Part 1: Uh… I think I might be gay?!
I realized I was gay in my early 30s. It completely blindsided me—like, I had zero warning. I was living with my common-law spouse in a home we’d bought together, working as a social worker at a local hospital, and living what I thought was my dream life. So how could I possibly be gay?
The day everything shifted seemed ordinary at first. I went to work, came home, had dinner with my spouse, and then headed out to a community class I had signed up for: an exploration of world religions. I’d been looking forward to it all week. I grabbed a green tea at Tim Horton’s (Canada’s Dunkin’ Donuts equivalent) and arrived early. Only one other person had arrived before me—a casually dressed woman with short hair and a make-up-free face. We were about the same age. The instructor greeted us warmly, and when I shook the other woman’s hand… BAM. It was like a literal jolt of electricity. I froze, stunned, utterly confused. I had never felt anything like it before.
As the class started, we did an icebreaker in pairs. I silently prayed to the universe that I wouldn’t get matched with her—and of course, fate had other plans. Our conversation flowed effortlessly. We had so much in common that it was thrilling… and terrifying. I left that class feeling a swirl of emotions: excitement, confusion, and anxiety all at once. Nothing romantic happened—both of us were in committed relationships—but I couldn’t stop thinking about her for weeks. Over time, I realized she was my “catalyst,” the person who nudged me toward the truth about my sexuality.
For an entire year, I didn’t tell anyone. I kept living my heterosexual life while quietly exploring my feelings in secret. I read books on hidden sexuality, took online quizzes, and joined private Facebook groups for late-in-life lesbians. I even created a fake Facebook account just to observe and learn. It didn’t feel right to hide this from my spouse, but I needed the space and time to understand myself fully.
Finally, in January 2017, I whispered to my therapist that I might like women—then immediately retracted it with a “maybe not.” But there was no un-knowing the truth once it had surfaced. I had spent months soul-searching and reconnecting with my intuition. I knew without kissing anyone that I was gay. The next person I told was my spouse. He was shocked but handled it with grace. We officially separated in March 2017, and I moved out six months later.
Those six months were an emotional rollercoaster. I came out to a select few friends and family, experiencing love and support—but also discomfort and awkwardness. I grieved not just my relationship but the identity I had known for decades. I felt scared for the future, wondering if I was making an irreversible mistake.
Part 2: Okay… I’m gay. Now what?
In August 2017, I bought a condo overlooking a bird sanctuary. For the first time, I lived alone and authentically. The year that followed was one of healing. I spent time with my puppy, Ollie, connected with nature, and allowed myself to breathe and grieve fully.
Eventually, I decided to start dating—a terrifying prospect after coming out later in life. I hadn’t dated in years and had never kissed a woman. I had no idea what type of woman I was attracted to, so I dove into dating apps, awkwardly navigating this new world.
My first few dates were… educational. One extroverted vegan I met had never been with women either. We connected through hours of conversation, but the first kiss—after four dates—was a disaster. I felt nothing. We both moved on soon after. I wondered constantly if I had made the wrong choice, if I had thrown away a stable life. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t ignore my truth.
I kept dating, facing rejections and mismatches, until one night at a queer dance event, I met a woman wearing a red tie and checkered Converse. There was immediate attraction, and when we kissed, it clicked—I was gay. Sadly, she wasn’t the one for me. Nor was the woman I dated for a year, whose relationship ended just as COVID-19 began. Suddenly, I found myself single, alone, and isolated during a global pandemic.
Part 3: A socially-distanced love story
After a few weeks of grieving my last relationship, I returned to dating apps, this time with low expectations. In May 2020, I matched with a paramedic. We started texting every day, sharing our values, childhood stories, and hopes for the future. It was unlike anything I had experienced; I had never connected with someone so fully before.
We went on our first socially distanced date on June 7, 2020, walking and talking for hours in a park. I knew within that first date that this was someone special—someone I could see marrying, which was a shocking thought for me, as I had never been interested in marriage before.
Our relationship blossomed quickly and deeply during the lockdown. We cooked together, shared late-night conversations, and spent long hours outdoors. I felt fully seen and known. Grounded and confident, our love moved fast—but in the best way. We got engaged in December 2020, much to our families’ support and excitement.
We bought a house in a new city and married in our backyard on June 7, 2021—exactly one year after our first date. Today, we live happily with our puppies, continue to build our entrepreneurial careers, and hope to start a family soon. I’ve also launched a business to support late-in-life LGBTQ+ individuals, turning my experiences into a meaningful career.
For anyone reading this—whether you’re coming out later in life or wondering if you’ll ever find love—know this: it’s possible. When we trust ourselves, follow our intuition, and take the leap, life can surprise us in the most beautiful ways. We are never too old, and it’s never too late.
