Can You Fall in Love at Sixty-Five?

I had my doubts.

I knew what love felt like when I married my high school sweetheart. Walking down the aisle, at the age of twenty-one, I naively thought I could never love her more than I did at that heart-pounding, hot-to-trot moment.  

Fast forward thirty-eight years, four months, and twenty-six days.

I knew what love felt like when I sat next to my wife as she lay dying of cancer.

Love, I had discovered, could grow exponentially beyond any sense of measure, especially after an almost four-decade-long extraordinary marriage that included five children and an encyclopedia of heartwarming memories.

But…is it possible to fall in love again? At age sixty-five?

The scary part of re-entering the dating world as a senior citizen is whether one can ever capture the love bug in a bottle once again. Is that even possible? After five years as a widower, I pondered whether or not lightning could strike twice.

Even if I was willing to date or consider marriage again, would it be just a frustrating, embarrassing, or awkward experience?  

As the first year of my CatholicMatch subscription came to a close, I hesitated to renew. I had been a widower for five years. While all the ladies I had met were delightful, no dialogue or date had sparked any romantic interests. Maybe my expectations of finding love again were unrealistic.

However, it had not been a total waste of time.

I had met some wonderful women, enjoyed the dialogues, and even a few nice dates. I also learned much more about myself as I plunged into the uncharted waters of internet dating. I grew more comfortable and confident despite not finding that special someone. I prayed for every woman with whom I interacted. I kept telling myself that I did not have to marry again to be content. I was already a contented man, blessed in so many ways. Yet, I was open to possibilities, new directions, and yes, a new relationship. So, I committed to staying on the CatholicMatch website just a little longer. 

It was then I received a “Hi” from Patrice.  

Looking at her profile, I immediately placed her into a grey area criteria-wise. She was divorced and annulled after a thirty-year marriage. She was a decade younger than me and lived two hours away. My initial reaction was, “Nay, Nay.” She lives too far away, and she doesn’t fit my original criteria, though I had long since expanded my dating standards.

Still, I found her profile intriguing. After dialoguing online for a month, we agreed to meet. A two-hour conversation over iced tea at a McDonalds left me wanting to see her again. This was a woman I wanted to know better. Over the next several months, our friendship grew.

I learned her favorite football team was Manchester United. Say what? Well, that explained why she didn’t even know what a first down was in (American) football. She wasn’t Southern but had a cute Irish accent. And bless her heart, she ate fried chicken with a fork, for goodness sakes. But she made a killer salad that after one bite had me begging for the recipe. Intelligent, with two Master Degrees, she could hold her own in a conversation.  

Yes, this Southern-bred boy was fascinated with this Italian-born, Irish-talking, now American woman.

I had found a friend, and despite her apparent flaws (see football and chicken comments above), I soon realized that this friendship had evolved into courtship. Had lightning struck again? I could not deny the growing romantic attraction and the sparks. Lots of sparks. 

Can a man fall in love at sixty-five?

I was beginning to think so. I found myself longing to hear Patrice’s voice, yearning to be in her presence. When with her, I felt a collage of warm emotions—peacefulness, calmness, and a sense of being at home. Her smile caused my heart to flicker. These feelings were like a steady breeze upon the romantic embers of my heart. When spending time with her, I longed to be a better man, a better father, and possibly, a better future husband. It was increasingly difficult to leave her after our dates. When apart, I found myself thinking about her, longing to be with her. I missed her.

I asked myself, could this be what love is like at sixty-five?

Yes. Yes, it could. And, yes, it was!

I mused, are we better together than apart?

Yes.

Funny, that’s the same answer I got when I asked her to marry me.