Next Life, No Men: Chapter 18 Summary, Themes, and Analysis

⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This guide contains detailed spoilers for the entire novel. Proceed only if you've finished reading or are comfortable knowing the plot.

Summary

The chapter opens with Jen and the Hubs at a rare lunch date, just the two of them. Instead of feeling romantic, Jen finds herself watching her husband eat — mixing his food into a gelatinous mess and scooping it into his mouth — and the thought that crosses her mind is: next life, no men. She tries to recall the early days when his quirks seemed cute, but instead she flashes back to that morning’s toothbrushing scene. The Hubs uses an electric toothbrush, and between the buzzing and the suds, he tries to carry on a conversation with her, spraying toothpaste onto the mirror and counter. When she finally gets him to finish, the urgent question he needed to ask was whether she checked the mail the day before.

Jen reflects on the reality of their shared life. They both work from home and share a basement office, making each other their only daily companion. She has no work spouse to complain to about her real husband. When she shares her “next life, no men” theory with friends, reactions split — some call her an unkind wife, others call her a saint for what she tolerates.

The chapter then introduces her friend Constance, who doesn’t work outside the home. Constance’s husband controls the finances entirely: she must submit every receipt at month’s end, justify every purchase from groceries to a coffee with Jen, and reimburse “the family” from her allowance if he disapproves. He recently docked her ten dollars for overpaying on groceries. Jen is outraged on Constance’s behalf, imagining throwing his belongings on the lawn. But Constance fires back that Jen’s husband only takes her out to dinner when he has a coupon. Jen realizes they’re both thinking the same thing about each other’s husbands — and that this mutual tolerance is actually the real test of compatibility.

Jen imagines what their vows would look like if written today. The Hubs’s vows would promise to leave the thermostat alone, never raise an eyebrow at second helpings of dessert, pay bills on time, and always say no when she asks if she looks older than other women. Her vows would promise to leave the thermostat at sixty-eight in winter and wear layers, eat only at coupon-friendly restaurants, brake slowly to preserve the brake pads, and let him choose all the technology.

The Hubs notices she’s lost in thought and asks what she’s thinking. Without filtering herself, she blurts out that marriage is so hard and that if she ever found herself single again, she wouldn’t remarry. He’s shocked and hurt — he stops eating, which Jen recognizes as a terrible sign. She tries to explain that she meant it as a compliment: she loves him and chooses to be married to him every day, putting up with his shit just as he puts up with hers. But he doesn’t understand, and the rest of lunch passes in silence. When they get home, they retreat to different floors of the house.

Jen reflects on their similarities — the same dark humor, no filter, both “boring as hell,” a shared love of Target as date night, hating the same people — and their differences. They come from different cultures and upbringings and have worked hard to align their parenting and relationship goals. The Hubs would be happiest if Jen were his only friend, wanting to spend all day together, but she craves alone time and often begs to go to the grocery store just to be by herself. She admits she’s selfish and a “bossy bitch” who struggles with compromise.

The chapter includes a fight about the dishwasher. The Hubs unloaded it but left random items — spatulas, baking sheets, mugs — on the counter, claiming he doesn’t know where they go. He wants praise for emptying the dishwasher; she points out he only did half the job. He accuses her of always picking fights; she wants to scream that he did half the job.

Jen clarifies that her “next life, no men” statement isn’t about leaving the Hubs. It’s about not wanting to start over with anyone else. She can’t imagine a new man wanting a medal for knowing where the forks go, or having to justify a ten-dollar Target purchase, or arguing about couch color for eighteen years, or sharing a bed with a snorer who crosses the center line. She doesn’t want to co-parent with anyone else — good stepparents are rare, and she suspects they’re all taken.

She then connects her feelings to a broader trend. She cites a Globe and Mail article reporting that over sixty-eight percent of Canadian seniors are single women due to divorce or widowhood, and that while men want to remarry, women aren’t interested — they don’t want the tensions of cohabitation or the physical and emotional labor relationships require. Jen sees the same pattern among middle-aged women: financially independent, done having kids, and able to find sex easily. She wants time and space, and companionship on her own terms. Her friend Lori lives separately from her serious boyfriend and says her relationship is wonderful because it’s on her terms. Jen is already planning her “Golden Girls” arrangement, with roommates lined up and a tiny-house commune as a possibility.

The chapter closes with Jen’s Gems: everyone’s marriage is hard work, so make sure your partner is worth the effort, and men apparently need praise like toddlers — so thank him for half-emptying the dishwasher.

