Second Youth of the Heart

When I joined JustForForties.com, I wasn’t exactly looking for “the one.” I was looking for someone who didn’t roll their eyes when I said I preferred a good wine night over a wild club evening, someone who understood that “Netflix and chill” actually meant watching Netflix.

At 44, I had my career in marketing, two grown kids in college, and a very spoiled Labrador named Daisy. My life was full — but, I’ll admit, a little quiet. Then one Friday evening, while Daisy snored beside me, I thought, Maybe it’s time to open the door to something new.

So I made a profile.

I didn’t expect much. But two days later, a message popped up:

“You mentioned you make the world’s best lasagna. I’m skeptical, I’ve been burned before. Literally.”

His name was Matthew, 46, a high school history teacher with a smile that looked half confident, half mischievous.

I replied:

“Then maybe I’ll have to restore your faith in Italian cuisine. Though I take no responsibility for singed taste buds.”

His answer came quickly:

“Challenge accepted. But I warn you, I’m bringing my own garlic bread.”

And that was how it began — not with roses or poetry, but with jokes about carbs and burnt dinners.

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We messaged every evening after that. He told me about his students (“They think the Roman Empire is a video game”), his love of cycling, and his failed attempt to learn the ukulele. I shared my secret passion for baking and my tendency to cry at movie trailers.

After a week, he wrote:

“How about we move from typing to talking? There’s a new coffee shop downtown with legendary brownies.”

I agreed, partly because of the brownies, mostly because I liked the way he made me laugh.

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When I walked into the café, he was already there, tall, casual in jeans and a leather jacket, holding two cups of coffee and looking a little nervous.

- Nicole? - he asked, standing up.

- Matthew. - I said, smiling. - You brought coffee? That’s already half the way to my heart.

He grinned. 

- The other half is probably lasagna.

I laughed. 

-You catch on fast.

We sat down, and conversation flowed as easily as the coffee. We talked about everything, favorite travel spots, disastrous first dates, our mutual hatred for bad Wi-Fi. When he leaned in and said,

- Do you ever feel like your twenties were fun, but your forties are real?

I nodded. 

- Exactly. We’ve had our practice rounds. Now we actually know what matters.

The rest of the café faded away. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so comfortable, or laughed that much with someone new.

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By the time the waiter came by to ask if we wanted dessert, we were already plotting our “great lasagna cook-off.”

That night, as I walked home, my cheeks hurt from smiling. It wasn’t a fireworks kind of feeling, it was warmer, steadier, like rediscovering a song you used to love.

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It’s been ten months since that first message on JustForForties.com. Matthew and I still tease each other about our cooking skills (for the record, his garlic bread really is amazing). We spend weekends hiking, binge-watching documentaries, and occasionally dancing in the kitchen when no one’s watching, not gracefully, but joyfully.

He once told me:

- You make life feel young again.

I said:

- It’s not youth, it’s just happiness.

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If I’ve learned anything, it’s this: love after forty doesn’t feel like starting over — it feels like starting better. You know yourself, you know what you want, and you’re not afraid to laugh at the little things.

So if you’re reading this and wondering whether to take that leap — do it. Sign up, send that message, share your favorite meal or your worst joke. Because somewhere out there, someone is waiting to laugh with you, too.