On my birthday, I found myself quietly wishing that by the time I turn 50, I’ll have someone to share it with. It’s a steady, gentle hope – something to hold onto as I grow into that space with intention over the next year.

I’m hesitant to date someone significantly older, having already endured the pain of losing someone I loved. That loss still lingers, and the fear of experiencing it again makes me cautious about investing too deeply. Still, after everything I’ve been through, I remain open. If someone wanted to share a moment with me – no pressure – I’d welcome it.

I deeply miss physical intimacy – the comfort of touch, of closeness. Surely there’s a woman who feels the same. Just two people, wrapped in warmth and mutual care. Something quietly beautiful.

I don’t know who she is or when our paths will cross – but the thought of her keeps my heart soft. For that alone, I’m already grateful.