Dating in Your 30s Is Not for the Faint of Heart: Lessons From the Circus

I am enough. I am love. I am not giving up.

Dating in your 30s is not for the faint of heart. It’s not the rom-com montage we were promised. It’s not wine dates under twinkle lights that end with a forehead kiss. It’s balancing carpools, work emails, school projects, and then staring at your phone like it’s a crystal ball because someone texted, “Hope you had a good day.”

This is not my first time writing about dating. One of my earliest blogs was about dating after divorce—navigating the awkward first dates, the polite rejections, the ghosting (oh, the ghosting). But this feels like a continuation, deeper this time. Because it’s not just about first dates anymore. It’s about the someone—the person who might not be “the one,” but who changes how you see love regardless. The one so many of us seem to encounter in some variation: charming, complicated, confusing, sometimes exhilarating, sometimes exhausting.

And here’s where it gets real: I’m a nurturer. I love hard. I love deep. I don’t play games, I don’t manipulate, and when I care, I give it my all. Sometimes that means I’ve left pieces of myself in places they didn’t belong. But I don’t regret loving big. Because love is the whole point, isn’t it?

Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that like Lorelai Gilmore (yes, I rewatch Gilmore Girls every fall, don’t judge me), I sometimes wonder: I have a good career, wonderful kids, a life that feels full—so am I allowed to want more? Am I allowed to want the missing piece? The unconditional, safe place to land? The person to laugh with at night and sip tea with in the morning?

The answer: yes. And while I wait, while I laugh, while I love—I’m still enough. And so are you.

Lesson #1: Waiting Is Its Own Sport 😤

Let’s be honest: waiting is brutal. Waiting for the text, the call, the plans that may or may not happen.

Even on perfect days—brunch with my cousin, sparkling water on the porch, chamomile tea in hand—my brain whispers: Will he reach out?

The lesson isn’t to stop waiting altogether. It’s to recognize that waiting doesn’t define me. It’s a blip, not my whole story.

Lesson #2: Humor Is My Lifeline 😂

Sometimes I stop mid-thought and think: Wow. I’m 34 years old. Is this really what dating looks like now?

I’ll get a meme, a random video, or a text so vague I feel like I need a decoder ring. And instead of spiraling, I laugh—because if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.

Humor is what saves me. It helps me see the absurdity in the circus and the chaos, and it reminds me not to take every confusing moment so seriously. Because honestly, sometimes the wildest part of dating in your 30s isn’t the people—it’s realizing you’re out here trying to make sense of other adults who still don’t know how to communicate their feelings.

Humor keeps me light. Humor keeps me grounded. Humor keeps me moving forward when the whole thing feels ridiculous.

Lesson #3: Boundaries Are Everything 💪

I used to be the first to text, first to call, first to contort my day to fit into someone else’s.

Spoiler: it left me drained, resentful, and still lonely.

Now? Boundaries are my superpower. I don’t confuse being available with being valued. I protect my time, my energy, and my joy like treasures. And guess what? People who value me respect those boundaries. People who don’t fade out naturally.

Lesson #4: My Life Doesn’t Pause 🌞

I used to live like my life was on “pause” until the right relationship showed up. Not anymore.

I sip lavender tea. I ride bikes with my kids. I laugh with family. I buy flowers just because. My joy isn’t postponed—it’s here now.

I live as though love is simply running late, not missing. And if someone shows up? They’ll join a life already full.

Lesson #5: Comparison Is a Thief 📱

Not comparison to strangers on Instagram—I know better than that. I’m genuinely happy when I see people thriving, building families, and loving life. I root for them.

But the comparison that steals from me? It’s with myself. With my own expectations.

At 34, I sometimes feel like I should be in a very different place. Like I should have already “arrived” at the relationship part of my story. Like I shouldn’t still be starting over, still learning the same hard lessons, still giving chances to people who may not deserve them.

That’s the comparison that hurts. The one that says, “You’re behind.”

But here’s the truth: I’m not behind. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. My story is mine, unfolding at its own pace. And the grace I extend to others? I deserve to extend it to myself too.

Lesson #6: The Bare Minimum Is Not Romance 🚩

Let’s stop confusing crumbs for a feast.

Respect, consistency, kindness—those are basics. Not fireworks. Not bonuses.

Romance is steady. It’s someone who shows up with words and actions that match. It’s not begging for texts like they’re lottery tickets.

Lesson #7: Kids Are the Ultimate Dating Filter 👩‍👧‍👦

Dating as a single mom changes everything. My kids are my filter.

If someone can’t handle me in soccer-mom mode—snacks, sweat, sideline life—they don’t deserve me sipping chamomile tea in Montréal.

That filter saves me time, and it protects what matters most.

Lesson #8: Red Flags Are Not DIY Projects 🚫

Once upon a time, I thought I could love someone into changing. I thought patience could turn red flags green.

But I’ve learned: I’m not anyone’s emotional handyman. If someone shows me who they are—flaky, inconsistent, cruel—I believe them. And I walk away.

Lesson #9: Self-Love Is Not Optional 💜

This is the anchor of it all. If I don’t love myself, dating feels like begging for scraps.

But when I choose myself—when I laugh, rest, pray, sip tea, journal, dance in my kitchen—I remember I’m already whole. Already loved. Already enough.

A partner adds joy, but my life is not waiting to begin.

The Lorelai Gilmore Moment 🎬

There’s a scene in Gilmore Girls where Lorelai admits she knows she has it all—a great daughter, a good career, a beautiful life—but still aches for that last piece: someone to love her unconditionally.

That’s me. I know I have blessings. I know I have people who love me deeply. But I still long for that missing puzzle piece: a partner to share it all with. Not because I need it to survive, but because I want it.

And yes, that want can feel heavy. It can feel like weakness. But it isn’t. It’s human.

The Bigger Picture 💡

So what do we do with this tension—the circus, the longing, the waiting, the laughter?

We keep going.We keep loving.We keep praying.We keep showing up for ourselves and others.

Because even if dating sometimes feels like games and riddles and chaos, I refuse to let it harden me. I refuse to stop believing in unconditional love.

I know I’m young. I know people say, “You have time.” But I also know this: my worth is not on hold. My joy is not postponed. My love is not wasted.

My Mantra 🧘‍♀️

💬 I am enough.

💬 You are enough.

💬 Our joy is non-negotiable.

💬 Our love—given freely and honestly—is never wasted.

Dating in your 30s may feel like a circus, but I’m not the clown. I’m the ringmaster. And my show? It goes on—with or without anyone else’s applause.

Your Turn: Have you had that “Lorelai Gilmore moment”? The one where you know your life is full, but you still ache for that missing piece? Share it in the comments—I promise you’re not alone.

💜 — Rochelly