This is actually a question I get asked all the time. And I get it! As late bloomers, we carry so much fear, shame, and embarrassment over our lack of romantic experience that it's easy to ruminate on how people will react to us. Sometimes our dread is compounded by life experiences— where we told someone in a moment of bravery and were only rewarded with a lackluster response.

I’d hide my notebooks behind my headboard, under my mattress, or in a box in our attic. I’d climb trees to secretly write and furiously scribble away. And with every successive story, I kept dreaming—like Anne Shirley or Jo March—of seeing my stories published someday.

I like to tell people that I accidentally didn’t start dating until the age of 32. Because, honestly, that's what it felt like: an accident. It wasn’t like I woke up each day and consciously told myself “Hm, Dating? Nah, not for me.” It was more that I just busy living life.