The Mid Life Dating Files 2025

If you could have something named after you, what would it be?

If I Could Name Something After Me… (Spoiler: It’s an Island and You’re Probably Not Invited)

If I could name anything after myself, I wouldn’t go small. No benches. No streets. No “Christy Lee Memorial Water Fountain” tucked behind a courthouse.

No ma’am.

I would name an entire island after me: The Isle of Christy Lee.

And not just any island—a dramatic, postcard-perfect, slightly over-the-top, “how is this even real?” kind of island. The kind where the water sparkles like it knows it’s being watched, and the breeze gently whispers, “You’ve made it.”

Naturally, I would relocate all my family and closest friends there—because what’s the point of ruling an island if you can’t occasionally tell your people, “You’re welcome for this lifestyle”?

Transportation? Oh, I’d have that covered.

A private jet named Christy Lee.

A yacht named… you guessed it… Christy Lee.

(Brand consistency is important when you’re building an empire.)

Once you arrive on the island, you’ll notice something immediately: everything is named after me. Every road, every building, every slightly unnecessary but fabulous feature.

“Where are we meeting?”

“Oh, just down the road at Christy Lee Boulevard, next to Christy Lee Lagoon, across from Christy Lee’s Slightly Fancy Snack Shack.”

It keeps things simple.

At the center of it all would stand my crown jewel: Castle Christy Lee. Massive. Gorgeous. Slightly intimidating in a “she probably has dragons” kind of way.

Which brings me to the dragons.

Yes, I will have dragons.

They’ll either rise dramatically from the ocean depths or emerge from beneath the castle like they’ve been there all along, just waiting for their moment. And of course, they’ll be completely loyal to me—because every island queen deserves a little mythical backup.

Now let’s talk amenities.

The pools? Stunning. The kind that make you question every life decision that didn’t lead you here sooner.

The bars? Legendary. Flowing with wine, whiskey, margaritas—you name it.

The food? Endless. Cheeses, guacamole, salsa, and somehow that one perfect snack you didn’t even know you wanted but now can’t live without.

Basically, if a genie granted wishes, my island would be what happened when someone said, “Just give me everything.”

But—and this is important—not just anyone can show up.

Oh no.

You don’t just wander onto the Isle of Christy Lee. You have to be special. Handpicked. Approved by the very exclusive and highly selective (and possibly imaginary) Christy Lee Admissions Committee.

Because while it’s a paradise… it’s a curated paradise.

And here’s where it really gets good.

This island wouldn’t just be beautiful—it would be prepared. Fully self-sustaining. We’d have bikes, boats, kayaks, farms, animals—everything we need to live our best lives completely off the grid.

No stress. No chaos. No “did you see the news?” conversations.

Just peace, sunshine, and the quiet confidence of knowing:

“We’ve already figured it out.”

So when the rest of the world is panicking, we’ll be on the Isle of Christy Lee… sipping something cold, watching the sunset, and maybe—just maybe—calling in a dragon for dramatic effect.

Honestly, if I’m going to dream, I’m going all in.

And if you’re lucky…

I might just save you a spot.