![\"Jennifer](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/\/25ccecc8-1b81-4561-88f5-17aabd6b5353.jpg\")
<\/p>\n
Jennifer Aniston and Jim Curtis<\/p>\n
JIM CURTIS\/INSTAGRAM<\/p>\n
But hit 50 and things change, as long as you follow this golden rule: stop trying. Stop trimming your eyebrows and nasal hair. Stop learning magic tricks or learning jokes that you looked up online. In fact, get off the apps, turn down all blind dates. Go on solo country walks or to the cinema on your own. If need be, throw popcorn at the screen and shout, \u201cLies! It\u2019s all lies!\u201d at the rom-coms. <\/p>\n
Because for men, romance after 50 isn\u2019t a rom-com or a cutesy episode of Friends. Or if it is, it\u2019s the one where you stand in front of everyone in socks and sandals and admit you hate cats, sometimes eat peanut butter off the end of a knife for a meal and honk at learner drivers. Finally, you are being you. Now you are ready to find love.<\/p>\n
I married my wife aged 51. We met when I was a stressed single dad and she was a stressed single mum. She asked me to do her a childcare favour which, to be honest, was a bit annoying because I was about to ask her the same thing. But then I found I quite liked it on the moral high ground (and later secured a substantial childcare favour in return). This bartering system got us as far as friendship and, for a while, I thought, \u201cThis is nice, this is where people like me and Jennifer Aniston should remain.\u201d<\/p>\n
But it turned into a love affair when I realised that, aged 50, I couldn\u2019t remain in denial about how interesting and sexy my new friend was. And I soon realised that finding someone who agrees that a Snickers bar will always really be a Marathon and that Starburst will always be Opal Fruits is actually quite rare. Being survivors from a lost pre-digital world is romantic.<\/p>\n
I know when you fall in love in your twenties it\u2019s all wonderfully new and there is no baggage. And, yes, it is odd when I flick through my wife\u2019s old photo albums and there she is, inhabiting this previous life with another guy, holding hands on some beach as they gamely face the future. And there I am, in another album, doing the same with another woman, waiting for things to go tits up so that we can arrive at this romantic fiftysomething idyll together. <\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s like you\u2019ve both been recycled,\u201d our kids sometimes joke. True, but when it comes to romance they don\u2019t build love affairs to last like they did in the old days. Jennifer Aniston is in on the secret: vintage is best.<\/p>\n
\u2022 Read more expert advice on sex, relationships, dating and love<\/a><\/p>\n An old colleague set me up on a blind date \u2014 we got engaged last month<\/p>\n By Carmel Allen<\/p>\n Finding love again in your fifties isn\u2019t something you plan. It sneaks up when you least expect it \u2014 in my case, via a text from an old colleague.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you still single, Carmel?\u201d popped up the message. \u201cIs that Pope still Catholic?\u201d I replied.<\/p>\n And so began the exchange that led to a blind date \u2014 and, last month, some time after we both passed 50, a full-on, old-fashioned marriage proposal on a Greek island at sunset. Like Jen and Jim, Carmel and Christopher found love again later in life.<\/p>\n I almost posted the moment \u2014 the Tiffany solitaire, the Greek golden hour \u2014 but I held back. Yes, I\u2019m happy for people to know our news (and obviously I\u2019m writing about it now in The Times), but I also wanted to hold it close for a while. That\u2019s how rare and precious love in midlife feels.<\/p>\n Meanwhile, my daughter has just returned from university and is living at home, which means Sky Arts and Slow Horses are in constant battle with Married at First Sight and Made in Chelsea. If ever there were two shows to prove that \u201cthe course of true love never did run smooth\u201d, it\u2019s those last two.<\/p>\n Finding love under 30 looks like hard work these days. Apart from the jealousy and betrayals, there\u2019s a lot of injectables going on \u2014 men and women alike. The pressure to conform to some odd standard of perfection is baffling. But then again, when meeting potential partners involves dating apps, everyone is judged in the time it takes to swipe. Ouch. Setting your friends up on blind dates would be much better.<\/p>\n \u2022 Finding love after 70? Maureen Lipman has given me hope<\/a><\/p>\n I\u2019ll be for ever grateful to Nicola, who took that step of arranging the date between me and Christopher. I hadn\u2019t seen her in years; we\u2019d been colleagues in the Noughties and, along with three other women in that office, had all done three months of online dating. That shared experience was as dispiriting as it was bonding.<\/p>\n So when Nicola\u2019s out-of-the-blue text appeared, I was intrigued. I had nothing to lose and agreed to the date \u2014 with low expectations. Maybe that was the key. I\u2019d been unwell and had postponed, so Christopher probably assumed I was fobbing him off. But when we finally met \u2014 me not dressed to the nines and ravenous after a few days of barely eating \u2014 I tucked into a Sunday roast with gusto.