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They say love finds you when you least expect it.
I used to roll my eyes at that phrase—chalk it up to wishful thinking or fairytale nonsense. After all, by the time I hit 50, I had lived a life full of lessons, heartbreaks, and compromises.
I had known passion that fizzled, companionship that never quite filled the lonely spaces, and connections that always seemed to fall just short of what my soul truly craved. I had come to believe that maybe the kind of love people write about—soulful, all-consuming, safe yet exhilarating—just wasn’t in the cards for me.
And then, it happened. Out of nowhere. No grand plan, no expectation, no pretense. Just a connection that sparked like fire and felt like home.
Meeting him was like being handed a mirror I didn’t know I needed. He saw me—all of me. And more than just seeing me, he got me. In ways no one ever had before. There was no effort required, no masks to wear. The communication flowed easily, naturally, deeply. We could talk for hours or sit in comfortable silence and still feel wrapped in intimacy.
He checked every box I ever imagined—and then some I didn’t even know I had.
He was my best friend, my confidant, my biggest cheerleader. And when it came to romance, let’s just say…I finally understood what it meant to be truly desired, truly touched—not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually. He made me feel beautiful, powerful, cherished. It wasn’t just about chemistry (though we definitely had that)—it was about resonance. Our energies just clicked, like two puzzle pieces that had been wandering the world trying to find their match.
It didn’t matter that we connected at 50. In fact, maybe that’s what made it all the more extraordinary. We came to each other with histories, with battle scars, with wisdom. We weren’t naive. We knew what didn’t work. And so, when something did—so profoundly and effortlessly—it felt sacred.
But life, as it often does, had other plans. Circumstances shifted. Timing proved cruel. The world outside our little bubble pulled us apart. Months have passed. No more cozy morning snuggles, or making love all night long. No bike rides on a sunny day. No late-night laughs over nothing. Distance settled in like an unwanted guest.
Yet here’s the thing: the love didn’t fade. Not even a little. In fact, it grew. I still love him. I know I always will. Nothing has changed for me. I think of him every day.
And the kicker? I love him even if he no longer loves me, though I do hope that he does.
Every day, he still lives in the corners of my mind and the center of my heart. I feel him in the songs we shared, in the quiet moments of reflection, in the strength I summon when I feel uncertain. It’s the strangest and most beautiful thing—being in love with someone who isn’t physically present, but whose essence feels more alive within you than ever.
That’s how I know it’s real. Because in all my years—decades, really—I’ve never felt anything like this. I’ve never stayed in love after absence. I’ve never had my heart beat the same way for someone after time and space took hold. But with him, the love only deepens. It transcends circumstances. It doesn’t demand possession or permanence to feel real.
It just is.
This kind of love—the soul-level, life-altering, no-going-back kind—is rare. And once you experience it, nothing else compares. It sets a new standard. Not in the sense of being picky or idealistic, but in the sense that you finally know what real love feels like—and you can no longer accept less.
It’s not about perfection. It’s not even about forever. It’s about truth. It’s about that undeniable knowing in your heart and soul that this person is your person. That even if the stars haven’t aligned just yet, the love you shared is something eternal. Something worth honoring. Something worth waiting for. Something worth holding on to.
I don’t know what the future holds. Maybe life will circle back around. Maybe our paths will reconnect. Or maybe we were meant to meet to show each other what love can be, even if just for a chapter—though I truly hope he finds his way back to me.
But what I do know is that I’m no longer willing to settle. Not for lukewarm affection or half-hearted efforts. Not for relationships built on convenience or fear of being alone. I’ve tasted something extraordinary. And once you’ve felt that kind of love, it becomes your compass.
So, to anyone reading this and wondering if real love is still possible later in life—it is. Sometimes it arrives wrapped in quiet moments and serendipitous meetings. Sometimes it shows up just when you’ve stopped looking. And sometimes, it doesn’t stay in the way you hoped. But that doesn’t make it any less real.
Hold out for the love that feels like home. The love that ignites your soul and holds space for your truth. The love that lingers even when the person is gone. That’s the love worth waiting for. That’s the love that reminds you—no matter your age, your past, or your fears—you are still capable of something beautiful, deep, and real. That you are worth loving, and that you are capable of loving someone with all of your heart and soul.
Accept nothing but that love.
Because you deserve it. I deserve it. We all deserve it. Wait for it—it’s real.
~
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