When I first started dating, I was all about excitement and adventure. I wanted someone my age—someone who could keep up with me, who was in sync with my energy and enthusiasm for life. I imagined a relationship full of spontaneous trips, endless conversations, and a shared passion for exploring the world. The idea of settling down with someone who had already been through the motions of life and knew exactly who they were just didn’t appeal to me. I wanted to experience things in the present, not worry about baggage from the past. I wasn’t interested in finding someone who had already “figured it all out.” I wanted a partner to grow with, not one who already had everything mapped out.
But my mom, well, she had a different perspective. As soon as I started talking about the kind of guy I was looking for, she raised her eyebrows and sighed. “Why struggle?” she’d ask, always so pragmatic in her approach to life and relationships. “Do you really want to waste your time with a man who’s still figuring it out? You need someone who’s already built something, someone who’s been through life and come out the other side. Someone who knows what they want, who can handle the ups and downs of a real relationship.”
I remember staring at her, somewhat taken aback. My mom was never one to give advice lightly, but this felt different. She wasn’t just commenting on what I should look for in a partner—she was offering her philosophy on life. I leaned back, trying to process what she meant. “Like who?” I asked, half-expecting her to suggest someone closer to her age than mine. I figured she might reference one of her friends or a colleague she respected, but instead, she responded with complete certainty: “Men in their 50s.”
I nearly choked on my drink. “What?” I said, incredulously. “You’re joking, right?”
But my mom was dead serious. “Think about it,” she continued. “A man in his 50s has usually been through the trials of life—career, relationships, maybe even raising kids. He’s likely done the whole ‘wild youth’ thing, and now, he knows what matters. He’s not looking to play games; he’s already lived through the uncertainty. He’s someone who can offer stability, wisdom, and maybe even a little adventure of his own. Plus, they know how to appreciate the things that really matter in life. You don’t need someone who’s still trying to figure things out, because you’ll just end up waiting around. Don’t waste time on that.”
At first, I thought she was being completely out of touch with what I wanted. I was young, vibrant, and eager to experience life without anyone telling me what I “should” be doing. The idea of dating someone much older, with a whole different perspective on life, didn’t seem remotely appealing. I wanted someone to relate to, someone who understood the same struggles and joys of being young.
But then I started to think about it. What if she had a point? What if someone older, someone with life experience, could bring something to the table that I hadn’t considered? They might not be as wild as the guys I was used to dating, but maybe their grounded nature was exactly what I needed. Maybe the wisdom of someone who had been through the highs and lows of life could offer a sense of security I hadn’t realized I was missing.
Over time, I found myself reconsidering her advice. I had a few brief encounters with older men, not as a serious attempt at romance, but more as an experiment to see what that kind of relationship felt like. To my surprise, I didn’t hate it. In fact, I was struck by how different it was from my previous experiences. Conversations were deeper, more meaningful. There was less drama, and more understanding. They weren’t afraid of commitment, because they’d already been there. And while they weren’t always as spontaneous or carefree as the younger men I had dated, they had an entirely different kind of excitement to offer—one that was rooted in experiences and shared history.
It made me wonder if perhaps my mom’s philosophy wasn’t so far-fetched after all. Could it be that, while I was looking for someone to grow with, I was also unknowingly seeking someone who had already grown? Someone who knew how to nurture the kind of relationship I was beginning to crave, but was too stubborn to admit?
As I reflected on my relationships, I realized that maybe my mom was right. Maybe I didn’t need to settle for a “wild ride” anymore. Maybe it was time to seek something more substantial, more enduring. Perhaps there was wisdom in choosing a partner who had already walked down the path I was just beginning to explore—someone who could offer a steady hand as we navigated the journey together, not someone who was still figuring it out.
The question wasn’t whether I was ready for someone older, but whether I was ready for the kind of relationship that came with maturity and experience. And maybe, just maybe, the older man had a lot to teach me about love, life, and all the quiet, enduring moments in between.
