how to date like a grown-ass woman over 40

I’m 43, but sometimes I forget that I’m older than Kim Cattrall was in the first season of Sex and the City. Is that weird? It feels weird to say. Samantha Jones was a sex symbol. A goddess. A grown-ass woman. Someone who knew her way around a boardroom and a dildo. I bump into the kitchen counter regularly on the way from my tiny home office because I’m usually dodging cat toys.

And yet I’m older than she is, and I find myself asking: What does that mean? What does it mean to be 43 years old and date? Not like I’m 35, and definitely not like I’m 22.

Age is funny. I’m the first to admit that 40 doesn’t roll off the tongue quite the same way as turning 30 did. There’s a gravity to saying you’re 40. It sounds like a big deal. It sounds kind of old. It sounds like you should have your shit together—whatever that means. My list of doctor’s appointments this month definitely speaks to my age (mammogram, OB-GYN appointment to discuss HRT), but most of the time I feel like… me.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m older and wiser, that I’ve lived a life, and that, yes, it’s okay to not make the bed and have a gluten-free cookie before dinner.

As I’ve written about before, for the longest time I didn’t really date. I hooked up. I got swept up in situationships. I didn’t know much about what it meant to have a relationship or, more importantly, what type of relationship I wanted or what type of partner I wanted, so I basically dated like it was Squid Game—chaotic, scary, and hoping I’d make it out alive.

But now that doesn’t feel like me. That’s not how I date, that’s not who I am, and as I’ve settled into this middle-aged body (which means guzzling down protein like it’s my job, lifting heavy weights, and talking about big toes—yes, big toes. My mom says big toes are the key to longevity, so now, apparently, I need to invest in working out my big toes, like I don’t have enough on my plate), I’ve had to remind myself that I’m not 35 or 22 (and that’s weird to say, but not really. Wait until you get older, and then you’ll see what I mean). I am a grown-ass woman.

And the more I’ve settled into who I am, and as I’ve continued to date, I’ve been able to observe the differences and changes within me. Because it is different to date in your 40s. It should be different to date in your 40s. And I know, I KNOW—there is a lot of rhetoric out there that it’s hard to date over 40, especially as a woman: older men want to date someone younger, and younger men want to date someone younger too. According to almost every news piece out there, dating as a 40-something woman is like disappearing into the Bermuda Triangle—somehow we don’t exist anymore. OR we’re being pursued by younger men who are only interested in our dusty vaginas.

All of that (toxic) rhetoric comes from outside voices—things, opinions, and perspectives that are out of our control. And that’s not how a 43-year-old woman dates. We don’t date reactively. We don’t take things personally. We don’t date according to trends. We don’t create infantilized phrases that explain away toxic behaviour (Shrekking, breadcrumbing, benching, freckling—I could go on). We date maturely—not perfectly—but with the wisdom that comes with age and experience, which helps us sit up a little straighter (which it should! All 40-year-old women should enter a room with their heads held high. We’ve more than earned the right to take up space). Here’s how to date as a grown-ass 40-year-old woman.

OK, I said we don’t use cutesy dating terms, but I think I can make an exception here.

A pick-me girl is someone who longs for the attention of a man (or any man). Someone who needs to feel validated by a man (or any man).

At 40 and over, we are beyond being a pick-me girl. We’re a chooser—and, in fact, we are choosy.

Not just any man will do.

Just because a 6’5” finance guy with blue eyes sends you a rose on Hinge (puke) doesn’t mean we entertain him if we don’t feel his profile is a match.

Culture tells us that we should feel lucky to be chosen over 40, but that’s not how a grown-ass woman operates.

We know we already have a lot to offer someone, and if they don’t want it, then we have an amazing life anyway.

Because that’s the key: we choose ourselves.

Let’s be honest: if you’re over 40 and single, you’ve earned the right to be choosy AF when it comes to your love life and your peace.

We don’t endlessly scroll, hoping someone will match with us. We’re busy.

We don’t keep giving men second, third, or fourth chances.

We know our worth.

