Love, Laughter, and Late Blooms: Finding the Love of My Life in My 50s

For most of my life, I thought love had a timeline—like an expiration date on a carton of milk. You meet someone in your 20s, marry by your 30s, raise a couple of kids who turn your hair gray by your 40s, and by your 50s, you and your spouse are supposed to be debating the best thermostat setting and whether or not to get a second dog.

And for a while, that’s exactly how my life looked. I was married for 26 years, raising kids, making a home, doing all the things I thought I was supposed to do. But life has a way of surprising you. And sometimes, it rips up the script you had so carefully written, hands you a blank page, and says, “Try again.”

Suddenly, in my 50s, I found myself single again. Dating was something I had done in my early 20s, back when I thought love was all about butterflies and grand gestures. But now? Now I had lived a life. I had raised kids. I had walked through fire and come out stronger. And yet, the thought of stepping back into the dating world after decades? Terrifying. I mean, in my 20s, dating meant picking out a cute outfit and hoping the guy had a job. In my 50s, dating meant Googling "How much do background checks cost?"

And let’s talk about the intimidation factor for a second. Dating in your 20s, you have youth on your side, gravity is still your friend, and you can eat an entire pizza at midnight with zero consequences. Dating in your 50s? Well… let’s just say you’ve made peace with good lighting, and the idea of showing yourself—body, heart, and soul—to someone new is a different kind of vulnerable. It’s not just about whether they’ll think you look good; it’s about whether they’ll understand the person you’ve become. Because I wasn’t the same woman I was at 20. And thank goodness for that.

So, I did what any mature, confident, grown woman would do—I procrastinated. I told myself I was “just fine on my own” (which was true) and that I wasn’t really interested in dating (which was mostly true). I built a life I loved, one where I was surrounded by people who made me laugh, work that gave me purpose, and a sense of peace that didn’t depend on anyone else.

And that’s when he showed up.

Not in a grand, sweeping, run-through-the-airport kind of way. No, it was more like, "Oh, there you are. What took you so long?"

Falling in love in my 50s was different. There were no games, no pretenses, no trying to impress each other by pretending to love hiking when we both knew we'd rather find a good brunch spot. It was a love built on deep conversations, mutual respect, and the refreshing ability to laugh at the absurdity of life. It wasn’t about saving each other—it was about walking side by side, as two whole people, ready to share the adventure.

For those still waiting for love: take heart. Love doesn’t follow a schedule, and it certainly doesn’t care about age. It doesn’t show up because we force it; it shows up when we’re already busy living well.

For those who are happily single: good for you! Loving your life as is is one of the most beautiful things you can do. You don’t need someone to make you whole—you were never incomplete to begin with.

And for those who have been married for years: cherish what you have. Love—real love—isn’t about perfection. It’s about choosing each other over and over, through morning breath, thermostat wars, and the way they load the dishwasher incorrectly (and yes, there is a correct way).

So, this Valentine’s Day, whether you’re single, married, searching, or just here for the chocolate, remember this: The greatest love story you’ll ever experience is the one you build with yourself first. Everything else is just a delightful bonus.

And sometimes, that bonus shows up when you least expect it… but right on time.

Happy Valentine’s Day, friends. 💕