Shh. Beyond the aesthetic displays of romance on Instagram, there’s a secret world of midnight recreation thriving in DDA flats, hotel rooms, and dim-lit bars. It’s where relationships are neither defined nor declared; it’s discreet. Not that Gen Z invented the concept of keeping romantic or sexual entanglements on the down-low, but we did give it a sleeker name: sneaky link. Think of it as a by-product of the growing situationship economy — the thriving culture of swipe, match, attach, and detach. If intimacy is almost always short-term and transactional, why bother filing the paperwork for the world?
One of my blunt definitions of a sneaky link is someone you wouldn’t dare be seen in public with — certainly not holding hands. Innocent singles hide their casual affairs from friends, co-workers, and family because they are not supposed to mean anything. The script is simple: meet, greet, put your clothes back on, and exit. These flings aren’t exactly illicit, just not Instagram-worthy. Sure, the co-worker with killer comebacks might make your knees buckle, but his shirt-pant-belt uniform — clearly bought in bulk — isn’t exactly #CoupleGoals. And these days, everyone who “hard-launches” a relationship describes their partner as either a “green flag” wrapped in human form, the king of generational wealth, or Jesus Christ in Zara.
A sneaky link is like that hidden folder on your phone — you swear it doesn’t exist in public, but you’re scrolling through it religiously at 2 am for joys you can’t explain to anyone else. There’s always a little something ‘off’ with such sneaky link-ups. Maybe he’s too broke to take you to Tim Hortons, maybe she washes her hair with home-grown shikakai instead of using a shampoo like normal people, maybe he is good two inches shorter than your ex. But still — annoyingly, inconveniently, irresistibly desirable.
A 30-year-old woman in Delhi told me that summer vacations in her college days were spiced up because of such sneaky links. One much older neighbour once offered her a ride to “run some errands,” which turned into a one-time afternoon adventure she buried so deep she almost forgot it happened. Another was a surprise house visit from a friend-of-a-friend — someone she never so much as acknowledged in public. She would call these men exes because, conveniently, they were never really a thing.
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Hard feelings, low-stake fears, and fat girls
It’s all fun and games until the F-word shows up — feelings. Suddenly, the sneaky link becomes a liability. And nothing’s scarier than realising you’ve caught feelings for the “wrong” person. Once a two-person sneaky situation gets introduced to the emotions of love, longing, and companionship, it’s mostly downhill from there. Before you know it, the emotional one starts clicking pictures of their booty call to make them their phone’s wallpaper.
Then there’s the unfortunate lover from East of Kailash. He adores the aesthetic walls of his hook-up’s bedroom, nods along to her rants about late-stage capitalism, and even relates to her taste in art. Yet he is forced to sneak around with her because he can’t admit to his friends that he has fallen for a fat girl. His excuse is that when you grow up skinny, only admire skinny, and only date skinny — being accepting of different body types feels like emotional labour.
The gym bros, who have chiselled their way into the conventional “attractiveness” bracket, are also in the same boat as fat girls. Hard to resist in private, these protein-shake philosophers, à la Rocky Randhawa, are being banished to the sneaky link box. Their hookups don’t want to be seen dating someone who thinks Nietzsche is a chest exercise. “I don’t want to be known as someone who dates dimwits,” said a 24-year-old marketing professional with a straight face. Much like Rani tells Rocky in Prem Kahaani, “It’s not a thing. It’s just a fling.” But the heart wants what it wants, so she meets her “DJ friend” only in her bedroom.
And apart from the low-stakes fear of judgment, sexual shame, and commitment, sneaky linking thrives because of one more reason: fear of death. Romeo and Juliet sneaked around because the alternative was being killed on page two. The same consequences keep Indian couples awake at night because of ‘Love Jihad’ hysteria, inter-caste taboos, and other regressive limitations. The teenage girl in Lucknow hiding behind a hijab on a guy’s bike is not (not always) on a lustful quest. It’s a deadly conflict of surnames.
At their core, sneaky links are just desires we don’t dare admit — which is exactly why they’ll outlive marriage, monogamy, and maybe even Hinge.
(Edited by Prashant)