<\/p>\n Christopher later told me he\u2019d never been on a date with a woman who ate so much. He liked how \u201cnatural\u201d (code: no make-up) I was. You\u2019d never see that on MAFS or MIC.<\/p>\n A few days later I went to India with my daughter, but Christopher called every evening on WhatsApp once she was asleep. He had two teenage children too, and they lived with him. We discovered we had similar responsibilities and priorities. That week of long-distance conversations was, looking back, a wonderful way to begin.<\/p>\n When I got home, the illness that had started before our date worsened \u2014 it turned out to be pneumonia. I ended up in hospital, and Christopher arrived asking not how I was but whether my daughter had food in the house and could he do a shop for her. That\u2019s when I knew I could fall in love with this kind, caring (and yes, handsome) man.<\/p>\n So this Christmas, instead of another scented candle, give someone the gift of a blind date. They\u2019re free, ageless and it might just change everything. Thank you, Nicola.<\/p>\n I got married (again) when I was 51<\/p>\n By Flic Everett<\/p>\n Flic Everett and her husband, Andy, on their wedding day<\/p>\n SANDIE MACIVER\/SANDIEPHOTOS<\/p>\n \u201cCherished\u201d isn\u2019t the word we usually associate with fiftysomething partnerships. \u201cHassled\u201d, maybe. \u201cOverburdened\u201d, perhaps. But the golden goddess and international treasure known as Jennifer Aniston<\/a>, 56, went Insta-official with that word this week, wishing her \u201clove\u201d, the hypnotherapist and wellness guru Jim Curtis, a happy birthday. <\/p>\n We can forgive her the gushing, because finding true love in your fifties is like uncovering the Holy Grail in the gardening aisle of Home Bargains, chance-wise. I should know. After two failed marriages, finding myself single again in my mid-forties, I could expect only the company of cats and delightfully catty friends for the rest of my life, statistically speaking. I\u2019d sooner have watched reruns of The Love Boat on a loop than venture near Tinder (my ability to spot red flags makes Mr Magoo look like the eagle-eye Action Man) and all my male friends were happily married.<\/p>\n It was only when one of the said happily marrieds invited me to meet his friend Andy, having known both of us for almost 30 years, that those doom-laden statistics fell away. Just one weekend in the West Highlands \u2014 traipsing round Glencoe and drinking \u2014 and we\u2019d formed a connection based on mutual hatreds (idiots, manufactured pop, weak tea), which led to Facebook messaging (we\u2019re ancient Gen Xers, give us a break) and then to a visit. He came to Bath, where I was living at the time, charmed the cats and fixed the wi-fi. It was a done deal, but the relationship remained long-distance for 18 months, at which point I was made redundant and he suggested I could try living in his tiny West Highlands cottage for a few weeks while I decided what to do next. <\/p>\n \u2022 Dear Dolly: \u2018I\u2019m a 71-year-old widower. Am I too old to find love?\u2019<\/a><\/p>\n I\u2019m still here. We got married three years ago, when I was 51 and he was 50, and I wore a cream silk dress from eBay that cost me \u00a37.99 and had a school play name taped in the back. Because (unlike my previous weddings) I didn\u2019t care how fancy I looked. I knew this was it, not an optimistic roll of the dice but the rest of my life clicking into place. I didn\u2019t experience a moment\u2019s doubt (except when we decided to cater the wedding buffet ourselves).<\/p>\n All the terrible clich\u00e9s about later-life love are true \u2014 \u201cyou know what you want\u201d, \u201cyou know who you are\u201d, \u201cyou appreciate the little things\u201d. When I was younger, the idea of a night on the sofa with two spaniels, the cat and my husband watching The Celebrity Traitors would have made me feel claustrophobic with boredom. Now, I live for those moments, because I don\u2019t know how long I\u2019ll have to enjoy them. In your fifties, friends get ill, family members age and die, children live far away \u2014 I know how lucky I was to get another chance relatively late in the day, and while my husband can still drive me mad, (and I him, I\u2019m sure), I\u2019m with Jennifer. I cherish all of it. <\/p>\n I was bad on the apps. In the end I met someone in real life \u2014 almost like in the Nineties<\/p>\n By Stephen Armstrong<\/p>\n Love is not a stranger in an open car, it\u2019s a messy catastrophe held together by hope and tinsel, but when I returned to the fray after a surprisingly kind and friendly divorce and a less friendly rebound relationship break-up, I\u2019d forgotten that. Indeed, I\u2019d forgotten everything. The last time I\u2019d been on the market, John Major was prime minister and grunge was still an acceptable male fashion.<\/p>\n Hitting the midlife crisis hard, I went on a date with a dancer in her early thirties. We met at a bar that was too hip for me. Then when I pulled out my wallet to pay (this was pre-lockdown when cash was still a thing) she said: \u201cOh, my God, you pay with notes not a debit card. That\u2019s so sexy.