The Courage to Love Again

I never planned to date after forty. I certainly never planned to create a profile on justforties.com—but one evening, after a conversation with a friend, I thought, “Why not?”

I wrote a few lines about myself—that I’m a teacher, that I love traveling and morning coffee—and uploaded a vacation photo of me trying (and failing spectacularly) to balance on a paddleboard.

A few days later, Brian messaged me. “I admire your courage, I’d last maybe five seconds on one of those.”

I replied, “Well, I’d at least try to save you.”

And that’s how it began. For several days, we talked about everything—work, our teenage kids, how hard it sometimes is to find someone who understands that life after forty moves to a different rhythm.

Then Brian suggested we meet.

- I have an idea that’s not coffee or lunch. - he wrote. - But you’ll have to promise to trust me, and not ask where we’re going.

Normally, I’d never agree to something like that. But there was something… light in his words. I sensed it wasn’t about risk—it was about fun.

On Saturday, he waited for me outside my building, right on time at ten. Smiling, wearing a sporty jacket, holding two thermoses of coffee.

- Ready for an adventure? - he asked.

- I’m starting to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. - I answered with a smile.

After half an hour’s drive, we arrived at… an airport. A small, local one, with a few hangars and a sign that read “Scenic Flights.”

- You’re kidding me! - I said, staring at the small white plane parked just a few meters away.

- Not at all. - he smiled. - We’re flying over the lake. It’s my favorite form of therapy. - he added, as casually as if he were inviting me for a walk.

My heart pounded wildly—but before I could back out, the pilot handed me headphones and gave me a reassuring smile.

We took off.

The ground shrank beneath us, the wind gently rocked the aircraft, and Brian watched me from the corner of his eye with that same warm, calm smile.

- Do you regret saying yes yet? - he asked through the intercom.

- Maybe a little! - I laughed, gripping the seat. - But at least I’ll die with a beautiful view!

He laughed with me. Then, once the plane leveled out, a moment of quiet settled between us. From above, we saw blue lakes, forests, and tiny towns like miniature models.

- Sometimes you have to leave the ground to see how beautiful what you have really is. - he said. - I think that goes for love too.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. In that moment, I felt exactly the same.

After the flight, we sat on the grass beside the runway, sipping coffee from our thermoses.

- You know, - I said, - that was the strangest first date of my life.

- But was it a bad one? - he asked.

- Quite the opposite. - I smiled. - Maybe even the best.

Brian looked at me with a playful glint in his eye.

- Good. Because I already have a few more ‘crazy’ ideas. Don’t worry, no parachutes. - he promised.

Driving home, I felt something had shifted in my life.

Not because I’d flown over the city—but because I’d remembered what it feels like to experience joy, spontaneity, and courage.

After forty, it’s not about starting everything over. It’s about remembering that you still can.

Because sometimes love doesn’t arrive in grand declarations or elaborate plans. Sometimes, it simply takes you on a flight you’ll never forget.