Nobody warned me that I have to build a god complex to survive this 21st-century dating world.
The options are many – of partners and apps. So are the generous tips from friends and Instagram love gurus and algorithms.
Is he not texting you back? Act like the goddess you are and stop waiting. Did you build a crush after just six dates? Don’t be beside yourself, swipe right some more—find others to like. Did he ghost you? Block him everywhere, and make sure he never sees your digital footprint. Disappear, meditate, detach, then swipe some more. It’s almost like an emotional kabaddi—both parties engage with each other, but the goal is to emerge unscathed.
This feels like work – a calibrated, carefully constructed choreography. But that is, literally, modern dating protocol. If you want to find love, get ready to pantomime.
Even the ones who claim to crave a ‘90s kind of love’ are playing safe, scared to come off as eager. They are the students of Imtiaz Ali who invoke Rumi, dreaming of finding love in “galat aur sahi ke paar ek maidan”. That’s because, in this realm, they can’t find a proper match. And yet, we all are drawn to it like flies and crows hovering around the Ghazipur landfill. We get disappointed by one mound (Tinder), try another (Bumble), then another (Hinge), and then another (Aisle or some such). If I like a shiny scrap, it doesn’t like me back.
Also read: Ghosting to ‘backburner’ love, why people behave badly on dating apps
Just play the field
On one such hill, I was treated to a late-night drive, a steaming cup of tea from 24SEVEN in Greater Kailash, and a bad poem—“She is hot, the weather is chilly. Let’s see what happens, kam se kam ek ladki to mili (At least, I found a woman)”. The problem wasn’t his questionable poetic choices — to be fair, he writes social media captions for a minister. I just wasn’t warmed up enough for it right after our first date. For a goddess-in-making, educated by the modern dating manual—which is growing thicker with each Instagram reel posted by ‘relationship experts’ or white women with four kids—the poem blew up like a typical love bomb in my face. Then he said that he wanted me, in fact all women in Delhi, to feel safe and even had an ominous start-up idea to finally make it happen. I am no venture capitalist, but I know only his mom would fund his great plan.
Any chance of a second date was completely dashed when he repeatedly posed as the commander of the Knights of the Night: “Send me a text and I will be there to save you with my squad.” My disinterest was labelled as toxic, and I was unfazed because my friends reassured me that I was anything but. Moreover, as a self-respecting woman, I am allowed to choose nonchalant, disinterested drug addicts over vigilante verse villains.
As a product of my time, I am trained to see romance as a delusion—and often the latter as the former. Why test my heart in making that distinction when I can simply follow the popular instructions? Here’s how they go: Send not more than one meme a week to the guy you like, don’t get impressed by breadcrumbs of attention, detach to attract, and never get attached. The rules can get a bit ambiguous at times, but the goal is clear—play the field and don’t lose anything. Especially not your time.
Views are personal.
Note: This is the first of a series of columns on modern dating in India – the good, the bad and the cuddly.