How old fashioned

I went to the dentist last week to get my cavities filled. In the middle of the procedure, after being asked to spit, I dabbed my mouth with some tissues and then returned my hand to its resting place on my lap. The dentist reached for my hand and turned it around. I had no idea what he was doing. "How old are you?" he asked. "27," I replied. Then, he countered with, "Why aren't you married yet?"

I wonder if he'd ask a 27-year-old male patient the same question.