Today is a special day. Today is the day that my brother Jeff turns 40.

Now I reached that inevitable milestone a few years ago so, as any big brother would do, I need to pass out some advice on turning 40.

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Turning forty is a time in our lives when we really don’t quite know how to feel. Think about it…

When we were 20 we tried to act like we were 30.

When we were 30 we acted like we were 25

When we turn 40, is it time to start to act more age appropriate?

They are saying that 40 is the new 30. I am not really sure what that means but it does give us permission to act any way we want when we hit the big 40.

Yet, try as we might, the affects of 40 years on this earth are not easily avoided. Denial will not hide the fact that there are extra hairs growing from your ears and eyebrows.

As 40 is upon you, here are 7 things to keep in mind

1. Your reaction time might start getting a bit slower.

I know that is hard to believe but try this. Go play basketball with the local college team and see if your first step is as affective as it once was. Now for the real test, try to play defense.

2. The Mirror Lies

I find it very interesting that I am the only one who does not look my age. I am sure I could pass for a 30 year old. In fact, looking at my wedding pictures I don’t think I have aged much at all. Oh ya, the Mirror Lies.

3. Your dream of becoming a professional athlete should end

In case you have not noticed, there are not many professional athletes who are 40 or over. In fact, 35 is considered an old man in the sports world. So if you still have aspirations about signing up for open try-outs with your local professional sports club, you might want to put that one to rest.

4. Your dream of staying in shape needs to be in full swing

Just because you may never play left wing for the Calgary Flames it does not mean you cannot be an athlete at 40 and beyond. My father is 72 years old and was so excited to show me the new computer he bought for his road bike. It keeps track of his speed, mileage, cadence and even the temperature. I guess he plans on doing some cycling this summer.

5. Your brain needs to exercise

We have all heard about the need to exercise our bodies, especially as we hit middle age. But did you know that your brain needs exercise too. Read, play sudoku or try to do anything to stimulate your brain cells. Just so you know, watching movies all evening does not exercise the brain.

6. Bi-focals and hearing aids might be right around the corner

As we age, our bodies do wear out. The great thing is that we live in a time and place where hearing and vision loss, while inevitable, does not have to inhibit our quality of life. Imagine 100 years ago where you had to endure bad hearing and poor eyesight. Not any more.

7. Your loved ones will still love you

No matter your age or how you are feeling, those who care for you will always care for you. This seems to be unconditional.

Many people have a hard time moving into the second half of their lives. How have you / are you dealing with this time of transition?

One thing I forgot to tell you about is something I announced at my birthday dinner back in October: my theme for my forties. That’s right, this next decade of mine is going to have a theme. And it is…CONNECTION.

I started thinking about it last spring, when the word “connection” seemed to be in front of me wherever I went. At my job at a media company, we questioned who was king these days – was it content? Consumers? Or maybe it was all about connection. On Facebook, I was making new connections daily. My youngest listened to “Barbie’s Diamond Castle” song “Connected” over and over. Two friends who tried online dating services seemed to be making connections that were going to go the distance (two weddings to go to this summer!) And one day, when I wandered into an old church down in the financial district, I found a piece of paper in the back of the pew – it was called a “connection card.”

As human beings we seem to long to connect — with friends, with job contacts, with pets, with a soulmate, with God. You hear about the importance of touch in human development – that babies who live in orphanages with bottles propped in the crib rails and no one to cradle them experience a host of psychological consequences. We need to connect physically – a hug, a pat on the head, a kiss — but we long for emotional connection too.

As I enter my fifth decade, I’m craving connection. I don’t know about you, but over the past decade, I’ve been so busy – ya’know, creating life and all, changing diapers, getting kids into school, traveling for work, buying Ikea furniture, cursing broken Ikea furniture, helping with homework, selling a home, buying a home, moving, going to dentist appointments that beget more dentist appointments (admitting that I don’t floss my kids’ teeth – I can barely get to my own), going to meeting after meeting, rushing to school, etc. — that there really hasn’t been a lot of time leftover for nurturing relationships.

What I really miss is the presence of female friends.

Gone are the days of the best friend that I met on my bike at the corner, and played with all day, and stayed for dinner, and begged our moms for a sleepover.

There’s no girl next-door to string a tin can across the driveway and see if it really works as a telephone…eventually just talking loud enough to span the twelve feet of gravel in between.

There are no college roommates – five girls and five closets full of clothes in one house — ready with a shoulder to cry on and a pint of ice cream or a bottle of Jim Beam, whichever the occasion warrants.

