Why I Started This Blog

Last weekend, I went on a coffee date.

Now before anyone gets too excited, let me clarify: this was not one of those movie-scene coffee dates where two people lock eyes over oat milk lattes and discover they both love jazz and rescue dogs.

No.

This was a one-man show.

And apparently, I was seated in the audience.

To be fair, the man was very passionate… about himself. I learned about his work, his opinions, his routines, his experiences, and I think possibly his cholesterol levels. What I did not learn was whether he had any curiosity whatsoever about the woman sitting across from him.

Because he never asked.

Not one meaningful question.

Now here’s the ironic part: the next day was my 60th birthday.

Sixty.

A milestone birthday. A reflective birthday. A “wow, how did I get here so fast?” birthday.

And had this man paused long enough to ask literally anything beyond “Cream or sugar?”, I probably would have shared that with him.

But honestly? I’m glad I didn’t.

Because somewhere between sip number three and his detailed explanation of something I stopped listening to 20 minutes earlier, I realized something important:

This is exactly why I started this blog.

Not because I have all the answers about dating. Trust me, I do not.

I started it because dating at this stage of life is teaching me things about myself I never expected to learn at 60.

It’s teaching me that I still believe in connection.

It’s teaching me that I still get nervous before dates.

It’s teaching me that I can laugh afterward instead of taking every disappointing interaction personally.

And maybe most importantly, it’s teaching me to continue being fully myself — warm, curious, open, reflective, hopeful — even when the person across from me isn’t capable of meeting me there.

That’s growth.

Also, let’s all take a moment to appreciate the brilliance of a simple coffee date.

Ladies, if a date is going to turn into an unsolicited autobiography, better it happens over a $4 coffee than after spending two hours getting dressed, applying mascara, squeezing into uncomfortable shoes, and committing to a full dinner entrée.

Coffee dates are efficient.

They’re the emotional equivalent of a Costco sample.

Just enough information to know whether you’d like the full-sized product.

In this case, I politely declined.

But I didn’t walk away discouraged.

I walked away grateful.

Grateful that I’m still putting myself out there.

Grateful that life can still surprise me.

Grateful that even disappointing dates come with little lessons hidden inside them.

And grateful that turning 60 doesn’t mean I’m done growing, learning, laughing, or hoping.

So if you’re out there dating again — awkwardly, bravely, imperfectly — I hope you keep going too.

Even the bad dates make good stories eventually.

And apparently… blog material.

Until next time,

Della