Matchmaking is thriving at the dead end of the dating apps era. Dateless in the summer of ’25, singles are turning to their friends for help—and some are set up without even asking. It’s classic pity-pally behaviour, the kind perpetually unclaimed people are bound to endure now and then.
So many love stories are scripted every day just because selfless people introduce those looking for the same kind of romance. Inspired by the good publicity, Gen Z ask their friends to soft-launch them to other friends. Well-wishers have been known to host parties just to set up singles with eligible others. I know a happily committed couple who discovered each other in a WhatsApp group created by a mutual friend. The problem is, these arranged setups are rarely successful. In case you’re wondering if this neo-arranged courtship is safer than Hinge, Tinder, or Bumble swiping, you’ll need to adjust your expectations. Terms and conditions apply.
One of the worst-case scenarios of trusting real people to find you a compatible partner, and not Hinge, is discovering your actual market value. A Delhi-based girlie didn’t realise she was about to dent her colleague’s self-esteem when she showed him a picture of her forever-single gay friend. “Please date him, he’s really sweet,” she said. Revolted by the offer, the workmate wondered, “Is this the kind of man I deserve?”
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New enemies, not couples
What happens when two incompatible people are matched by a mutual friend? Jane Austen’s Emma would know something about it. She fumbled her friend big time by trying too hard to set her up with the wrong guy.
Some women, like Emma, approach matchmaking like it’s charity work—they can’t bear looking at their manless female friends. But they’re not driven by selflessness alone. Bringing two singles together gives them a power trip.
Others treat matchmaking like a leisure activity, such as baking or crocheting. This kind of matchmaker is usually single, and finds it more exciting to knead other people’s love lives into shape than deal with the half-baked mess of their own.
Gauging romantic chemistry between two people is risky business. When it flops, years of friendship and group dynamics fall apart. That’s why so many of us refuse to meddle in other people’s affairs. And yet, the moment a friend begs for a setup, we turn into reluctant matchmakers—digging through our contacts to see who’s single, breathing, and not a psycho.
A good friend from Bokaro suffered this hell for almost a couple of years. She got into an arranged hook-up situation, reluctantly brokered by her college bestie. The friend warned her it wouldn’t work, but the ball was set rolling anyway. What began as a casual fling spiralled into a one-sided crush, miscommunication, and a dash of trauma bonding, leaving behind nothing but a blot on her dating history. To make it worse, the bestie took the guy’s side and landed on the blocked list with him.
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Matchmaking 101
And that is why, my friends, matchmaking is no child’s play. It’s not as if one stands at a podium, points to two singles, and says: “You and you. Date now.”
Those who actually get the job done right interrogate their single-ready-to-mingle pals and potential matches on what they really want. Step two is due diligence: compiling a list of personal red flags and handing it over like a chargesheet. Because without sharing the angularities, you’re just committing fraud.
One self-appointed matchmaker in Kolkata brought two of her friends together on a trip, convinced they were each other’s type. And they were, actually. Both of them hate going on hikes, love Imtiaz Ali, and were equally desperate to mingle with someone, anyone. And yet, the three-day vacation in Pondicherry made them hate each other vehemently. The unpaid matchmaker had to take all the blame.
A Thrissur-based friend-of-a-friend is unfazed by the rampant failures of friends’ matchmaking services. She’s so serious about finding potential girlfriends and boyfriends for her buddies that she asks them to fill out an informal document. She’s come up with a few simple rules to avoid mishaps. Never introduce two alpha personalities because it won’t work. Steer heavy drinkers toward people who are responsible with their alcohol intake (one can keep the other safe).
There’s someone for everyone in her ever-evolving contact list. Except when it comes to the breed of men who radiate ‘illahi’ energy. Think Ranbir Kapoor in Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani (2013)—the carefree, mountain-chasing freelancer who says things like, “Main udna chahta hoon”. This breed of men decorate their rustic bikes with Tibetan prayer flags and probably have a falcon tattoo on their backs. You can’t tie them down with commitment.
Matchmaker friends like her do all this groundwork just to be mentioned in wedding speeches, nothing more. And if playing Cupid means missing a few arrows, it’s still no riskier than what happens in online dating. In fact, sign me up. Just one rule: don’t set me up with an alpha. Two swords can’t be in one scabbard.
Views are personal.
(Edited by Asavari Singh)