We don’t subscribe to a scarcity mindset. We choose to believe in abundance—in life and in dating.

We don’t perform or audition.

We sit back, observe, and discern.

If someone doesn’t pick us? We say, “OK” and simply move on.

We don’t do black cat energy. We don’t wait three days to tell someone we’re interested if we’re interested. And we don’t tolerate the same in return.

There’s no gossiping or immature DMing between friends when it comes to our love life. We keep it to ourselves (mostly) because we trust ourselves to make the right decision about our personal life. And when we do share with friends, it’s to ask for advice—not to vent or analyze his text messages for the hundredth time.

Dating in your forties means… clarity. It means asking questions to get to the heart of what you want in a relationship, to invite curiosity and connection, and, above all, communication.

We value ourselves and our time too much to wait in limbo for any man. We don’t try to make men jealous. We don’t stalk exes or his last girlfriend’s childhood babysitter to get the tea. We simply don’t have time for that.

We’re not messy. We know who we are, we know what we want, and we communicate that. If someone can’t rise to our level, we don’t stoop to theirs. If dating isn’t easy, fun, respectful, and kind, we simply don’t waste our time.

We don’t care about double texting. If we have something to say, we say it. We’re not sitting there over-analyzing timing or asking ChatGPT how to craft the perfect text (because, hint: there isn’t one when you’re being your true self!).

But we also don’t double text a guy who is clearly ignoring us.

We don’t mind making the first move on a guy. In fact, sometimes we prefer it—we’re not waiting around for permission to live our lives or express interest.

But we also won’t chase it.

We don’t have important conversations over text. We pick up the phone or ask to meet up in person.

We don’t crave a morning text as a sign of attention or validation. If we get it, fine, it’s cute. But we know actions speak louder than words.

We also don’t need to text a guy a billion times during the day to sustain connection or get attention. We’re busy. If we see something funny or sweet we want to share, or we want to reach out, we will, but we’re not spamming someone’s phone. That’s boring and pulls us out of our own lives.

There’s a difference between being intentional and being unavailable to yourself.

We show up. We’re clear. We’re honest. And we have fun—because it’s okay to have fun while dating. In fact, if it isn’t fun, you shouldn’t be doing what you’re doing.

And if it’s not being met on the other side, we don’t turn him into a project. We let it go. Because we know relationships are two-way streets, not detours from our own priorities.

You stop trying because you know you already are cool. Meaning you. Your quirks, your flaws, your history, your soul, your heart, your hobbies. That’s what makes you, YOU, and you don’t hold back from being yourself when you date. You let it allll hang out.

There’s no trying to impress someone by pretending to be someone else. There’s no masking, no pretending, no outright lying because you have to get this man to like you.

You’re not auditioning for a man like it’s the Oscars because you already know you’re a star.

And maybe you don’t believe that every second of the day (God, we’re over 40, not fucking perfect), but you’ve lived long enough to know who you are, to like who you are, and to accept who you are. Or at least you’re fucking TRYING LIKE HELL TO, and you’d be damned if you’re going to let some pipsqueak named Derek make you feel inferior because you don’t like Wilco or camping. FFS.

In your twenties, it was all about getting the hot guy. Okay, maybe it was like that in your thirties. Okay, maybe it’s still like that in your forties and beyond.

And here’s the thing—you can still want the hot guy.

But we can’t mistake the chemistry we share on a first date for something that will sustain a relationship over the long haul. We know chemistry alone doesn’t build something that survives real life at this stage. And if you want a relationship, you need more than chemistry. We’re also wise enough to know that chemistry can grow between two people once real life, consistency, and actual compatibility show up.

Which means we’re mature enough to give a guy a second date if there wasn’t instant chemistry (but we’re also mature enough to know that if there’s no chemistry at all, it’s time to cut him loose—even if he does have a lot of money and wants to give us princess treatment). Also, we don’t do princess treatment because, excuse me, WE ARE NOW THE QUEEN!

It’s not to say we don’t need chemistry—we all want to have good sex—but we know the difference between a fuckboy and an emotionally available man.

