The Dating Files / Dating After 50: David's Physical Priorities

You know when you go on a date thinking you’re going for a nice glass of wine and a chat, and you slowly realise you’ve accidentally wandered into someone else’s five-year relationship plan? That was this date.

David is early 60s, very well put together, very warm smile, very easy to talk to. The sort of man who looks like he knows how to choose a decent bottle of red and would absolutely insist on walking you to your car “just to make sure you’re safe.” He has that old-school charm that makes you feel noticed in a very deliberate, very focused way. We sit down, order drinks, do the polite opening chat — traffic, parking, how weird online dating is — and I’m thinking, Oh. This is nice. This feels comfortable.

Then, within what I would describe as barely enough time for the wine to arrive, he tells me I am incredibly attractive. Now, I am not ungrateful. I am a woman who enjoys a compliment. I am not made of stone.

But there was something about the way he said it — very intense, very certain — combined with the fact that his eyes seemed to be conducting their own independent tour of my upper torso, that made me feel like I’d accidentally turned up to an audition I didn’t know I’d applied for. And the thing is, he is charming while doing it. That’s the confusing part. He’s warm, smiley, funny. He’s not crude. He’s not sleazy. He’s just… extremely keen. Like someone who has skipped the trailers and gone straight to the main feature.

Within the first half hour, he explains — very proudly, like this is a strong selling point — that he is a very physical person. Very affectionate. Loves closeness. Loves touch. Loves connection.

And I’m sitting there thinking, I am affectionate too — what woman doesn’t love a good cuddle?

But… does it all have to come bundled with cosy moments, lingerie shopping, and an entire imagined romantic itinerary before we’ve even shared a dessert?

Because before I’ve even decided if I want to hug him or simply give him a very pleasant goodbye wave, he is already emotionally and logistically three steps ahead.

Then he says, in this very warm, generous, almost romantic voice:

“I love to take my lady shopping… especially for lingerie.”

And honestly, I nearly swallowed an olive whole.

Because it isn’t said in a creepy way. It’s said like he genuinely thinks this is thoughtful, generous, romantic. Like he’s picturing us strolling through a department store, him carrying bags, me laughing softly while choosing things that are definitely not sensible cotton multi-packs from M&S.

Meanwhile, in my head, I’m still on: Do I like his laugh? Does he say “holibobs”? Is he emotionally available or just very enthusiastic?

There is absolutely no breathing space.

It’s like trying to decide if you like a jumper while the shop assistant is already at the till removing the security tag and telling you it’ll look lovely with boots.

And here’s the part that turns it from funny into faintly disappointing. Because David, in my mind, has great potential.

He has wonderful manners. He’s well dressed. He’s attentive. He listens. He makes eye contact. He’s warm, engaging, and easy company.

But I can’t shake the feeling that I am not the only woman who has heard this script.

It feels polished. Rehearsed. Well-worn around the edges. Like lines that have worked before and will probably work again. And that’s the sad bit, really, because you want to feel like you’re being discovered — not auditioned for a role that’s already been cast. I left the date feeling amused, slightly overwhelmed, and weirdly fond of him in a “he means well but desperately needs a dimmer switch” sort of way.

Because he was lovely. Truly lovely.

Just… full volume from minute one.

And that, I think, is the thing about dating at this age that no one really warns you about.

For those of us dating after 50 (or any age for that matter), It’s not that we don’t want affection. Of course we do. We want warmth and closeness and someone to reach for our hand without making it a performance. We want cuddles and chemistry and the comfort of being wanted.

But we also want the build. The tiny pauses. The wondering. The luxury of sitting with a glass of wine and thinking, Ooh… maybe… let’s see. Because the getting-to-know-you bit isn’t a delay — it’s the point.

And when someone rushes past it, no matter how charming they are, it leaves you oddly bereft. Like turning up to Christmas morning and finding someone’s already taken the wrapping paper off and laid everything out neatly on the table. David had potential. He really did. But potential needs space to breathe. And if there’s one thing midlife has taught me, it’s this:

I don’t want a man who already knows exactly where we’re going.

I want one who’s happy to walk alongside me for a while and see if we even enjoy the view… preferably without already knowing my bra size.

Join us next time to meet "Patrick", the adventurous one.