\u201d I thought that was a good sign until she added: \u201cIt reminds me of my dad.\u201d Knowing at least one of us would end up in therapy, I went home alone. <\/p>\n Gradually, all my old places to find love fell away. People don\u2019t go to bars to meet middle-aged men, I can\u2019t stay awake long enough to go clubbing, work is a whole different and thoroughly unacceptable place to date, especially when you\u2019re sometimes the oldest in the meeting (almost), and the gym is right out. I was not this red in the face 25 years ago. <\/p>\n So, I hit the apps. For the first couple of days, it was like being in a bar where every woman was single. I thought I was in heaven\u2019s sweet shop. Then slowly it became \u2026 well, a chore. I had tough days at work, and I had messages waiting so I\u2019d try to reply but end up cutting and pasting. App women have a BS detection rate of 100 per cent. Plus, you don\u2019t get second chances. And my whole dating life has relied on kind women giving me second chances. <\/p>\n In the end, I met her in real life. We were introduced remotely, chatted by text and just met in a bar. I know, right? Almost like the Nineties. In the old days, I\u2019d have mooned around for months and narrowly avoided the friend zone. At my age, though, I don\u2019t have the time. I might actually die first if I took that long.<\/p>\n It\u2019s different when you\u2019re older, I\u2019ve found. In your twenties there are performance targets \u2014 commitment is an actionable deliverable because life is waiting and women want decisions before it\u2019s too late. At my age, having children is not on the cards. And when two divorcees start dating, your baggage is so plain to see that it\u2019s hard to surprise each other. Although lord knows I\u2019ve managed it more than once. <\/p>\n Sex is way better. You\u2019ve had more practice. Although men famously peak at 19 in energy and the line \u201csteak once a week is better than a burger every day\u201d from a tired, stressed journalist is only funny the first time. Plus, meeting friends is fraught. You\u2019re the new boy in an old school and they can\u2019t keep the caution out of their voices. \u201cHow temporary will this one be?\u201d they\u2019re thinking. <\/p>\n But at least I know myself better, plus she expects much less. Well, a little less. And that\u2019s the kind of expectation I have a realistic chance of living up to. There are still things to navigate. Perhaps there always will be. At least these days my credit card will just about handle a weekend break and \u2014 yes, Annie Lennox \u2014 I could hire an open car. <\/p>\n I was ghosted by a fiftysomething KC before I found love at the end of the Tinder tunnel<\/p>\n By Anna Murphy<\/p>\n DAN KENNEDY FOR THE TIMES<\/p>\n Is it good news or bad news that I met my partner on a dating app when I was almost 50? That\u2019s for you to decide. We are four years in, which shows that you can find love at the end of the Tinder tunnel. (Not that I am going to pretend it isn\u2019t quite some tunnel.) So I would argue that you ignore the apps at your peril, which may well not be what you want to hear.<\/p>\n I know the thing now is to eschew apps entirely, especially if you are older. Having been through the mortification of it all, I understand why. Yet the brutal fact is that dating is a numbers game. If you are not that bothered about finding someone, great. If you are, then you aren\u2019t doing yourself any favours if you disengage. <\/p>\n The more people you encounter, the more likely you are to meet someone. And in midlife, even if you are social, you just don\u2019t come across as many single people as when you were younger. On the apps, you can easily tick off a person a week if you are so inclined.<\/p>\n How to do it and remain sane? My advice is to go on your app of choice most days to check out the talent, and to see who is checking you out. But log on for a limited amount of time only \u2014 set an alarm for 20 minutes tops, so you don\u2019t lose track \u2014 and never last thing at night. (An existential crisis is less likely to set in at lunchtime than before bed.)<\/p>\n Meet people as quickly as you can after you start messaging. It\u2019s only IRL that you will know if you are in with a chance, and you will know, like as not, the second you clap eyes on them. Only meet them if they properly spark your interest; don\u2019t meet someone just for the sake of it. <\/p>\n \u2022 Davina McCall and the truth about dating in your fifties<\/a><\/p>\n The nature of that meeting is key. The way you rack up the numbers that will facilitate you finding your way to your one (eventually) is by meeting for half an hour for a morning coffee. That\u2019s it. Not a big investment of time. This is another thing that ensures that your dating life remains a sideshow to your actual life until such a point as you meet someone who makes you want to integrate the two. <\/p>\n Approach the encounter as an anthropologist would; as a means of finding out more about people; about the world. Everyone\u2019s interesting for half an hour if you ask the right questions. With the right attitude even an