Here’s another thing: if we do want the fuckboy, we’re mature enough to say, “Hey, this is just sex. This is just casual. There’s nothing more to expect from this.” We know that going into it, and we don’t try to turn something unmistakably casual into something more. We don’t do that to ourselves anymore.

The real point is that we know the difference between chemistry and compatibility, and we’re grown-up enough to take responsibility for our choices. Above all, we respect ourselves and our wants enough to know that if he can’t give us what we ultimately want in a relationship (and in bed), we’re not going to stick around trying to make it work—because we know it rarely does.

You let people disappoint you quickly because that means you’re weeding them out. It’s not to say rejection doesn’t still hurt after 40—of course it does. You’re not the Tin Man; you’re just losing estrogen.

But I’d like to think we’re a bit more like Teflon after all the shit that’s been done to us over the years—big shit, little shit—we’ve come to accept that life doesn’t always work out the way we planned, and at this point we’ve had enough experience with that to stop being shocked by it.

People will disappoint us. People will reject us, hurt us, abandon us, disappear mid-conversation, and ghost us… and we will be okay.

Rejection in dating is part of dating, just like it’s part of life. We won’t always get what we want, but it’s my belief that we will always get what we need—and that life’s rejections are often God’s redirections.

Pining after a guy who rejected us is not the vibe after 40. Being obsessive or vindictive is also not it. We accept someone else’s autonomy. We respect it. It doesn’t mean we have to like it right away. It doesn’t mean it won’t sting.

But we can and will get over it quickly because we’ve been through rougher things than Steve not texting you back after what you thought was a genuinely solid second date.

We have a full life. Steve was a blip. One of many you don’t have the energy to overanalyze anymore.

Because that’s the thing—we see life as a series of opportunities and lessons. We don’t see life as something that’s out to get us. Life feels more like a series of experiences at this age, ones that make up the story of our lives.

We realize now we don’t have as much control as we might have thought, and at this point in life we don’t have the energy to fight reality. The easier we accept that life goes on, the quicker we can go back to enjoying ourselves.

We’ve got another half of life to live.

And look, that’s not to say life is perfect. Bills still need to be paid, children might still need to be looked after, parents are getting older, there might be a mid-life crisis on the horizon and an ill-advised purchase of a sports car coming… but when you reach 40, you’re just more… chill.

It’s not that I don’t have my fair share of triggers when it comes to dating—my anxious attachment can still rear its head when someone doesn’t text me back fast enough, and my avoidant side can show up when someone texts me back too much—but for the most part, I’d say things don’t really bother me as much.

I have my standards in dating—as everyone should—and I have my fair share of icks that make zero sense (a man playing guitar is one of them). But there’s a certain wave of calmness that sinks in at middle age. It’s like, “this is it. this is me” and “this is you” and it’s all good. It either works or it doesn’t, but no hard feelings.

And it’s not like there won’t be more adventures and experiences—God, I hope so—but things don’t feel so overwhelming or uncertain anymore because we’ve survived that first half of life, the trickier part of it.

Now we’re on the back end of it all, and we can see how silly we were—how dramatic, unsure, or insecure we were when we didn’t need to be. I hate to be cliché, but yes, “youth is wasted on the young” is a thing.

So now that we’ve survived the agony of our twenties and the stress of our thirties, we don’t want that life anymore. And we certainly don’t want our dating life disrupting our chill.

I’d like to say I approach dating with a lighter touch now. I’m more intentional than ever, but I’m lighter. Things aren’t so serious. Things don’t need to be figured out ASAP.

It’s ironic because time might be slipping by faster now, but I also don’t want to rush it. I want to figure things out on their timeline. I want to savour what I’m learning, feeling, touching. I don’t want to get ahead of myself or stress myself out.

I want to be more… chill. I just want to be my forty-something-year-old self right now, and enjoy her and the life she’s lived.

Thanks for being here!

Love, Brie xoxo

Why 40 was my favourite year yet...

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December 30, 2023

Not too long ago I was asked by a much-younger co-worker which was my favourite year. I didn’t hesitate when I told her it was 40.

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