Courage or Lunacy…who knows?

Dating in your fifties is a lot like doing yoga on a paddleboard. 

It seems risky, you fear looking silly and you know you’re going to fall in.  And yet here we are.

All of us walking around with our battle scars a little closer to the surface.  Some of us seeing fun and possibility and others seeing only the inevitable disaster; makes for interesting first date conversations.

We bravely show up- online, at Meetup groups, at cocktail parties thrown by our married friends, at random wine tastings.  We bring our shy hopefulness,  sense of humor and comfort in our own skin.  Of course, we also possess a more finely honed bullshit meter directed to a host of soft warning signs and overt red flags.

We know the sins of our own pasts and have explored and forgiven them. 

If we’re lucky, we find a companion who has done the same work to excavate the snaky stuff.  If we’re really lucky, that partner accepts us, laughs at our jokes and likes our face in the morning sun. 

Maybe we even have THE CONVERSATION- “So, are you still on Match, cruising for the next best thing or might you be interested in exploring this commitment thing with me?”  Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

So we bumble along- finding fifty-whatever approximately the same as twenty-whatever- but with less alcohol and fewer smoky bars.

And yet-

We also find ourselves falling in love-

Tasting kisses as if for the first time in our tender lives.

Bravely showing all our cards on the table-

asking for what we want and walking away from partners who aren’t willing

to show the same courage.

The wisdom to know the difference is the blessing of this fifth decade.

And so, we craft our lives

baby steps toward making space for a fellow travel companion.

Considering new definitions of what brings us joy-

Rewriting our own best love story.