A Real Story

My husband Ron died in 2019 after thirty-four years together, and I didn’t touch a dating app until my daughter basically installed OurTime on my phone for me during Thanksgiving, muttering something about how I couldn’t just talk to the crossword puzzle forever. I filled out the profile in about ten minutes, used a photo from my niece’s wedding where I actually looked happy, and then didn’t open the app again for three weeks because I was terrified.

The first man who messaged me was named Gary, 61, retired from the postal service, and within our second conversation we were arguing — genuinely arguing — about whether tuna casserole needs crushed potato chips or breadcrumbs on top. It went on for forty-five minutes. I hadn’t laughed that hard since before Ron got sick. We met for coffee at a diner near the community college, and Gary showed up twenty minutes early, already seated, with a folder of Yelp reviews he’d printed out to prove his casserole opinion was the objectively correct one.

Nothing romantic came of Gary and me, as it turned out — he was recently divorced and clearly not ready, and I could tell within the hour. But that ridiculous conversation reminded me I still knew how to flirt, still had opinions worth defending, and wasn’t just “Ron’s widow” to everyone I met. Six months later I matched with a retired firefighter named Dale who agreed breadcrumbs win, no contest, and we’ve been together for two years now. I tell people the app didn’t find me love right away — it found my personality first, which turned out to be the thing I actually needed back.