I know my friends are out there – I’ve recently emailed or talked on the phone with all three camps above: the play-all-day friend, the girl-next-door, the college roommates. And I’ve been fortunate to make new friends along the way. But still…

I feel lonely sometimes.

Everybody’s still there. And more have popped up. At school. At work. In the neighborhood. And it’s nice knowing they’re there – but it’s kind of like it’s nice knowing New York City is there when you live in the suburbs and rarely make the trek in.

I want to do more than have friends, I want to be a friend. I want to enjoy wine together, bond over chaperoning kids’ activities, laugh at the absurdities of life, help each other out, hang out in a house not fit for company, and generally be there in good times and bad.

Connection.

More from Kris

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So, there I was, still single at 40, feeling about as marketable as flesh-eating bacteria.

Dating at 40 is like having the measles at 40: It’s not terminal, just painful and a little embarrassing. Officially, I was a grown-up. I had an IRA and a mortgage. I didn’t need a husband to “complete me,” but I wanted to share my life with someone. Yet after a while, the thought of yanking on pantyhose for another pointless McDate held all the allure of passing a kidney stone.

I mean, let’s do the math. I’d been on Soul Mate Patrol since the Ford administration. I’d scaled the Boys-to-Men Food Chain, from high school and college steadies to 20-something flings, to having my heart sledgehammered in my 30s by the one I thought I’d marry. Next thing I know, I’m turning the Big 4-0, feeling like an adult with a full set of baby teeth, wondering how many more dates I can take before I roll up my uterus and call it a life.

Ironically, married friends envied my freedom. Others accused me of being “too picky.” (Hey, if you’re not picky about love, what should you be picky about? Waxed or unwaxed floss?) Then there were the smug, married-by-25 women who viewed me with pity, convinced I’d die one of those horrible spinster deaths: surrounded by cats, identified by dental records.

I’d been as proactive in searching for Mr. Right as one can be without tripping a restraining order. Well-meaning pals fixed me up with anyone who had a pulse and a prostate. I joined a gym. Tried a dating service. I went out with men of all ages, heights and hairlines. Some would swear they were smitten, then vanish, as if they’d entered the federal witness protection program. Others I liked, but they didn’t like me. Help! I’m trapped in a middle-school flashback.

By 40, I also hit the baby-shower wall. It got to the point where it just wasn’t worth two days of Haagen-Dazs self-medication to recover from them. Yep, nothing says “rock-bottom remainder” like being the only singleton in a room filled with women bonding over Diaper Genies.

Then, one September morning, after taking the summer off from a run of dates culminating with an engineer who spoke fluent Klingon, I received an e-mail from a stranger. The subject line (“We both know Teddy Teller”) was the only thing that stopped me from pressing “delete.” Teddy was my first boss after I graduated from Boston College. If they were friends, it seemed safe to read on.

John introduced himself as a single dad who worked with Teddy in Seattle. He suggested we correspond. Instantly, my default mode — hardened by two decades of dates-from-hell scar tissue — kicked in. He sounded sweet, so there must be something wrong with him. Cyclops, I decided.

After calling Teddy to confirm John wasn’t a serial killer, I thought, why not? He lived three time zones away. Nothing could possibly come of this.

I wrote back. We fell into a rhythm, like longtime tennis partners. Ping (he talked about his 9-year-old daughter, Ann). Pong (I told him about my dog, Spencer). Ping (he described the pain of divorce). Pong (I shared my dreams and regrets).

We wrote daily, conducting a 19th-century-style courtship, getting to know each other from the inside out. No in-person pheromones to distract us. No phone calls, either — the spell would be broken if he sounded like Elmer Fudd.

By late October, we’d grown too close to stay apart. John sent flowers for my birthday, and wrote, “This is ridiculous. I’ve got to meet you.” Taking a deep breath, theme from “Rocky” buzzing in my head, I typed, “You’re right,” and clicked “Send.”

The first hug felt like coming home. Within two days, we were talking marriage. Imagine that. My last serious relationship lasted three years and ended in a draw over commitment. Now, 36 hours after meeting, John and I were ready to take the leap, and it didn’t feel rash. It felt right.

That July, we married. Teddy was John’s best man. Ann was my bridesmaid. That was eight years ago, and I’m here to testify, if you’re 40 and single, check your spam catcher. Somewhere among those Viagra ads and Nigerian bank scams, you just might find what you’ve been looking for.

