Dating wasn’t supposed to be a thing after 60. Or at least, that’s what I told myself. My last date was in the late ’80s, long before swiping, ghosting, or profiles with filters and bios existed. But after my husband passed and the kids had flown the nest, I found myself staring at the quiet. One night, after watching a rom-com I’d seen three times already, I downloaded a dating app—just to “see what was out there.” I had no idea what I was getting into.
Setting Up My First Profile Was Like Learning a New Language
When I opened the app, I was hit with questions: What do you like to do? What are your hobbies? Do you drink socially? Are you looking for love or just something casual? I hadn’t asked myself any of these questions in years. I wasn’t even sure what counted as a hobby anymore. Knitting? Baking? Watching British crime dramas?
I kept my answers simple, uploaded the only good selfie I had, and hit “save.” Then I just stared at the screen. Was this it? Was I supposed to message someone first? Wait for someone to message me? I didn’t know the rules.
The First Matches Were…Interesting
I got a few likes right away, which surprised me. One man complimented my smile. Another said he liked that I’d listed “old jazz records” as an interest. A third simply said, “Hey sexy.”
That one got deleted immediately.
There were truck drivers, dog lovers, retirees who loved fishing, and one man who lived in a van (by choice, apparently). I learned quickly to read between the lines. “Easygoing” sometimes meant “expects you to plan everything.” “Financially stable” could mean anything from “has a pension” to “still living with my adult kids.”
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My First Online Date Was a Disaster (But I Survived)
I agreed to meet a man named Gary. His profile said he was “active, honest, and loves Italian food.” We met at a local café. He was shorter than I expected, a little grumpier than I’d hoped, and within five minutes, he was telling me about his recent colonoscopy.
I smiled politely, stirred my coffee, and waited it out.
After an hour of medical talk and a brief debate about whether the moon landing was fake (his idea, not mine), I left. No sparks, no butterflies—just relief that it was over.
But oddly enough, I wasn’t discouraged. I’d done it. I’d met a stranger from the internet and lived to tell the tale.
I Learned More About Myself Than I Expected
Each person I met helped me learn something new. One man taught me how to identify local birds. Another shared tips on photography and got me to pick up my old film camera again. Not all of them were romantic connections, but I wasn’t looking for a soulmate—I was looking to feel alive again.
I started dressing up for dates. Not for them, but for me. I felt attractive for the first time in years. And I realized how much I’d missed adult conversation—the kind that isn’t about groceries or the grandkids.
I Faced My Own Fears Along the Way
I won’t lie—putting myself out there was terrifying. Every wrinkle, every gray hair felt like a neon sign saying “Too Late.” But I also met people who didn’t care about that. One man told me, “There’s nothing more beautiful than a woman who knows herself.”
That stayed with me.
I also had to get comfortable with rejection. Sometimes I liked someone and they didn’t feel the same. Sometimes I unmatched someone and felt guilty about it. But slowly, I stopped taking it personally.
Eventually, I Found Someone Worth a Second Date
His name was Michael. He was a retired librarian who loved crossword puzzles and had a golden retriever named Dot. We chatted for a week before meeting. He was kind, funny, and genuinely interested in getting to know me.
We took a walk by the lake, drank hot chocolate, and swapped book recommendations. He didn’t bring up politics, past relationships, or his digestive system. Just asked questions. Listened. Smiled.
We’ve gone on five dates since then. Nothing official. No pressure. Just two people sharing time. And that, I’ve learned, is more than enough.
The Apps Aren’t Perfect, But They Work—Even at 62
There were scams, ghosting, and some awkward small talk. There were moments I swore off dating forever. But then I remembered: life is supposed to be a little messy. And dating at 62 isn’t about recapturing youth. It’s about connection.
Technology can’t replace the magic of meeting someone who sees you. But it can help you find them.
I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad I tried the apps. Not because I found love right away, but because I found myself again. And at this age, that’s the best kind of romance there is.
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