OPINION
When I signed up for dating apps for the very first time in my mid-50s, I was given a lot of advice: some I requested, most was unsolicited, and some was definitely more helpful than others. Here’s the advice (and warnings!) I wish I’d been
What it’s like using dating apps in your 50s: Advice from Coast’s Lorna Riley
By Lorna Riley
NZ Herald·
7 mins to read
Coast Days host Lorna Riley, pictured on a recent trip to Niue, shares her advice and warnings for using dating apps.
Opinion by Lorna Riley
AdvertisementAdvertise with NZME.
Even more importantly, I quickly realise I’d like a partner who is at the same life stage as me. I’m financially secure with a career I love, and I’m 10 years off the retirement age. I’d love to meet someone in the same boat (and even better if they actually own a boat. Jokes! Sort of.) My children (and granddaughter) are my top priority, and any potential partner would have to understand that. With regret, I swipe left on anyone who doesn’t have children. Perhaps my Mr Right really is an unemployed actor of no fixed abode, but I suspect not, so it’s a no to those matches too.
Accidental catfishing
The photos you put on your profile really do matter. A fun shot of me in a Harley Davidson jacket, about to hop on a hog, results in several messages from enthusiasts wanting to talk motorbikes (“Sweet ride, babe!”). I lamely reveal I was a pillion passenger just once on a charity ride, thus pouring a bucket of cold water on any romantic sparks. I quickly change the pic. I also make sure all of my photos are PC (post-cancer) - if you’re expecting early 2022 Lorna of the long blonde hair, you may be sadly disappointed in the post-chemo crop I now sport, so all pics are from this year. Mind you, this leads one amorous gentleman to tell me I look like a dominatrix. I tell him why I have this hairstyle; he continues to press the point. I resist the urge to tell him he’s a bad, bad boy and move on.
Overwhelming
I’ll be honest, I wasn’t prepared for the number of matches thrown up daily. With Bumble, it’s up to the woman to make the first move, and if you’re on the basic (free) membership like me, you only have 24 hours to make that move. I’m busy (and still rather hesitant), so many matches expire before I even view them. Was my soulmate one of them? I may never know. And with Hinge, my messages pile up faster than I can answer them. At one stage, I feel so overwhelmed I delete my profiles, only to reinstate them a few weeks later when I feel I can heed the advice that you don’t have to reply to everyone.
Polyamory
Perhaps I’ve led a sheltered life, but I’m surprised how many profiles are from men in “committed but open” relationships. No judgement, but I’m not great at sharing; however, I can’t help but wonder (after noting the blurry, outdated pics and vague personal details) whether some of these men have partners that are, in fact, unaware they’re in an open relationship. It’s a no from me.
You’re not there to make friends
I have a large friend group, and like many people, struggle to see those friends as often as I’d like to. So I’m not looking for someone to hang out with on a platonic level. However, I connect with one man who has similar interests - we have dinner together a couple of times, but I know there’s no potential for romance and I tell him so, but that I’d like to be friends. We then go to a show together that we both want to see, and attend a quiz night, enjoyable occasions; however, things sour when he expects something more despite my honesty. We are no longer friends.
AdvertisementAdvertise with NZME.
Beware the unsolicited pics
Honestly? I thought this was a myth. Or something only fine young specimens might indulge in with like-minded people. But believe me when I say that there are plenty of unsolicited (and unflattering) pics of 50-plus male junk being sent to women on dating apps as we speak. Stop it. Just - stop.
Beware the ulterior motive
I was enjoying chatting with one man - until he mentioned he wanted to pick my brains about how he could get into radio. The kiss of death before I even got to thinking about kissing him.
Be kind
Common courtesy is, sadly, anything but common. The best advice I can give here is to treat others how you would like to be treated, and to ignore unkind or rude messages as best you can. One man, after an exchange of pleasantries, tells me he has made a connection elsewhere so won’t be messaging me again. I’m pleased for him, and thankful for his thoughtfulness. It’s a rare thing, it seems.
Ideal first meeting
This is debatable, but for me, the first meeting is not a date. It’s a chance to see if the first sparks of interest generated by some online chat can be replicated in person, if there’s any commonalities, if we can share a laugh and weigh up any relationship potential. For this reason, all of my first meetings are at a cafe on a Sunday morning. Nice and casual - and an opportunity to see how each man treats wait staff (always a good measure, I think). And how did those first meetings go? Well, there’s one who love-bombs me after our first coffee, texting morning and night, until he suddenly stops. “Everything okay?” I ask. “Sorry,” he says, “some drama at work - can I call you tomorrow when your show finishes, say 3pm?” “That’d be great,” I say. Cue tumbleweeds: that was three months ago, so I’m thinking I can write this one off to experience. Then there’s the lovely man with the interesting past who adores his adopted son; we have a perfectly pleasant coffee, but I’m unsure if I want to see him again and then he gets Covid. After a short while, our messages just fizzle out, and for both of us, I think this is fine.
Keep the faith
One Saturday night, I’m sitting at home alone: my children are out, living their best lives. I’m sitting with a bowl of icecream, binge-watching Netflix, feeling a little melancholy. Then it strikes me: maybe I’m living my best life. Maybe this is my future, destined to be on my own - and I realise I’m okay with this. I’m happy with my life, with who I am. The melancholy lifts, just as a new message pops up. It says “Don’t forget to dance, don’t forget to smile.” It’s a Kinks lyric, and I remember the verse: “And all of you friends are either married, vanished/Or just left alone/But that’s no reason to just stop living/That’s no excuse to just give in to a sad and lonely heart.” Perhaps one more coffee date can’t hurt.
I pick up my phone and reply…
The third part of our Dating, Again series continues next Monday.