I always wondered, which is silver and which is gold? I don’t really like gold. So maybe one should be platinum. That would have more personal impact. But then I’m still left to ponder which is which. Certainly, platinum is worth more than silver. Some of my new friends are clearly worth more than my older friends. It’s all so confusing.

You see I’ve been having these quite vivid dreams about old friends. These are people that I haven’t spoken with in years. People who were once very good friends and are now just memories. On the one hand, I feel sad that I’m not really that close to some of these people anymore. But, on the other hand? Well, I can be realistic about the fact that friends sometimes come in and out of our lives. I think the fact that I’m turning 40 (oh so soon) has me constantly reminiscing about the last decade (and then some).

When I fall asleep, I think the dark recesses of my soul are telling me that I should get back in touch with a few of these friends. There is a common denominator to these friends about whom I’ve been dreaming. Aside from the fact that I’m bothered that we aren’t friends anymore, I’m more bothered by the fact that I think I was “wronged” by each of them. Our “falling out,” or “falling away” was caused by actions taken by these friends. These actions ultimately drove a wedge of separation that now has me dreaming about reconciliation.

But, is that the right thing to do? After all, in their absence, we’ve made new friends. Sometimes even better friends. Certainly friends who are more in touch with the ever-changing times of my life (and, I suppose, vice versa). I have some friends who will never, ever go away. I can pick up the phone and call (after years) and we can pick up as if we had been talking every Sunday. I don’t ever worry about those friends. I’m talking about friends that just *poof* disappeared. Something stupid was said and that was that.

I’ve long considered myself a pretty good friend. I have always been the guy that made the bigger efforts to stay in touch; never the guy who says, “but I called last.” I have always been the guy that would pull out the plastic and pick up the tab after a spectacularly fun evening. And, I have always been the guy that would make the tough phone calls in times of need. (Or, in one particular instance, the guy who would put up bail and go wait for my friend to “get out” in the most horrid of conditions.) I’ve never been the guy that blew off friends for relationships and so on.

Parenting brings incredible challenges in time management. And, the time only grows more scarce as the kids get older and the wide variety of activities get thrown into the mix. As a result, I think it’s important that I/we maximize what time we have by participating in the activities and adventures we love with the people we love. This, of course, means that it’s harder to maintain relationships with friends who are “work.” – regardless of how much history we have with them. When kids come into the picture, “history” is no longer enough of a reason for “effort.” When kids come into play, the friends who stick around do so because they “get it,” (and vice versa) and new friends are found because our kids are in the same schools, programs or whatever.

In the meantime, what to do with those few friends that do fall out of the day-to-day existence, but not quite off the radar altogether? I really don’t know. Certainly, if they came back into the fold, I’d find the time to stay in touch. Maybe I’ll just make the effort one last time. An email can’t hurt, right?

“You’re welcome. I just want you to have fun with it.”

“I know you don’t mean it, but I love you for saying it anyway.”

“No, I really DO want you to have fun with it!”

[looking at me quite sheepishly...] “I hope it doesn’t horrify you that I bought a guitar for my 40th birthday…”

“It doesn’t HORRIFY me. It just freaks me out. A LOT.”

Most people of any age find dating a daunting prospect. Most people, regardless of age, find that dating is a scary process that has to be endured in order to find someone they want to have a good relationship with – rather like having a painful procedure at the dentist in order to create a great looking smile! Where people over 40 find it more difficult is in the fact that when they dated earlier in their lives, things were different. There were social rules that have now changed – who dated who, who paid, expectations from a date, etc. This adds anxiety to the idea that they’re going to be the oldest person at the speed dating evening, or that they’ll be thought of as someone looking to pick up their child, rather than a date!

One basic rule about dating doesn’t change. Look for the type of man who attracts you. Don’t take your baggage on date! Don’t assume that all men are like the one that let you down. Don’t talk about him to the men that you date. It’s very possible that if you date a man in his 40′s, he will have a similar relationship story to yours! So start each dating experience as if it was your first date and don’t judge the person you’re out with against the way your last partner treated you.

Although dating after 40 is a different prospect to dating in your 20′s, make sure that your perception of the idea of dating at an older age isn’t getting in the way of the reality. You may not be the youngest participant in the dating game, but these days, you certainly won’t be the only oldest person who is looking for a relationship. Online dating has become more and more accepted for individuals of any age. So if you want to do some dating then now is the perfect time to start meeting people online.