Dating in your 30s hits different. I’m sorry to say it, but it just does. It’s not because your face suddenly starts to sag and you wake up covered in scales. Nor is it because coupled-up friends start looking at you with sad eyes. It’s not even necessarily because you feel an instantaneous urge to become a mother and start hearing a strangely loud ticking sound wherever you go.
It’s none of the clichéd things, actually. At least it hasn’t been for me since I turned 30 in May—a fully fledged single woman without even a situationship to show for herself. I had nobody and nothing on the go; the roster was completely clear. And let me tell you: It felt fantastic.
Since then, the whole experience of dating has taken place in a different part of my brain, one that has far more awareness and compassion, as well as a lower threshold for games. Call it maturity, growth, or the fact that I’ve now been writing about this stuff for the better part of a decade, I don’t mind (so long as you don’t call it old age). Whatever it is, my single friends and I have entered this new era with a spring in our step when it comes to our love lives.
Gone are the insecurities that kept us tolerating flakiness and mixed messages, thinking we deserved no better. If a person we like lets us down, we don’t eviscerate them in the group chat and start posting warnings across social media. We simply move on, taking comfort in the knowledge they weren’t right for us. And if someone starts communicating exclusively in bird impressions over dinner, we’re out of there faster than you can say “twit twoo.” (This happened recently to a friend.)
I’m not saying it’s perfect. But since turning 30, I’ve experienced a notable perspective shift that has made dating feel a lot more fun than it used to be. So, after doing some serious crowdsourcing among my single pals, I’d like to share some of the biggest lessons we’re taking into our dating lives as 30-somethings. Sure, it’s still early days, and in a few weeks all of this might well go to pot courtesy of some 6’4” creative director with a Mubi subscription and an avoidant attachment style. But let’s try to be optimistic for once.
Don’t date for the plot.
This is something I did a lot in my 20s. Don’t get me wrong: Dating for the sake of a good story (or, ahem, article) has its appeal. It can be sexually satisfying, you feel liberated knowing emotions aren’t at stake, and you rack up an impressive number of anecdotes ready to be wheeled out at any social gathering whenever conversation runs dry. The thing is, it gets old fast. It doesn’t serve you in the long-run to treat dating with such flippancy. Take it from the girl who once found herself doing shots of tequila at 9 a.m. with a man who booty-called her after a night out. I went for the plot. I left with a midday hangover.
Ask people what they’re looking for immediately—and listen to them.
None of this beating around the bush in fear of scaring someone away. As adults, everyone is well within their right to ask the person they’re dating what their intentions are right off the bat. And if that freaks them out, good riddance. Are they looking for something casual? That’s great: You can decide if that’s something you’re up for. If they’re after something more serious, even better: You can travel down that path together and see how things develop. If they’re unsure, that’s where you can run into trouble. As the old adage goes: “If they like you, you’ll know. If they don’t, you’ll feel confused.” Don’t let anyone waste your time because they’re still figuring themselves out.
Don’t date actors.
To all the actors I’ve loved before: Please don’t take this one personally. You’re all great, really. But after extensive field research, I wholeheartedly believe it’s in everyone’s best interest if you stay away from us muggles and focus on dating each other. With a flair for the dramatic and a requirement to be professionally charismatic, you’re much better equipped to deal with your own kind. It’s best I don’t expand on this one too much. Non-actors: You’ll thank me later.
Don’t let your dating life be the only thing you talk about.
“I feel like I’m performing every time I see them,” a single friend recently lamented about her recent interactions with some married pals who, upon seeing her, immediately started begging for stories about her “wild” dating life. “It’s like that’s my entire personality to them,” she sighed. After she pointed this out, the married friends apologized and they resumed talking about other, arguably more interesting, topics. But I think putting on “the single show” is a trap all of us can fall into. If dating is all we’re ever talking about, we wind up neglecting other parts of our lives and putting too much onus on the pursuit of romantic love. Coupled up or not, all of us are so much more than our love lives.
Be patient with people.
The “ick“ has gone too far. Nobody deserves to be written off for dangling their feet off a stool, snorting when they laugh, or having long fingernails. Grow up. The problem is that we’re far too quick to dismiss the people we’re dating over minor grievances (blame disposable dating app culture), and as a result, aren’t giving anyone a proper chance. Also, I’m convinced that if you actually like someone, those little things you may consider icks can quickly transform into the very things you find most endearing about them.
Have fun on your own.
It’s important not to see singlehood as a waiting room. Shortly after a breakup in 2022, I traveled to Greece on my own for a weeklong solo holiday, and it was one of the most empowering things I’ve ever done. You don’t need a partner to go on that trip or eat at that restaurant. You’re an adult and can (and should) do these things on your own, regardless of your relationship status. Try it and cherish every moment.
Be careful how you talk about the people you’re dating.
The narrative you create around someone you’re dating will stick, so choose your words carefully. In a moment of anxiety, you might say something you don’t mean, only for your best mate to cling to it, using it to undermine how you feel when things are going well again.
Question the story you’re telling yourself.
I’ve wasted hours needlessly agonizing over the behavior of men I’ve dated. He didn’t reply to my messages all day? It must be because he’s met someone else and has spent the afternoon in bed with them laughing about my Instagram captions. He didn’t watch my Instagram Story within the hour? He’s on the Eurostar, about to propose to the 24-year-old woman he’s been secretly dating this entire time. He’s running 20 minutes late and my texts aren’t delivering? He died and his wife terminated his phone contract. This is nothing more than insecurity paired with an over-active imagination. Don’t let it get the better of you. Instead, take a deep breath, go to therapy, and maybe consider writing a novel.
Focus on choosing rather than being chosen.
It’s so easy to get caught up in obsessing over whether or not someone fancies us that we often forget to think about whether we actually fancy them. This is essentially how I spent all of 2023: playing kiss chase with a bunch of boys I was so desperately trying to impress that I didn’t even bother to stop and wonder if I was impressed by any of them. I made a lot of bad decisions that year.
Don’t put someone who delivers the bare minimum on a pedestal.
Just because someone isn’t a raging narcissist doesn’t mean they’re your future spouse. The first good egg you date after a series of terrible experiences could well be a lovely person. But be wary of deifying them too early on; you’ll wind up conflating the person they are with a fantasized version in your head that’s impossible to live up to. In other words: Don’t start looking at wedding venues because someone asked you a few questions.
And, finally, take your own advice
I really should do this more.
