Don’t filter your dates by age and hobbies, ask them how they shop | Polly Hudson

A friend of mine once declined a date with a kind, funny, clever man because she hated his shoes. When she relayed this to our group of twentysomethings, it didn’t warrant comment or discussion, because it was such a rational decision, which we all would have made. I mean, come on – you can’t go out with someone with bad trainers, can you?

Fortunately for the continuation of the human race, today’s daters appear to be a little less fastidious. A recent report on relationships by the dating app Plenty of Fish not only failed to mention footwear, but showed that people are keen to skip the small-talk phase, so weighty conversation topics such as life goals and dealbreakers are now brought up straight away.

“What we’re seeing for 2026 is a real shift in mindset,” reports PoF’s PR manager, Eva Gallagher. “Singles have a more grounded sense of purpose.”

This is a good start, but if you really want to know whether you’re suited to long-term togetherness, there are some topics you need to talk about from the off. These are the real dealbreakers, and would be much more fruitful dating-app search filters than age and hobbies.

For example, how long before a flight do you arrive at the airport? This is rarely addressed at an early stage – and no, a mini-break during the honeymoon phase, where all quirks are adorable, does not count. If it was raised on the first date, those clearly seething couples who make far too many “shame if it’s not possible for us to sit together on the plane” jokes at check-in wouldn’t exist – and presumably no one would be happier about that than they would.

Many question whether their star signs are compatible, but never their approaches to how to react when the film they’ve gone to see turns out to be terrible. This is far more important, unless you’re seeking a lifetime of arguing via the medium of mime and hissing. So are you team Life’s Too Short to Sit Through an Awful Movie, or team I’ve Paid My Money So I’m Staying Till the Bitter End? Pick well: they don’t mix.

Food can be a relationship danger zone, far beyond the relentless hell of trying to decide what you should have for dinner every night. Never mind “Do you come here often?” – a far superior pickup line would be: “What’s your Sainsbury’s style?” If party A favours a supermarket technique that means their checkout camera footage is just a blur, with sparks flying off it, and party B enjoys a leisurely stroll up and down each aisle, perusing every product on sale, it could be a recipe for disaster.

Then, even if you stay together long enough to make it home with your shopping, do you agree on how strictly to take food expiry dates? As the fairly new saying goes, one partner’s unforgivable waste is another’s food poisoning attempt. Other issues on which you need to clarify positions include when to put up the Christmas decs – and take them down – and annoyance levels when being spoken to from another room, so you can only vaguely hear what’s being said.

All these little details seem trivial when you meet, inconsequential in the face of your epic love, but as the anniversaries roll by, you’ll find yourself muttering about them under your breath on an endless loop. Then, one day, you’ll feel instantly murderous at the mere mention of an airport, like somebody hypnotised to do a chicken impression at the sound of a trigger word.

However, the frustrating truth is that even if you tackle all these dealbreakers head-on, you can’t future-proof your relationship against wildcards. I could have had the fullest, frankest conversation possible with my husband of 15 years the second we met, and it’s still extremely unlikely that he would have revealed his baffling stance on buying hot drinks when out of the house.

To this man, who appears normal from the outside, carrying a takeaway cup is showing off. It’s sending an unbearably smug message to the world, boasting that you don’t have time to stop for a coffee. In his eyes, you should have put the kettle on before you left home, or you can just wait until you get back. This is a hill he is absolutely willing to die on. If he was gasping for water in a desert, and some was readily available in a cardboard receptacle, he would use his last sliver of energy to crawl past with his nose in the air. Somehow we have been bickering about how ludicrous this is/isn’t for nearly two decades now. He’s lucky his trainers are nice.

Polly Hudson is a freelance writer