Everybody thought we had the perfect marriage. And on the surface, we did. My husband was a good, solid family man and we had happily raised two wonderful children together.

But as we made polite conversation in the hotel restaurant overlooking Lake Garda in Italy, where we had come for a weekend break, I realised we had grown miles apart.

I watched spellbound as, at the next table, a woman my age had an intense conversation with her partner. She was pouring her heart out to him, while he listened to her intently.

Suddenly, dramatically, she broke down in tears. Her partner didn’t say a word. Instead, he picked up his chair and moved it around to be next to her, and just held her, silently, until her sobs subsided.

That was my ‘light bulb moment’, the moment when I realised what I was yearning for — and wasn’t getting: that deep intimacy, without words, as natural as breathing. I was in my late 40s and I still had dreams and passions and wanted a deep emotional connection with a man who shared them. I was lonely and unsatisfied. It was to prove the catalyst for the beginning of the end of my 22-year marriage.

Avivah Wittenberg-Cox (pictured) shared why she believes having relationships with different people at different times of your life will become increasingly common

Today, a decade on, I am 56 and married to Tim, who is my ‘late love’ — my soulmate and the man with whom I will hopefully grow old. I have never been happier.

Many other women are experiencing this flowering of late love, too. While life is long, and getting longer, relationships don’t always last the distance. We are always growing and changing, and our relationships need to grow and change too, or they will fail. Some couples manage to achieve this together, but it takes effort and will from both partners.

Many couples, like my first husband and I, can’t make it work. That’s why I believe that in the future, having different partners for different parts of your life is likely to become increasingly common.

The anthropologist Margaret Mead said that there are three different loves in one’s life: the first, with whom you discover passion and sex; the second, with whom you settle down and parent children; and the third, who is your soulmate for your mature years. If you are very lucky, you may find all these three loves in the same person, although most of us experience at least the first two.

I had always thought it was just a good theory — until it actually happened to me. I realised Mead had described my life before I’d lived it!

I’ve come to realise that being a ‘mature’ woman does not mean you need to put up with being unhappy, or that you must give up on love. We are all living so much longer than in the past — we don’t die shortly after retirement any more — and women are more financially empowered. So we can walk away if we choose to.

And many women do. While both marriage and divorce rates are falling in general, especially among graduates, there is a peak of divorces and remarriages in the second half of life, as people yearn for something better before it’s too late. And in the UK and U.S., in two-thirds of cases it is the woman who files for divorce.

Some people will always paint the ‘leaver’ as a villain, whatever the circumstances. But given that many people are now living to almost 100, wouldn’t it be a good idea if we could make love contracts that were renewable, perhaps every 20 years or so?

I believe strongly in commitment, co-parenting and responsibility. But once the children have grown up, perhaps it’s time to re-evaluate, to recommit and to redesign our relationships.

Avivah decided to leave her marriage of 22 years after she began drifting apart from her husband. She claims she wanted to set an example of being in a loving relationship

After all, we accept the idea of lifelong learning, new careers and transformation in the workplace. We accept that nobody has a job for life any more. Perhaps it’s time to accept it at home as well.

We shouldn’t take it for granted that our relationship will stay the same, or that our partner will stay with us without having to pay too much attention to them. A renewal clause might keep people on their toes and make marriages more fulfilling.

Everyone accepts their first, youthful love may not be the best match when it comes to having children. So why can’t we accept that the father of your children may not be the kindred spirit with whom you dream of spending the next 30 (or more) years once the children move on? Why does moving from your second to your third love have to be so traumatic?

For me, it was the hardest and most frightening thing I’ve ever done. My ex-husband couldn’t understand or accept my decision, and it was a very painful time for everyone. He had just assumed we would carry on for ever as we were, even though I had told him countless times that I was unhappy.

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I lost some friends, too, who couldn’t accept that the picture-perfect relationship they’d perceived didn’t really exist.

But the security of a long marriage doesn’t work for everyone. It’s a bit like academic tenure: for some it gives the freedom to be daring and express themselves; for others, it gives them an excuse to avoid, to coast, to be complacent.

We need to find a new narrative for what is normal in a lifetime when it comes to relationships. For some, ‘till death do us part’ works; for many it doesn’t. For me, it is instead a matter of ‘grow or go’. If your relationship is not giving you what you need, why should you just accept it?

There have only been three men in my life, each of them perfect for the experiences we shared. I met my first love, a Frenchman, in Paris while I was studying there. Archetypally tall, dark and handsome, he was also charming, kind and creative, and everything a first love should be: passionate, a good dancer, a tender lover. I was madly in love with him.

But after two years of dating, I was offered a job in Brussels and he didn’t want to come with me. Seven years older than me, he was ready to settle down and have children, and I, at 24, wasn’t. So our relationship came to a natural end.