unsuccessful date can expand you rather than shrink you. <\/p>\n Heading into date two and beyond, remain open but cautious. Nothing is real until it\u2019s real, and people reveal themselves over the course of months, not weeks. There are a lot of surprisingly lost souls out there \u2014 I was ghosted by a fiftysomething KC at one point! \u2014 but there are plenty of true souls too. <\/p>\n To look for a partner in midlife is to have the chance to find someone who fits with you as you are now rather than as you were in the past. And if you have done the work to get yourself to a place where you want another half rather than need one \u2014 a big difference \u2014 you are in a good place to find a true match. <\/p>\n I fell in love again last year \u2014 it\u2019s as powerful at 50-plus as it was in my twenties<\/p>\n By Sophie Ziegler<\/p>\n CLARA MOLDEN FOR THE TELEGRAPH<\/p>\n Love is the most magical thing to find at any age and (perhaps for its rarity value) somehow seems the more magical the older you get. I slipped back into that crazy and discombobulating state of limerence last year and it was as powerful now as it was when I was in my twenties. But that\u2019s where the similarities end, thankfully. <\/p>\n There is something particularly special about falling in love at 50-plus. I didn\u2019t \u201cneed\u201d someone and I definitely wasn\u2019t after someone to start a family with or to help parent my four children. My life was full and happy, and settling with someone out of fear of being alone was a total anathema. So if someone was going to come along and disturb my equilibrium, they had to fit with me as I am, right here, right now.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve spoken to so many people over the years about finding love when you\u2019re older. Gone are the days when the \u201cbad boy\u201d was the cool one. Now, while it goes without saying that you\u2019ve got to fancy them and they\u2019ve got to make you laugh like a drain, the thing you want someone to be, more than anything else, is kind. That is the ultimate.<\/p>\n \u2022 The new rules for dating after divorce \u2014 the therapist\u2019s guide<\/a><\/p>\n I\u2019ve had some wonderful relationships since splitting up with my husband when I was 40, and even the ones who dealt some pretty painful blows have taught me something I can take into the next one. I\u2019ve learnt about red flags, the joy of boundaries and how to ask for what I want. Thankfully, over time, I\u2019ve come to respect my intuition \u2014 gut instinct has become my byword. <\/p>\n And I\u2019ve learnt not to rush, that there\u2019s time, there are no deadlines to be met. With Rory it was a much slower burn, and it\u2019s lasting. We met and walked and talked, our first \u201cdate\u201d didn\u2019t happen for months and months, but I knew all that time he was \u201cthe one\u201d. I think my friends thought I was mad. They couldn\u2019t understand why, for someone who had a tendency to run full pelt into things, I was waiting so (apparently) patiently. I didn\u2019t feel remotely patient about it, but I felt deep down he was worth waiting for. And he is.<\/p>\n Inevitably, on the way to my present state of smug happiness, I spent a lot of time dating. Whether online (is it really possible to waste that much time with zero outcome?), going to \u201csingles parties\u201d (agonising, sharks circling the room looking for bait), re-meeting people I knew in my far distant past, going on blind dates and having tortuous introductions. I learnt not to take it personally when I was ghosted, how to tell someone the second date was never going to happen, how to turn a shit evening into a funny story and how to walk away at the end of a night full of couples with my head held high, remembering how much I valued my independence. <\/p>\n In the end, after going on many dates and hearing from so many other people how unbelievably difficult it was to meet someone in a \u201cnormal\u201d way, I ended up founding my own singles club, the Otto Connection<\/a>. What felt like a new way for people to meet was really just a journey back to the \u201cgood old days\u201d when you got to know people slowly, seeing them again and again doing different things. In those days it was Tuesdays at the Soul Furnace or dropping into Blushes in Sloane Square after work. Now, through the Otto Connection, people meet at exhibitions, concerts, playing a game of rounders or an old-fashioned meeting in a pub. I found Rory on Otto and I couldn\u2019t be happier; he\u2019s clever, funny and, yes, extraordinarily kind.<\/p>\n![\"Carmel](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/\/9b8ac0e3-4c3a-4fa6-9153-bdd53141a4d6.jpg\")
<\/p>\n![\"Flic](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/\/9de1d170-ef5e-4a15-8d85-e5d0c464006f.jpg\")
<\/p>\n![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/\/b131e085-8923-4fa6-97b6-746d07c33214.jpg\")
<\/p>\n![\"Anna](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/\/c023abca-96c1-4bb0-9199-46784df824c7.jpg\")
<\/p>\n![\"Sophie](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/\/55c93ee6-9459-4a78-aaee-9bf569fd3eff.jpg\")
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