I’m still open to love.

Yes, even the kind that starts on a dating app, even the awkward chats and the exhausting first questions: What do you do? What are you looking for? Are you a dog or a Cat person?

But here’s what I’ve come to realize lately:
The issue isn’t dating. It’s the weight I sometimes place on what should come out of it.

Because dating doesn’t always have to lead to “forever.” Sometimes it just leads to something small and beautiful . A moment, a story, a lesson. Sometimes we meet people who remind us we’re still capable of connection. And that’s enough.

I’ve been slowly lowering the expectations, not of who I meet, but of what must come out of it. And in doing so, I’ve made room for more honest conversations, more laughter, more being present. I’ve found myself open to the idea that depth doesn’t always require longevity.

I keep coming back to this story, not too sure why:

In 2021, I was at the airport in Sicily, standing in line for one final cannoli before my flight. I knew it wouldn’t taste like the ones I had on the pretty streets of Taormina, but I had this irrational urge for one more. A stranger standing next to me caught my hesitation and smiled:
“We’re about to order the worst cannolis of the trip. Let’s get every flavor and try them all.”

So we did. We sat on the crowded floor of the terminal, laughing at the overly sweet, barely authentic versions of something that once tasted like a dream. We ranked the flavors ( they had bubblegum cannoli, no joke), shared bites, and judged them harshly, just like we were on some Italian version of Bake Off.

And then they called his flight number at the gate.
He looked at me and said he wouldn’t mind missing his flight.
I told him to go.

I didn’t catch his name. Never exchanged numbers. Never saw him again. But I remember him. I smile every time I think of that airport floor. That cannoli. That connection.

And it reminds me that love, or at least something like it , shows up in these small, unexpected moments. It doesn’t always arrive dressed as “The One.” Sometimes, it’s a stranger with sugar on his fingertips and a flight to catch.

Still, I know one day I’ll have a thousand cannoli stories with someone I can age gracefully (or chaotically) with. Maybe we’ll settle. Maybe we’ll keep moving. Maybe we’ll meet at Gate 12 and never make it to Gate 14.

If we’re meant to cross paths, we will.

Until then, I’ll keep showing up , on apps, in cafés, at airports.
Willing. Open. Excited for a connection.

And occasionally, for another cannoli.