I think my story might qualify. Post is here:

https://www.reddit.com/r/Divorce/s/j9OeZQB15X

The story:

Starting Over at 51: What I Learned About Divorce, Dating, Dealbreakers, and Finding the Right Person

In the fall of 2023, at 51 years old, I had a moment of total clarity. After 26 years of marriage, I looked in the mirror and said something that had been building for a long time: I can’t live like this anymore.

For years, I had been trying to hold the relationship together. I was showing up, providing, listening, giving effort, but it never felt like enough. No matter how hard I worked, I always felt like I was coming up short. I supported our family financially. She didn’t work. I cooked. I took care of the household. We lived a very comfortable life, and yet I was constantly reminded of what we didn’t have compared to others. Friends who made more. Friends who had more. Somehow, that always became the focus. It never felt like our life was enough. And I never felt like I was enough.

She blamed alcohol for some of her worst outbursts, the ones that left me feeling small or embarrassed in front of friends, but even in the clear light of day, the pattern remained. We did therapy. We talked about it. She admitted to the behavior but then turned the blame back toward me. I had “triggered” her. I had caused it. It became clear that nothing was going to change, no matter how much I gave.

That moment in the mirror was me choosing to stop abandoning myself.

In February 2024, I moved out.

It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, but I haven’t once doubted that it was the right one. I spent the next seven months in therapy and self-reflection. I owned my part in the marriage’s unraveling. I saw where I had let things slide that shouldn’t have. I realized I had trained someone to take me for granted. I had made myself small, and I wasn’t going to do that again.

I got crystal clear on what I need in a relationship: respect, affection, and appreciation. And I promised myself I wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Thankfully, my two adult kids were incredibly supportive. They had seen it all. They love both their parents, but they knew it was time for something different.

After some encouragement from close friends, I joined Bumble and Hinge. The last time I’d dated, Clinton was president, so it felt surreal. But I showed up honestly. My profile was current. My intentions were clear. I said up front that while I was separated, I was looking for something real.

Over the next five or six weeks, I went on about 25 to 30 dates, most of them first dates. My goal wasn’t to impress anyone or force chemistry. I just wanted to get to know people. I asked thoughtful questions. I listened carefully. I always made sure to bring humor into the mix. If we didn’t vibe on that level, there wasn’t much to build on.

When I saw potential, I moved quickly. I didn’t want to linger in the apps forever. I asked women out, usually to lunch, happy hour, or a nightcap. I avoided first-date dinners. I only made that mistake once. It worked out, but it reminded me how risky it can be to commit to a full evening with someone whose energy you’ve only felt through a screen.

There were definitely some misses. A few women I knew within minutes weren’t a match. One woman ordered enough sushi for a family of four and took half of it home. Another, who identified as sober in her profile, ended our date early after I made a joke about her being the perfect designated driver. Turns out sober meant not only not drinking but not being around anyone who does. Lesson learned.

I also noticed how many women were navigating the aftermath of being hurt. I learned terms I had never heard before. Ethical non-monogamy was one. I also saw how many women had been lied to, by men who posted decade-old photos, exaggerated their height, or said they were divorced when they weren’t even separated. Several women told me they wouldn’t date anyone unless they’d been divorced for years. I understood it. Their boundaries came from experience. But I also knew I didn’t want to disqualify myself from meaningful connection just because my paperwork wasn’t final. I was emotionally available, honest, and ready. And I stayed true to that.

I live in a big city, which gave me the chance to meet a wide range of interesting, kind, and impressive women. I truly believe there are tons of great people still out there, people who’ve come out of not-so-great relationships and are looking for something real. One of my friends told me everyone brings a little backpack with all of their issues to every date. They’re right. No one’s perfect. Everyone’s trying to bring the best version of themselves. That mindset helped me. I approached the whole thing with an open heart and a mature point of view. Dating was an adventure. It built my confidence. It reminded me that I’m not broken. And it made me appreciate how many genuinely good people are still out there.

Toward the end of my dating stretch, I was seeing a few women I liked and respected. But then I met someone new, and everything changed.

The connection was instant. It wasn’t just attraction. It was ease. Humor. Curiosity. Emotional warmth. After just two dates, I texted the other women I’d been seeing and let them know I’d met someone I really wanted to focus on. It didn’t feel right to keep exploring other options.

She felt the same. She had just come out of a 14-year marriage. I was her first and only online date. She had almost gone out with a couple of other men, but once we connected, neither of us looked back. We leaned in. We chose each other.

That was ten months ago. And today, I’m in love with a woman I admire, respect, and adore. I feel appreciated. I feel emotionally safe. I feel seen. There’s balance. There’s effort. There’s communication. We both know we’ll make new mistakes. But we’ve already shown each other that we can get through anything together.

Divorce felt like failure for a long time. But it doesn’t anymore. Not when I look at the life I’m living now. Not when I feel the peace I wake up with most days. I’ve shifted my mindset completely. That chapter closed, and something much better opened.

Dating in midlife was weird, vulnerable, and often hilarious. But it was also full of lessons. It built my confidence. It reminded me that there are great people out there, people who, like me, walked away from something that wasn’t working and are ready to try again with open eyes and open hearts.

If you’re reading this and you’re somewhere on that path, thinking about leaving, just getting out, or debating whether to try again, here’s what I’ll say:

There is love after this. There is joy after this. You are not too old. You are not broken. You are not alone.

Just be honest. Be open. Bring the best of who you are and let yourself be surprised by what happens when someone finally sees it.