Key Events

Jen watches the Hubs eat at lunch and thinks “next life, no men.”
A flashback to the morning toothbrushing incident, where the Hubs sprays toothpaste while trying to ask about the mail.
Jen shares her theory with friends and gets mixed reactions.
Constance describes her husband’s receipt-justification system; Jen is outraged, then realizes her own husband’s quirks are equally annoying to Constance.
Jen imagines realistic vows for both of them.
Jen blurts out that she wouldn’t remarry if single again; the Hubs is hurt and offended.
The couple endures a tense, silent lunch and retreats to separate floors.
A dishwasher fight reveals their communication differences.
Jen cites a Globe and Mail article about senior Canadian women choosing singlehood.
Lori’s separate-living arrangement is presented as a model.
Jen announces her Golden Girls plan.

Character Development

Jen is at her most candid here, admitting she’s selfish, struggles with compromise, and needs alone time to recharge. She’s self-aware about her flaws — calling herself a “bossy bitch” who only fights when the Hubs disagrees with her — and she’s honest about the gap between romantic ideals and daily reality. Her “next life, no men” comment isn’t a rejection of the Hubs but a rejection of starting over, and she works hard to explain that distinction, even when he doesn’t get it.

The Hubs is revealed as someone who craves togetherness and praise. He’d be happiest if Jen were his only friend, and he needs verbal appreciation for ordinary tasks like unloading the dishwasher. His hurt reaction to Jen’s comment shows how differently they interpret the same words — she means it as a compliment to their unique bond; he hears it as a critique of their marriage.

Constance serves as a contrast case, showing a marriage with a controlling financial dynamic that Jen finds intolerable — yet Constance tolerates it, just as Jen tolerates the Hubs’s messiness. The comparison underscores the chapter’s point that every marriage has its own trade-offs.

Lori appears briefly as a model of a relationship on her own terms — companionship without cohabitation, which Jen finds deeply appealing.

Themes, Symbols, or Motifs

Marriage as daily choice and work. Jen repeatedly frames marriage not as a romantic state but as a daily decision to tolerate another person’s quirks. Her imagined vows replace romance with practical bargains about thermostats, coupons, and brake pads.

The mundane annoyances of long-term partnership. Toothpaste on the mirror, food mixed into a gelatinous mess, dishwasher items left on the counter — these small irritations are the real texture of marriage, and Jen argues they matter more than romantic gestures.

Women’s independence in midlife. The chapter connects Jen’s personal feelings to a social trend: women who are financially independent, done raising kids, and no longer needing a husband for practical reasons. The Globe and Mail statistic and Lori’s example both support this.

Companionship without cohabitation. Lori’s separate-living arrangement and Jen’s Golden Girls plan both point toward a model of intimacy that doesn’t require sharing a bathroom or a couch.

Tolerance as the real compatibility test. Jen’s realization about Constance — that each woman thinks the other’s husband is unbearable — becomes the chapter’s central insight: the right partner is simply the one whose shit you’re willing to put up with.

Why This Chapter Matters

This chapter is one of the book’s most direct statements about marriage in midlife. Jen challenges the romantic narrative that marriage should feel effortless, arguing instead that it’s hard work that requires daily recommitment. She also gives voice to a growing sentiment among middle-aged women: that a husband is no longer a practical necessity, and that independence and alone time may be worth more than companionship. The chapter validates women who feel guilty for wanting space, and it reframes the “next life, no men” idea not as bitterness but as a realistic assessment of what women gain and lose in marriage. It also models honest communication — and its limits — showing that even when Jen explains herself clearly, the Hubs still hears something different.

Study Questions & Answers

1. Why does Jen frame her “next life, no men” comment as a compliment to the Hubs?

Jen means that she loves the Hubs enough to tolerate his specific quirks — the toothbrushing mess, the coupon obsession, the half-done dishwasher — but she wouldn’t want to invest that kind of effort in anyone else. The compliment is in the exclusivity: he’s the only person whose “shit” she’s willing to put up with. The Hubs, however, hears it as a critique of their marriage, revealing how differently they interpret the same words.

2. What does the Constance comparison reveal about how Jen evaluates her own marriage?

When Jen hears about Constance’s husband requiring receipts and docking her allowance, she’s furious and can’t imagine tolerating it. But Constance’s counter-jab about the coupon dinners makes Jen realize that Constance feels the same way about Jen’s husband. The mutual judgment shows that every marriage has trade-offs, and that tolerance — not romance — is the real measure of compatibility. Jen’s own marriage isn’t perfect, but it’s the one she chooses.

3. How does the chapter connect Jen’s personal feelings to broader social trends?

Jen cites a Globe and Mail article reporting that over sixty-eight percent of Canadian seniors are single women, and that men want to remarry while women decline. She sees the same pattern among middle-aged women: financially independent, done with childbearing, and able to find companionship without cohabitation. Her friend Lori’s separate-living arrangement and Jen’s own Golden Girls plan both reflect this shift — women choosing independence and space over the traditional expectation of remarriage.

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