Avivah Wittenberg-Cox’s Late Love will be published on February 14

Next came my first husband, the father of my children, and a marriage that was very loving and peaceful for 22 years. I met him in Brussels when we both worked there, and we eventually moved to Paris together. He was a very good man and we had a lot in common, similar interests and family values.

When I met him I was ready to settle down and I could sense that he would be a devoted husband and father. I was right. We had a very contented marriage and raised two adorable children together.

But, over the years, we started to grow apart. I felt we risked turning into his uncommunicative parents and, while he didn’t seem to mind, I just really wanted to have more depth to my relationship.

After our weekend away in Lake Garda, I remained unhappy for several years before doing anything about it.

Then there was another ‘light bulb’ moment, when we were sitting having brunch one day, and I was trying to talk about something deeper than we usually did.

I noticed he was barely listening, even though what I was saying was important to me. Then, to my amazement, he just got up from the table and walked off. That hurt so much, it made me realise I couldn’t do it any more.

A few days later, a friend called me to say he was having a party to celebrate his 30th wedding anniversary. I said, ‘Wow! Congratulations. How did you do it?’ And he answered, cynically: ‘Lack of courage.’ I was adamant I didn’t want to be like my friend, unhappy in another ten years, just because I was too scared to walk away.

I knew then that I had to make the leap, but it wasn’t simple. How would I tell my husband and the two children, one of whom was still at home and at school? Where would I go?

I felt that as a mother, it was one of my prime responsibilities to be a good role model on how to live lovingly and truthfully.

Avivah turned to her friend Tim of 25 years after leaving her first husband. They married two years ago

In particular, I wanted to teach them that if they are in relationships where love has died, they can leave well, act responsibly and find happiness again. And also, yes, to understand that once the children are grown up, parents are allowed to revisit whether their relationship still nourishes the two humans left.

It’s not putting yourself first, it’s realising that you will contribute your best to the world, and to everyone you care about, if you are loved and loving.

What of the men left behind? They are not discarded. I am still very friendly with my ex, and had dinner with him recently. One of the reasons I left was that I did not think I was particularly good for him, nor did I make him happy. I truly hope that he finds someone who loves him better than I could, and that we will be good friends and co-parents for the rest of our lives.

I finally took the decision to end my 22-year marriage in January 2011, the year I turned 50. The first person I told, in a long email message, was my friend Tim, whom I had known for 25 years.

Over the New Year weekend, he had stayed at our home with some other friends. He had showed us photos of sculptures he’d carved, of women and abstracts. Then he showed us pictures of the home he’d renovated and of his great passion, his old steamboat.

As I heard him talk about his life, something clicked inside me. l had never before thought of him as anything other than a good friend, but now I realised that he was everything I wanted in a man. Tim had never married, and I had often tried to set him up with girlfriends, but the relationships hadn’t worked out.

I had absolutely no idea if he felt the same way about me, but I had to take the chance.

In my letter, I told him that my New Year resolution was to become more vulnerable. I told him I was leaving my husband. Then I admitted that I had feelings for him.

‘Listen,’ I said, ‘I’m cringing at every line that I’m writing, and I’m going to do it anyway; so, I’m throwing myself on your mercy. All I want is a yes or no. I have no idea where this is going to go, but if you would like to have dinner, I’m in London next month.’

I fully expected never to hear from him again. A few hours later, he replied saying that he was shellshocked, but ‘the heart is not untouched’ and that he would get back to me when he’d had some time to think.

After that, I moved into a separate bedroom from my husband, and started the process of ending my marriage. Tim and I began an email correspondence, getting to know each other more deeply.

We did meet up for dinner when I went to London. And when I finally moved out of the marital home, a few months later, we began a proper relationship. Eventually, I moved to London to live with him. Seven years on, we couldn’t be happier.

I may not have had relationships with many men, but I have been blessed with relationships with the right men, at the right time. I am deeply grateful to all of them.

Tim and I got married two years ago. My son gave a toast to my new husband at the wedding and it was one of the most touching moments of my life. I learned children are happy when they see their parents happy, and it was a crucial lesson for them, too.

As for Tim and me, we are still blissfully content. I love everything about him, even his weaknesses. He makes me feel like I can be myself for the first time, that I can be totally honest without ever walking on eggshells.

Our relationship has been a meeting of minds, hearts and bodies. Recently, we started rock ’n’ roll dancing together. I like to joke that we’ve found a joint passion we’re both really bad at! And we celebrate January 3, the day I sent him that email, every year. It was the email that led me to my third love.

Avivah Wittenberg-Cox’s Late Love will be published by Motivational Press on February 14.

Interview by Hilary Freeman

Did you leave a long marriage for a last romance? Do you wish you’d stayed? Email femailreaders@dailymail.co.uk