it, and we’re left sipping green sludge that tastes like you’ve licked the inside of a rockpool. It’s all terribly eco-friendly, but where’s the indulgence?

And shoes. Forget Louboutins. Now we’re all gliding around in HoverOn-Clouds, floating over the (Sin)King Street canals in total silence. Practical? Yes. Empowering? Absolutely not. No one feels fierce in a pair of eco-slippers.

Meanwhile, Jersey’s agricultural economy has… well, sunk, quite literally. Who needs cows when you can farm kelp? Now Jersey’s all about seaweed farming - acres and acres of floating algae farms bobbing where St Ouen’s beach used to be. It’s all terribly sustainable, but you can’t pretend you don’t miss Jersey Royals from a roadside honesty stall.

And shoes. Forget

As for Gen Alpha, where do I even begin? Whose genius idea was it to name an entire generation Alpha? Oh right, that was us. And didn’t they just lean into it. While Gen Z is busy with ‘mindful living’ Alphas are upgrading their neural microchips and rolling their eyes at us. “Wait, you typed with your hands?” they ask, smirking on their AI hoverboards. “How… retro.” Gen Z hosts wellness retreats, Alpha’s out there building virtual empires, probably redesigning Jersey while we meditate ourselves into oblivion.

But here I am, typing away in my little AI-free corner, remembering the glorious messiness of life before the world got optimised to within an inch of its life. Because sometimes, darling, chaos is where the real magic happens.

We had Project Trident students at Gallery for over a decade, vying with The Animal Shelter as the most popular place a 16 year old wanted to spend their designated two weeks in the working world. With a lot of the Gallery team caught up having kids of our own and the whole homeworking thing, it’s meant that it’s been a while since we’ve been able to inspire young minds in this way. With a milestone 20th Birthday coming up, we tracked down some of our Gallery alumni to see what they’ve been doing since we set them out on interviews and coffee runs...

We managed to track down some on-island and caught up with others around the world. We did four Trident placements a year and didn’t retain all our feedback sheets but we managed to get hold of quite a few! Over the next four pages we learn about their lives and get a few bits of feedback. What a creative, inspiring and worldly bunch they’ve become. Go team!