I’m happy to be sixty and I’ll tell you why.

I never expected to be so happy about turning sixty. When I turned forty or even fifty, I know I didn’t say, “Can’t wait to be sixty.” But here I am—entering the third act of life. I’ve heard people say, “This is the third act of your life.” Is there an assumption that I’ll live to be ninety? It’s overly optimistic if you ask me since none of the men in my family surpassed eighty-five. My father passed away at fifty-three—cancer in the nineties left him little chance of a third act.

Medicine may help extend life down the road, but if DNA has the final say, ninety feels like a long shot. If I factor in sleep and naps, which I will do, then I’ve got a good twelve years, and I better make them count.

Mark, you said you would tell us why you’re happy to be sixty, not bum us all out. We have a lot of @substack to read. Get to the point.

When I earned my later-life doctorate in clinical psychology in 2007, I left with a collection of great books, one of which is Adaptation in Aging. While mostly data-driven, it offers compelling insight into how couples adapt or don’t adapt as they age. A medical challenge, like a stroke, can shift the dynamics of a couple. Dreams may diverge—one envisions cruising the country in an RV or climbing Machu Picchu, while the other prefers quiet sunsets and writing the great American novel.

A few years ago, my wife and I realized we have different priorities—she invests in our home’s beauty, while I prioritize travel and experiences. I’ve traveled solo to Morocco and Portugal, with Amsterdam and Prague planned for 2025. Those are big bucket-list trips, but in daily life, we share a 5 AM coffee before she heads to yoga and I retreat to my art studio. I once believed couples had to do everything together, but I’ve learned that being true to ourselves strengthens our relationship. To me, this is sixty. We joke, saying, “I love that for you,” or “You’ll have more fun if I don’t go.”

Being true to yourself isn’t about striking it rich with a bestselling novel-turned-movie. It’s about living with intention, pursuing what makes you happy, and no longer postponing what matters. The third act is also about learning to say no. No thanks, that’s not a good use of my time—I’d rather spend my limited vacation on something meaningful. I’m not suggesting this is what you say to your mother when she invites you home for the holidays. She might think you are rude. I’ll let you massage the message to your mother.

I’m just saying that at sixty, I’ve survived the challenging chapters and celebrated the wins. Isn’t this what we should be doing? How do you see your third act? Is it a romcom, an action thriller, are you finding love or learning to love again? Whatever it is, I hope it aligns with your true self—not the version that pleases others or chases likes.