This won't be the first date. But the first love.
I'm not waiting for a prince on a white horse. I'm waiting for a real one. Sincere. With eyes that will be at peace. With hands that will make me feel at home. With a heart that will see mine as it is: with experience, with dreams, with deep feelings.
I'm not afraid that this will be the first time. On the contrary, I know that first love at a conscious age is different. It's when you're no longer playing a role. You're not embellishing. You're not trying to please — you just are. And someone sees the real you — and chooses you.
I won't consider this a defeat. This is my story.
The world really likes to impose: they say, by 30 you need to find "yours", get married, have children, build a "life". But what if my life begins at 40?
What if true love comes when I'm most ready to receive it?
Maybe I wasn't waiting for time, but for a person.
I believe that the meeting will happen.
Not because it "should". But because I am open. Ready. Mature. And I don't need to prove anything anymore. I'm not looking for someone to "complete" me. I want to be with someone with whom we can be even more ourselves.
I want to share simple things: mornings with coffee. Conversations that never end. Touches that soothe. Eyes that understand without words. And laughter - lots of laughter.
This will be the first - and maybe the only one.
I'm 39. And I dream.
And I'm not ashamed to say it. Because a dream is power. And love - it comes at different times. To some - early. To some - late. But always - on time.
I know: my love is still ahead.
And when it comes, I will recognize it.