You know, I always thought by 45 I’d have it all figured out. The career, the home, the partner who’d be there through thick and thin. But here I am, sitting at my kitchen table, scrolling through another dating app, wondering why this feels like a battlefield I’m losing. Dating at this age? It’s like walking through a maze blindfolded, with half the paths just vanishing.
I meet these guys, and at first, it’s all charm and promise. There was Mark, who sent me good morning texts for three weeks straight, made me laugh over coffee, and then—poof. Gone. No explanation, no goodbye, just radio silence. Ghosted, like I was some fleeting notification he could swipe away. Then there was David, sweet, thoughtful, until I mentioned I’d love to have a family someday. His face froze, and by the next date, he was “not ready for that kind of future.” Fair enough, I guess, but it stings when you realize you’re on different pages, and they don’t even want to try turning to yours.
And don’t get me started on commitment. I met Paul, who was all in for fancy dinners and weekend getaways, but the second I brought up something longer-term, he got this look—like I’d asked him to sign his life away. He said he “wasn’t built for settling down,” like it’s some design flaw to want a partner who stays. I’m not asking for a ring on the second date, just someone who sees a future, not a finish line.
It’s exhausting, you know? I’m 45, not 25, and I’ve got a full life—friends, a job I love, a home I’ve made my own. But there’s this ache for connection, for someone who’ll stick around past the spark. I keep wondering if it’s me. Am I too much? Too independent? Too honest about wanting a real bond? Or is it just this world now, where people treat love like a takeout menu—pick what’s convenient, skip the rest?
I’m not giving up, though. I still believe there’s someone out there who won’t vanish, who won’t flinch at the word “family,” who’ll see commitment as a promise, not a cage. But some days, it’s hard to keep swiping, keep hoping, keep putting my heart out there when it feels like it’s just going to get handed back. Still, I’m here. And I’ll keep showing up. Because if I’ve learned anything at 45, it’s that the things worth having don’t come easy.