Dating After 40: Learning to Love the Space

I’m realizing how many preconceived ideas I have about relationships as I navigate dating again.

For example, in my early dating experiences through my 30s, when I would meet someone where ‘sparks’ happened, there was always this almost instantaneous relationship that formed.

Two people met who ‘clicked’, kissed, and looked for every opportunity to spend time together. The initial high of attraction, early feelings, and the excitement of someone new drew us together like magnets. The area that existed between first meeting and defining the relationship was relatively short. Sometimes it seemed nonexistent.

Urgency felt like intense passion, and speed bypassed any real evaluation.

At least until everything settled down and reality caught up and I found myself asking what I’d gotten myself into.

Now? Now there is a lot of space. A lot, a lot of space.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to do with all the space. Or how to feel about it. When you’re used to the high-voltage rush of early chemistry, calm feels… well, not all that exciting, not all that safe.

It’s easy to mistake the absence of anxiety for a lack of interest.

What I do know is that the space has enabled my initial peak of feelings- that high that came from early attraction and interest- to come down from the stratosphere and settle into reality.

Into relative calm.

Instead of riding a dopamine rollercoaster, my nervous system is quiet.

I feel interest and curiosity, but that anxiousness of the unknown has mostly dissipated.

The frantic need for immediate validation has dissolved in the space. Not because it didn’t get triggered, but because I sat with it. I asked it questions. I talked myself down from the cliff and into my body again.

That craving for time, for touch, for lips on lips… also gone. It’s settled instead into a sense of “if it happens, it happens, but I’m not chasing it.”

I mean, I still want intimacy. I just don’t need to pursue it in order to relieve the discomfort of wanting it.

This space isn’t an empty void or a sign of a fading spark.

It’s room to observe. To watch. To see if actions align with words.

It’s the buffer that allows me to see someone for who they actually are over time, rather than rushing to fill in the blanks with a fantasy.

Which, if I do say so myself, I used to be really, really good at doing.

I’m no longer dating from a place of scarcity or a need to be chosen quickly just to feel secure. That sense of security rarely came with true safety, anyway.

I am dating with self-possession, curious to see whether someone actually fits into the peaceful life I’ve worked so hard to build.

So, I still have crushes, and they’re still fun.

But crushes feel a whole heck of a lot different when you’re past 40 and living a life you’re proud of and happy to occupy, in a body that finally feels like yours.

The space that used to terrify me has become my favorite part of the process. It’s where I get to keep myself. It’s that space that feels like home, because I’m there.

If lightning strikes again, wonderful.

But until then, I am perfectly content standing right here in the calm, enjoying the view of a life I built with my own two hands.

Always,
Your Trusted Friend ❤︎