The Mid Life Dating Files 2025

When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?

Risky Business: Sharks, Snakes, and Questionable Life Choices (A Memoir in Progress)

When was the last time I took a risk?

Honestly… probably 10 minutes ago. Maybe sooner. It’s hard to say because at this point, I’m out here collecting risks like they’re airline miles—and I am platinum status.

Say yes before I fully understand what I just agreed to? Of course.

Take on one more thing when my schedule is already screaming for mercy? Naturally.

Dive headfirst into something slightly chaotic with minimal planning? That’s just called Tuesday.

At this stage, “taking a risk” isn’t an occasional decision—it’s a personality trait.

And you know what? It usually works out. Not always in the clean, polished, “everything went exactly according to plan” kind of way—but more in the “well… that escalated quickly and now I have a story for life” kind of way.

And honestly? Those are the best outcomes.

Because let’s be real—playing it safe your whole life only guarantees one thing: a front-row seat to your own “what if?”

What if I had tried?

What if I had gone for it?

What if I had just jumped instead of standing there overthinking it for the next five years?

Couldn’t be me. I do not vacation in “what if land.” Sounds boring. No snacks. Hard pass.

Now let’s talk about my very specific—and apparently confusing—brand of risk-taking.

I am the girl who LOVES sharks.

Not in a “wow, they’re fascinating from behind a screen” kind of way. I’m talking full-on, sign-me-up, let’s-go-cage-diving-off-the-coast-of-Africa-or-somewhere-equally-exotic energy.

Great whites? Yes.

Cold water? Fine.

Being lowered into the ocean in what is essentially a metal snack box? Let’s do it.

For the record, I have already swam with sharks multiple times. Not great whites… yet. But don’t worry—they are sitting comfortably at the top of my bucket list, just waiting for their moment.

HOWEVER. (And this is where people lose all respect for me.)

I am also the same person who will absolutely unravel over a snake.

Not a giant, aggressive, nature documentary kind of snake.

I’m talking about a small, minding-its-own-business, probably-more-scared-of-me-than-I-am-of-it snake.

Immediate panic.

Zero logic.

Full evacuation of the area.

And people LOVE to call me out on this.

“So let me get this straight… you’re not afraid of a massive, human-eating, bite-you-into-pieces apex predator… but you’re terrified of a tiny snake?”

Yes. That is correct. Thank you for summarizing my personality.

I will willingly swim with sharks.

But I will not—under any circumstances—casually walk past a snake like we’re equals.

We all have boundaries. Mine just don’t make sense to anyone but me.

In fact, my hatred of snakes has fully shaped my fitness routine.

Trail running? Absolutely not.

Hiking in warm weather? Hard pass.

Casually strolling through nature like I’m in a peaceful outdoor commercial? Couldn’t be me.

I run on solid ground. Pavement. Roads. Civilization.

And not just any part of the road—I’m talking middle-of-the-road energy. Because those no-shoulder backroads? Oh, they LOVE to host snakes right on the edge like it’s a front-row seat to my demise.

They are just out there… waiting. Plotting. Existing.

And I am not about to casually jog past and pretend everything is fine.

If I see one on the road? My entire run is over. Immediately. Done.

I turn around faster than the Road Runner. No hesitation. No goodbye. Personal record speed in the opposite direction.

Workout complete. Survival achieved.

But this is what I mean—taking risks doesn’t always look logical. It doesn’t always come with a neat explanation. Sometimes it just comes with a gut feeling that says, “This might be a terrible idea… but also… let’s go.”

And let’s be honest about one more thing…

There’s a very high probability I’ll be taking these risks with a margarita or a glass of wine in hand. Because obviously.

Margaritas just make everything more fun. They add a little sparkle to questionable decisions and just enough liquid courage to say, “You know what? Yes. I will sign that waiver.”

Am I saying the margarita is responsible for the risk? No.

Am I saying it helps me commit to it with enthusiasm? Absolutely.

Some people overthink.

I occasionally just sip… and proceed.

And here’s the thing—I am going to cage dive with a great white one day. It’s happening. Spirit Water has already mentally booked the trip (and probably ordered a margarita for the boat ride out).

And yes, I understand the assignment. I know how that sounds.

And if, for some wildly unfortunate reason, that particular risk does not go according to plan… well…

Let’s just say it worked out BAD.

But also? People will talk about it.

“She really loved sharks…”

“She said she was going to do it…”

“And she absolutely did… with a margarita in hand.”

I mean… if you’re going to go, at least go out memorable.

(Too much? Maybe. But also… accurate.)

All jokes aside, this is why I’ll always choose the risk.

Because best case scenario? You create unforgettable experiences.

Worst case scenario? You create unforgettable stories.

Either way—you’re living.

You’re growing.

You’re collecting moments that actually mean something.

You’re becoming the kind of person people describe as “well, she’s definitely not boring.”

And let’s be honest—no one has ever said,

“Tell me more about that time you stayed comfortable and everything went exactly as expected.”

Exactly.

And I’d be lying if I said my alter ego, Spirit Water, wasn’t absolutely thriving in this lifestyle. She’s bold. She’s adventurous. She’s probably the one booking the shark dive while I’m still pretending to “weigh the pros and cons.”

We trust her judgment. Mostly.

So here’s where I land:

You only live once.

So you might as well make it interesting.

Jump in.

Take the chance.

Say yes.

Sip the margarita.

Swim with the sharks (literally, if you’re me).

Avoid the snakes like your life depends on it (also literally, if you’re me).

Because whether it turns out amazing or slightly unhinged, at least you won’t be left wondering what could have been.

And if nothing else… you’ll have something really, really good to write about.

Spirit Water Disclaimer:

Decisions made under her influence may include spontaneous travel, questionable bravery, signing waivers, running in the middle of the road to avoid snakes, and ordering a margarita before, during, and after said decisions. Proceed accordingly.

Carpe Diem, friends. Let’s make life a little less boring.🍷🏃🏻‍♀️🦈🐍🍹