The Alien Whisperer: A Date So Perfect It Was Out of This World

If you’ve ever thought “surely I’ve seen it all” in the modern dating jungle, buckle up because apparently, I have not.

Enter Mateo, 35, from South America.

Gorgeous. Long, flowing hair like a shampoo commercial for enlightened men. Woo-woo energy that felt like he’d just finished a cacao ceremony in Bali. And best of all? He’d been to therapy. He’d done the work.

Reader, I was intrigued.

The Setup: A Date That Checked Every Box

Mateo didn’t just plan a date, he orchestrated an experience. He booked the restaurant himself (hallelujah), brought flowers (actual flowers, not a text that said “u up?”), and insisted on paying (even when I did the fake reach for my card like a good feminist who still likes free cocktails).

It was, in a word, perfect.

I was thinking: finally someone who’s emotionally aware, aesthetically pleasing, and organised enough to make a reservation before the day of the date.

Then, after our mains arrived, he looked me dead in the eye, held my hand across the table, and said:

“The government is being run by aliens.”

Houston, We Have a Red Flag

Now, I’ve heard some wild stuff on dates, men who “don’t believe in labels,” men who say they’re “spiritual but not into commitment.”

But aliens? Running the government?

I tried to play it cool. I sipped my wine like it was oxygen.

“Which government?” I asked, praying he meant Chile.

He smiled serenely.

“Joe Biden.”

Ah. The American government. Obviously.

At this point, my brain went into crisis management mode. I thought, Oh God, he’s MAGA. My uterus immediately dried up in self-defence.

So I asked, “What do you think of Trump?”

And he said, very matter-of-factly:

“He’s a horrible human being.”

Cue the internal phew. Crisis averted. The aliens were bad, but at least he wasn’t that kind of conspiracy theorist.

Intergalactic Diplomacy

Still, my curiosity got the better of me.

I asked, “So… aliens? Like little green men, or more of a shapeshifter situation?”

He explained with terrifying calm, that the current leaders of the world were being influenced by interdimensional beings. Something about frequencies, DNA upgrades, and how the Queen of England was definitely not one of them (so, you know, some boundaries).

At this point, I was halfway between laughter and Googling “exit strategy that doesn’t involve faking your own abduction.”

But instead, I leaned in because I’m nothing if not journalistic about my dating life.

“Do you think Anthony Albanese could be one?” I asked, showing him a photo of me meeting the Australian Prime Minister.

He studied the photo like it held state secrets.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “Are you an alien?”

Touché, Mateo. Touché.

The Morning After Epiphany

The next day, over my coffee, I replayed the night in my head. The flowers. The restaurant. The emotional availability. The alien discourse.

And a thought hit me square in the face like a metaphorical UFO:

Had I become the very middle-aged man I claim to despise?

You know the type, the ones who date women half their age because they’re “fun” and “beautiful” and “don’t nag them about superannuation or emotional maturity.”

Was I doing the same thing in reverse?

Dating younger because they’re gorgeous and intriguing, while casually ignoring their views because they’re, well… batshit cosmic?

Mateo wasn’t unkind. He wasn’t ignorant. He just existed on a different frequency apparently one broadcast from the Pleiades star cluster.

And yet there I was, treating his beliefs like a harmless quirk instead of a giant red flag wrapped in starlight.

The Double Standard Nobody Talks About

Here’s the thing about being a woman dating in your 40s: you start to crave ease. The planning. The thoughtfulness. The chemistry. You get so excited to meet someone who’s done their emotional homework that you overlook the fine print like “believes lizard people run the Pentagon.”

It’s not that I don’t respect different worldviews I’ve got crystals, a tarot deck, and a moon journal, thank you very much. But there’s a line between woo-woo and warp-speed delusion, and Mateo had crossed it with full NASA clearance.

And yet, I still found myself romanticising it.

“He’s just open-minded,” I told myself.

“He’s spiritually curious.”

“He’s… eccentric.”

Let’s be honest: if a 50-year-old man said that about a 25-year-old woman who thought she was half-mermaid, we’d roast him on the internet before breakfast.

The Seduction of the Unusual

Maybe that’s the danger of modern dating, we mistake novelty for connection.

Mateo wasn’t like anyone I’d met before, and that made him fascinating. It wasn’t the aliens it was the way he talked about energy, about feeling the world through vibration and intuition.

The irony? He probably did feel deeply. Maybe even more than most men I’ve dated. He just channelled that emotional sensitivity into a cosmic political thriller instead of emotional literacy.

And somewhere between his flower offering and the alien government reveal, I realised how easy it is to fall for the idea of someone even when the facts are… extraterrestrial.

Dating Over 40: Earth Lessons from a Cosmic Encounter

Here’s what I took from my intergalactic encounter with Mateo:

1. Charm and chemistry can disguise chaos.

   
   

   Just because someone planned a beautiful night doesn’t mean they’re grounded in this dimension.

   
   

2. Doing “the work” doesn’t guarantee self-awareness.

   
   

   Therapy teaches insight. It doesn’t grant immunity from delusion

   
   

3. Woo-woo compatibility has limits.

   
   

   Meditation, astrology, and therapy? Yes.

   
   

   Alien shadow governments? Not so much.

   
   

4. It’s okay to want beautiful, intriguing people but not at the expense of your sanity.

   
   

   Beauty fades. Belief in alien overlords apparently does not.

   
   

5. Don’t be the middle-aged man you roll your eyes at.

   
   

   You know the one who values aesthetics over alignment, charm over common sense.

Because maybe the real growth moment here wasn’t about aliens or conspiracy theories it was about catching myself in a pattern I hadn’t noticed before.

A New Kind of Attraction

It’s easy to say you want someone who’s “done the work.” Harder to admit you also want someone who lives on the same planet.

What I really want what I think most women over 40 want, isn’t perfection. It’s presence. Someone who shows up. Who plans. Who feels deeply but still pays their taxes and doesn’t think Joe Biden has an intergalactic handler.

Mateo reminded me that attraction isn’t a checklist. It’s chemistry, timing, curiosity and sometimes, a cosmic joke from the universe to make sure you’re still paying attention.

Would I see him again?

Honestly… probably not.

But I did Google “signs you might be an alien hybrid” later that night, just in case.