If Love Is a Potluck Assignment, What Are You Bringing?

Five questions to ask yourself to form deeper relationships.

Published December 05, 2024

illustration of smiley faces and hearts skewers on a serving plate

Sonia Pulido

I once dated a 70-year-old widower who promised to fulfill all my “wants, needs and desires.” That worked great when I wanted a martini or a back rub.

But when I wanted meaningful conversation about, say, any movie that had come out in the past 30 years, or any book ever written, or how he felt about his parents’ divorce when he was 10, he had no clue.

He liked me because I was blonde and sassy, like his late wife. I liked him because of the martinis and back rubs. Alas, that was not enough.

He failed what I call the “seven-layer dip test.” You know the popular appetizer seven-layer dip: you start with a base layer of refried beans, then add sour cream, guacamole, tomatoes, onions, shredded cheese and black olives. You need all the layers for a satisfying scoop experience.

Corny as it sounds, relationships are like that, too. The best ones allow the tortilla chip of your soul to go all the way down to the emotional equivalent of the refried beans. Depth is where the good stuff is.

I went on eHarmony and soon met my boyfriend of five years, a 77-year-old widower who has so many flavors, he’s a human Jell-O salad. And that brings me to the holidays when the layers of our lives get particularly heavy.

If you’re seeking love after 60, or you want more from your relationships, it’s time to get the real scoop and ask yourself these five questions:

What am I bringing to the table?

How well do you know yourself? Aristotle was right: “Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.”

As a journalist, I’ve spent a lifetime turning outward, observing and questioning. And I also turn inward, with tools learned in therapy. I know my strengths and weaknesses, and I know how a strength — I am open and forthright, for example — can also be a weakness. When I’m around people who prefer the security of small talk to the risks of straight talk, I can appear blunt.

At a holiday table, I bring charm and warm conversation but not usefulness — meaning, you’ll want to sit next to me but not ask me to load the dishwasher.

My closest friends are sensitive souls who spend time in self-reflection. They are seven-layer dips who have the vulnerability to reveal themselves, lumpy guacamole and all.

That’s why Mr. Two-Layer Dip was never meant to stay, and that’s OK.

Who is at your table? Diminishers or Illuminators?

“In every crowd there are Diminishers and there are Illuminators,” writes David Brooks in How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen. “Diminishers make people feel small and unseen."

They see other people as things to be used, not as persons to be befriended. They stereotype and ignore. They are so involved with themselves that other people are just not on their radar screen. Illuminators, on the other hand, have a persistent curiosity about other people.

They have been trained or have trained themselves in the craft of understanding others. They know what to look for and how to ask the right questions at the right time. They shine the brightness of their care on people and make them feel bigger, deeper, respected, lit up.”

What are your top values in life?

Kristin Kirk, a therapist in Davidson, North Carolina, gives her clients pep talks before the holidays if they must join family tables full of dysfunctional Diminishers. To avoid replaying old family baggage, Kirk suggests doing a “values inventory.”

“Get really clear about what you most value in life and in yourself and in relationships,” she says. If you know yourself and have clearly defined your values, it’s easier to set boundaries with relatives who don’t honor your values.

Her top value, she says, is truth — “seeking truth and honesty, that’s an organizing principle in my life.”

My top value is personal freedom. I don’t want to tell you what to do, and I don’t want you to tell me what to do. I remind myself of this core value when I veer into codependency — my tendency to give too much.

Fitting in vs. belonging: Do you have the courage to be known?

It takes courage to be known, to state openly: this is who I am, this is what I value, and this is what I bring to the table.

Are you willing to say things and not worry about the reaction? I’m not talking about nasty things here. I’m talking about personal things, subjects that make us feel so deeply human they strike awe or wonder. Are you willing to state your views?

If you are dating, you will waste a lot of time and heartache if you lose yourself by trying to “fit in” with a partner.

“Fitting in” is the greatest barrier to belonging, according to author Brené Brown. “Fitting in says, ‘Be like them to be accepted.’ Belonging says, ‘This is who I am. I hope we can make a connection,’” Brown explained in a Today show interview about her 2021 book Atlas of the Heart.

How do you show up in a room?

“Each of us has a characteristic way of showing up in the world, a physical and mental presence that sets a tone for how people interact with us,” Brooks writes in his book. “Some people walk into a room with an expression that is warm and embracing; others walk in looking cool and closed up.”

How we show up and how deeply we see people determines how deeply we are seen.

“Being an Illuminator, seeing other people in all their fullness, doesn’t just happen,” Brooks writes. “It’s a craft, a set of skills, a way of life.”

If you bring illumination to the table, you’ll always find a chair.

Have any of you found love later in life? Let us know in the comments below.

Jan Tuckwood is an award-winning journalist who was associate editor and revenue content director of The Palm Beach Post for 30 years. She’s also a former fashion editor of The Denver Post, and her work has appeared in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, the Los Angeles Times, the Washington Post and Glamour magazine, among other publications. She is the editor of five books, including the official history book of Palm Beach County, and she is the co-author of Too Young to Be Old, the 2022 memoir of Diane Gilman, HSN’s “Jean Queen.”