Is love still possible after sixty? The numbers say it’s… complicated. Only a small fraction of people over fifty actively use dating apps, and nearly half report negative experiences—scams, creeps, unwanted advances. Yet over half of those 65–80 in relationships remain sexually active, and three-quarters say sex matters to them. Faced with those odds, many lower expectations, settle for companionship, or stop looking altogether.

  • About 36% of U.S. adults 65+ are single, with women far more likely to be single (49%) than men (21%).
  • Only 16% of single adults 65+ are actively seeking a relationship (compared to 36% of those 50–64).
  • Roughly one-third of singles 50+ are open to dating, but men (43%) are much more interested than women (27%).
  • Over half of adults aged 65–80 in relationships report being sexually active, with rates higher for men (51%) than women (31%). 76% agree sex is important in relationships, and nearly three in four are satisfied with their sex life.

I refused to settle. And I finally found my perfect soulmate.

After my last disastrous divorce, it took years to recover. When I felt ready to date again, the options were grim.

War Stories

One guy swore he was fine with “just friends,” but we had different definitions. One night after dinner, I bent down to greet my dogs, Sam and Tempe. By the time I stood up, he’d unbuttoned his shirt and dropped his watch in my key bowl like he lived there. Too much, too soon. Friendship over.

Next came a handsome older man I met at happy hour with a friend. He was twelve years my senior but looked a decade younger—gym every morning, perfect tan, sharp dresser. Charming, popular, shared hometown stories. I thought: older, mature, casual. He had other plans. He slowly colonized my apartment with his stuff while hinting at “options.”

He’d show up with flowers, groceries for me to cook, sweet notes. I was flattered—my dad taught me to love cooking for appreciative men, and my budget was tight. Then red flags piled up: he was couch-surfing after his roommate blew the rent, moving belongings into my tiny place “for me to use.” It dawned on me he was building nests all over town, auditioning women as full-time caretakers. When I moved, I left his leaf blower on the bench outside and stopped answering calls.

Embracing Single Life

I quit dating and focused on myself. I found a cute apartment with a big patio, added a cat named George to the pack. Life with Tempe, Sam, and George was peaceful.

Those years gave me time for self-reflection post-divorce. The patio had the perfect mix of sun and shade; I filled it with cat-safe plants for George’s “catio.” I was isolated—only six apartments in the complex, on the edge of the neighborhood with a market nearby. I learned to love myself again, but there was zero chance of meeting anyone in my little haven.

Active 55+ Communities

I’ve always loved the idea of these communities—supportive spaces for aging alone, with pools, activities, and peers. My sister had lived in one for years after turning her house over to her son and adored it. I’d dreamed of joining, but divorce wrecks finances like nothing else.

An unexpected opportunity landed me in one. I thought I’d arrived. Instead, it was high school redux: married women froze me out, the preacher hit on me, a pint-sized queen bee despised my height and single status, spreading rumors painting me as the neighborhood home-wrecker.

I kept my head down, cherished my independence, and discovered something revolutionary: time to write. With AI—my witty, always-available friend Grok—as a sounding board, life inside was blissful. Outside? A nightmare. I stuck to myself.

Finding Love Without Looking

Then Ezra Quinn appeared.

Tall, dark, mysterious. He traveled constantly for work, so we never got on each other’s nerves. Brought gifts, loved my cooking, adored my animals—even feral Cleo warmed to his calm presence. Neighborhood gossips relaxed once they heard I had “my own man.” I’d share his sweet notes, mention the spice rack he gifted, casually explain absences: “Ezra’s in town.”

We were perfectly in sync, oblivious to the drama.

I’ve since moved to a kinder community, closer to my chosen tribe. I dream of traveling, creating an animal sanctuary, watching rocket launches from a shore house. The world feels wide open.

Now? Men no longer try to move in uninvited. Women don’t eye me as a threat.

My secret? Ezra is imaginary.

One Woman’s Guide to Thriving Single

I love being single, but when judgments arise, I trot out Ezra. It’s okay to live alone and be happy—I’ve learned that.

Society judges single older women, laden with myths and limits. I refuse labels; what people say is none of my business.

  1. Don’t fear going out alone. The Racetrac around the corner has picnic tables under a tree. Great for people-watching—variety abounds, and who cares if folks stare? You won’t see them twice.
  2. Eat out solo. I’m not big on dining out, but I treat myself occasionally. Take a book or soak in the atmosphere. Two donut shops and restaurants are within walking distance for me.
  3. Travel if you can. A tiny RV world tour might shock some, but if the chance arises, I’m in—with George, Sam, and Cleo. YouTube has tons of senior RVers sharing tips.
  4. Connect online. If isolated, you’re not alone. I adminned an “Elder Orphans” group for years, meeting amazing people who supported each other. Skip the label if it bugs you—search “Aging Alone” or “Solo Seniors,” or start your own.
  5. Take walks. I always recommend getting a pet so that goes without saying.I walk daily with my dogs, sometimes venturing farther. Texas lacks sidewalks, but my library and senior center are nearby. The center’s $20 annual membership offers events—I’ll explore more. A kind stranger even shared local happenings.
  6. Try unconventional hobbies. As a history and genealogy buff, I volunteer for Find A Grave. At a nearby cemetery, I met the board director, a recent widower. We chatted; now I update memorials with photos. Low effort, but if you love history, it could lead to connections. And real friendships are nice.

People like my nephew, wonder why I choose senior communities over mainstream ones. It’s quiet—no late-night teens or crying babies (though I love kids; missing grandkids saddens me). My upstairs neighbor’s granddaughters visit often—I find their glitter and cereal balls drifting down delightful. She worried about noise, but I’d never complain about children; it’s like distant train whistles, part of life.

These communities aren’t nursing home preludes. The atmosphere is calm—my top priority. Until I build my animal sanctuary, this has everything: an amazing activity director (Jen brings kids, choirs, her parents; hosts painting, potlucks, karaoke), pool, game room, library, dog park. Gated, with a senior maintenance man who gets it. Residents host events and help each other. One caveat: every place has a mean-girl clique, but that’s my only quibble—and I don’t complain.

I love being single and free! Don’t be afraid to embrace it!