Stick around for a few laugh-worthy moments from my dating life—you won’t be disappointed. Solitude and loneliness aren’t the same thing.

Of course, I don’t mean all men need to learn these lessons; however, I’ve learned that I have to clarify that upfront.

Loneliness is a peculiar companion.

For some, it feels like a burden; for others, it’s a quiet kind of freedom—solitude.

As we grow older, the experience of being alone seems to diverge sharply between men and women.

Many older women, though certainly not all, appear to embrace this stage with resilience and grace. They pursue new interests, deepen friendships, and often find comfort in their own company. Older men, on the other hand, usually face a tougher adjustment. Whether following divorce or the loss of a spouse, many older men seem quick to seek a new partner, perhaps unsettled by the quiet that comes with being alone. I’ve witnessed this firsthand while dating in my 70s.

Is this a cultural assumption, or is there real insight behind the idea that older women navigate solitude more gracefully than men?

Community as a Lifeline
Women often cultivate deeper social circles over time, and that sense of community helps many embrace solitude rather than fear it.

Research consistently finds that women are more likely than men to sustain close friendships over time.

They tend to form strong emotional bonds, offer mutual support, and remain connected through significant life transitions, such as divorce or losing a partner.

Women are more likely to maintain emotionally supportive friendships, while men often rely solely on their partners.

According to a Journal of Social and Personal Relationships study, many older men find themselves emotionally alone when their partner is gone.

Emotional Independence Makes a Difference
Women are generally more skilled at processing and expressing their emotions. This is not because they’re inherently perfect at it, but because they’ve spent a lifetime being the emotional backbone of their families, juggling the needs of spouses, children, and extended relatives. This constant experience of being the family’s emotional pillar naturally makes them emotionally powerful. With this emotional depth, women often encounter discomfort not with denial but with grace. They lean into their feelings, give them voice, and find paths toward healing instead of avoidance.

While having coffee, a man once told me he was raised to believe that being strong meant keeping quiet, and that mindset still shapes how he deals with emotions.

I’ve come to value something else: honesty. I ask straightforward questions because, in your 70s, you don’t have time to tiptoe around the truth.

That’s why my questions tend to throw them—they don’t always know how to talk about their feelings or what to do with them.

From Caretaker to Creator
A lifetime of caring for others has shaped older women into some of the most quietly resilient people we know.

When the caregiving chapter ends, many don’t feel lost—they feel lighter.

They enter a new season filled with purpose, possibility, and self-renewal.

While women often step out of caregiving into renewal, many men step into solitude without a map, grappling with emotional needs they’ve never faced alone.

Freedom Worn Differently
For older women, solitude can be a symbol of strength.

For many older men, solitude feels more like a gap to be filled than a space to grow. Some of the men I’ve met barely had time to exhale between relationships—one, still untangling a twenty-year-long marriage, spoke of finding his next wife before his current chapter closed.

I’m clear about what I want—companionship, not cohabitation.

Shared moments, not shared mortgages. And when I say I’m not looking for marriage, the silence says it all. And just like that, they drift away.

According to a study in The Gerontologist, older men are significantly more likely to remarry after divorce or the loss of a spouse.

In contrast, women are more inclined to remain single. For many men, remarriage serves as a way to regain emotional support, while women often view solitude as an opportunity for personal growth and self-discovery.

Prepared and Capable
Older women often possess a unique strength: the ability to manage their finances and daily lives confidently.

Working for myself most of my life has given me a kind of independence I’m proud of. That self-reliance runs deep, and while I see it as a strength, I’ve learned that not everyone does.

Some men I meet seem unsure what to do with a woman who doesn’t need them to complete her.

Men with less experience with domestic responsibilities may find solo living a significant challenge later.

Resilience Woven Through Their Lives
For many women, resilience isn’t sudden—it’s been woven into their lives through years of connection, care, and quiet strength.

They draw on this inner well to stand steady and move forward alone.

And the men, when they find themselves alone in old age, must they face loneliness, or is there still space for growth, healing, and connection?

It doesn’t have to be that way.

Men can thrive independently by building genuine friendships, becoming emotionally self-aware, and learning to care for themselves inside and out. Even everyday tasks like cooking, cleaning, or grocery shopping can offer a surprising satisfaction. Though I admit, I’m often met with a skeptical glance whenever I say this.

Parting Thoughts on Love and Independence in Later Life
While studies suggest that older women handle solitude more gracefully, that doesn’t mean men can’t learn to thrive too.

Resilience, connection, and personal growth aren’t gendered—they’re learned.

With intention and adaptability, thriving alone is possible for anyone.

If you’re an older woman standing strong in your solitude, cherish it—it’s a sign of how far you’ve come.

And if you’re an older man feeling alone, take heart: the road doesn’t end here.

You can still build something beautiful, even in the quiet.

A Few Lighthearted Tales from My Dating Adventures

“I love where I live!” Tom said proudly during our conversation. “They serve me three meals a day.” From that alone—and the mention of recent surgeries—I gathered that Tom was likely living in an assisted-living facility. It also made me suspect he might be a bit older than the age listed on his profile.

“When I was younger,” Mark admitted, “poor financial habits cost me millions. I assumed I had time to recover—and I did, to some extent. It was hard work and cost me more in the long run, but I believed I could bounce back. He paused, his tone more sober now. “These days, things are different. I have fewer resources and even less time to undo past mistakes. Growing older with financial insecurity isn’t just tough—it’s terrifying. Do you own your home?”

“At my age, I like to move quickly,” Clay shared during our coffee date. “I’m hoping to get married before the end of the year.” I thanked him for being honest and gently explained that I prefer to take my time, to get to know someone before making big decisions. He stood up soon after, said goodbye, and left. I paid for the coffee.

Aaron showed up to our lunch date prepared, with a printed list. “Here’s everything important to me,” he said, sliding the list across the table. Hobbies, food likes, preferred sex positions—you name it.” I returned the list, let him talk for an hour straight, and finished my lunch. No, he didn’t get my number.

It didn’t take long to spot the red flags with Trevor. His coffee order was wrong, and instead of letting it go, he lashed out at the barista and grumbled through every sip. Being rude to people in service roles? That tells me everything I need to know. No thanks.

Ryan spent the entire lunch criticizing both of his ex-wives. I’ve learned that when someone has nothing good to say about any of their past partners, it often points to a pattern—either in who they choose or in their inability to take responsibility. Either way, I was not interested in being that story’s next chapter.