I'm recently out of a twelve-year relationship.

I'm recently out of a twelve-year relationship. I'm a fifty-five-year-old gay man, and I don't know where to start. I used to have a nice body. I think I'm still good-looking, but when I go out with friends, I never meet anyone. Everybody is so young.

Signed, Need A Bear Hug

Dear Need A Bear Hug,

First of all, I’m going to gently suggest we retire that nickname. You’ve been through a twelve-year relationship, that’s a lifetime of shared routines, inside jokes, and probably a few arguments about where to eat. Coming out of that kind of bond isn’t just a breakup. It’s a full-body recalibration. So let’s start there: you’re not broken. You’re in transition. And transitions are messy, confusing, and often lonely.

Now, about the body. You say you used to have a nice one. I’m going to bet you still do, maybe not the same one, but one that’s lived, one that’s earned its stories. And if you’re still good-looking (your words, not mine), then let’s not bury the lead. You’ve got something to work with.

As for going out and not meeting anyone? That’s not a failure. That’s data. You’re showing up. You’re trying. You’re noticing. And yes, the crowd might skew young, but that doesn’t mean you’re invisible. It just means you’re in the wrong room for the kind of connection you’re craving.

So where do you start? You start by remembering that you’re not auditioning. You’re not trying to be twenty-five again. You’re trying to be fifty-five with grace, humor, and maybe a little flirt left in the tank. You start by finding spaces that feel like you, not like the version of you your friends are chasing. That might mean skipping the loud bar and trying a gallery opening, a queer book club, a volunteer gig, or even a dating app that lets you filter for grown-ups.

And while you’re at it, be kind to your body. Feed it well. Move it in ways that feel good. Dress it in something that makes you stand a little taller. Not because you need to impress anyone, but because it reminds you that you’re still here, still worthy, still very much in the game.

Loneliness isn’t a permanent state. It’s a signal. It’s your heart saying, “I’m ready for something new.” And that’s not sad. That’s brave.

Best Regards, Uncle Gary