Dating for ‘potential’ is a real thing among Gen Z. You date a man not for what he is today, but for what he can be in the future. It requires hard work. A woman has to overlook a lot of flaws and carefully nurture the man. Think of it as the futures trading of modern dating.
It is a 20-something woman’s sport, a resilient workout in wishful thinking. It’s hanging out with someone interesting for the first time and already writing the caption for future engagement photos on the way home. Delulu is the absolute faith some of us have in illogical cosmic events, the economy, and romcoms—forces we believe will turn a man into the perfect version of himself in real life.
Imagine betting on a drunk person to carry you across a deadly bridge—that’s the kind of high-stakes gamble strong, independent Gen Z women are willing to take. In a misguided attempt to secure the best catch, they arm themselves with detailed questionnaires to gauge their date’s “potential”.
Meanwhile, men tend to stick to the basics: “What’s your body count?” and “Can I come over?”
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Hopelessly hopeful
After a series of delusional dating disappointments, the straight woman’s notes app ends up full of lessons, prayers, and character analyses of Hinge boys in very, very foul language.
“What was I thinking?” is the oldest, loudest, and—to be honest—the whiniest cry a lover girl makes after she stops daydreaming about her semi-bearable situationship. Flooded with 50-plus matches on dating apps, she eventually sees promise in the first, second, or eventually the tenth guy in her inbox. He studies law—what if he becomes an overpaid intern at a swanky firm? He spends all his free time on PUBG—what if someday he gets bored of his game and starts calling regularly? And the best—he doesn’t want to date me, but what if he is my soulmate? It’s not about what he really is but what he can be. It’s a lot of delusional, wishful thinking.
Imagine the divine devotion of Meera, the charitable enterprise of Mother Teresa, and the financial aspirations of a girlboss—dating someone for his “potential” in 2024 takes all of that.
One 25-year-old writer in Kolkata revamped her Spotify, restocked her bookshelf, and drained her self-esteem to fit the girlfriend mould for a mouldy man in college. It was a personal project she kept failing at. He even gave her notes on how she should talk. The charm of the volatile on-and-off relationship finally wore off when he sent her an obscenely cropped image of herself as a casual joke. Turns out, his only real potential was in the creep department.
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False promise
The love gurus on Instagram and YouTube are predictably divided on dating for potential. Apparently, it’s smart and foolish at the same time. The High Value Women squad advises to only invest in men with ‘provider mindset’. But if the breadwinner bro is too aware of his assets, he’s not worth it.
At 26, a journalist started dating a gaslighter-slash-demanding-senior at work. He was witty and a feminist with strong morals—all in her head. He manipulated her into working round the clock while playing the emotional support doll.
“We will grow closer, we will be happier,” she would manifest. Predictably, no chants worked. The future successful-news-editor was just too much work.
Not everyone has the patience to wait until their insignificant others realise their imaginary potential. My heroic friend in Chennai dumped a “future filmmaker”. She now describes him as a sweet boy who wasn’t getting anywhere fast in life. He paid for their dates with the pocket money his mother gave him. Clearly, he was too broke to romanticise.
Considering the growth graveyard that is my list of exes, I’m really questioning what potential I was dating. Take the last one, for example. He was rusty on guitar when we first met, and five years later, he’s even more off-key. It’s his sheer audacity that he still calls himself a guitarist in his new dating profile.
Ratan Priya is a copy editor at ThePrint’s Opinion and Ground Reports desk. Views are personal.
Note: This article is part of a series of columns on modern dating in India—the good, the bad and the cuddly.
(Edited by Asavari Singh)