#453 - When It’s Easier to Get a Dog Than Risk Your Heart Again
I had an interesting exchange on social media recently.
Someone commented on one of my posts, “Just adopt a dog and you'll always have someone waiting eagerly with love for you when you get home.”
I responded, “That is the best choice for some people.”
She went on to share more about her life and why she had chosen to stop dating altogether. Too many disappointments. Too many letdowns. Too much emotional wear and tear. At some point, she decided it simply wasn’t worth it anymore.
I understand that decision more than people might think.
When I look back on my own dating experiences, I don’t see a flawless record. I see missteps. I see moments of poor judgment. I see times I pursued someone who wasn’t truly interested. I see a few obvious mismatches I should have recognized earlier. And yes, I’ve had my share of frustration and heartache.
There were seasons when I needed to step back, refresh my attitude, and recalibrate my expectations.
But when I zoom out, I don’t see a trail of failure. I see data or... learning opportunities.
Every relationship, every date, every awkward conversation taught me something. About myself. About what I truly value. About what I will and won’t tolerate. About the kind of partnership that actually aligns with who I am becoming.
I never blamed my negative experiences entirely on the women I dated. That would have been easier. But easier isn’t always wiser.
Instead, I tried to ask, What can I learn from this?
What did I miss?
What did I ignore?
What was I hoping would change?
Over the years, as I’ve worked with singles navigating midlife dating, I’ve seen something consistent: attitude matters more than most people realize.
There are those who, despite real disappointment, maintain a grounded optimism. Not naïve. Not desperate. Just steady. They focus on what they want. They learn from what didn’t work. They keep moving forward without letting every bad experience define the entire journey.
And then there’s another camp.
The ones who understandably grow weary. Who begin to expect disappointment. Who look for red flags before they look for possibility. Who tell themselves they’re “just being realistic.”
But when we consistently focus on what we don’t want, we become highly skilled at finding it. Every minor misstep confirms the story. Every imperfect interaction becomes proof. And eventually, it feels safer to opt out entirely.
A dog doesn’t reject you.
A dog doesn’t ghost you.
A dog doesn’t challenge your growth or expose your blind spots.
There’s nothing wrong with choosing a simpler life. For some, that truly is the right path. Peace and companionship come in many forms.
But for those of us who still feel that quiet pull toward something more — a shared life, shared faith, shared purpose — the easier path isn’t always the fulfilling one.
I believe God designed us for connection. Not just comfort, but covenant. Not just companionship, but growth. And growth almost always requires risk.
Dating, especially in midlife, isn’t for the faint of heart. You carry history. So does the person sitting across from you. There are scars, responsibilities, habits, and hard-earned independence on both sides.
It would be simpler to avoid the complexity.
But simplicity and significance are rarely the same thing.
If you’re feeling burned out right now, I understand. If you’ve thought about closing the chapter altogether, you’re not weak for feeling that way. Taking a break can be wise. Reassessing your patterns can be healthy. Protecting your peace matters.
Just be careful that temporary fatigue doesn’t turn into permanent resignation.
Hope doesn’t have to be loud or dramatic. Sometimes it’s just a quiet decision to stay open. To learn. To adjust. To keep becoming the kind of person who can recognize and build something extraordinary when it finally appears.
You’re not alone in the frustration. And you’re not foolish for still wanting love.
If you’ve ever wrestled with some of these same questions — about patterns, about mindset, about what healthy partnership actually looks like — I explore many of those lessons more deeply in my book, Dating Backward. It’s a reflection of my own journey, the mistakes, the growth, and the clarity that came with time.
Wherever you are on the path — hopeful, tired, or somewhere in between — I hope you choose thoughtfully. Not out of fear. Not out of exhaustion. But out of alignment with the life you truly want.
Because sometimes the bravest choice isn’t getting a dog.
It’s keeping your heart open — wisely.