Warning: Please keep the Oxford Dictionary of Current English by your side while reading this article.
Relationships have always been complicated. Now, talking about them is worse. Aastha Chowdhury, a 24-year-old budding lawyer from Dehradun, has had a rainbow dating trajectory over the past couple of years.
Two years ago, emerging from a disastrous, emotionally abusive relationship, which dragged through the pandemic, she gladly made her way to London to pursue an LL.M. While there, she experienced a dating renaissance by downloading a plethora of dating apps for the first time. Keeping her mind open to possibilities, she began open-casting through a buffet of options; went on numerous first dates, and several secondary ones, and enjoyed memorable interactions both in the bedroom and outside it (dry dating helped her stick with her rule of ethical sexploration).
Having gained coronesty from her previous experience, however, she kept her guardrails up against potential emotional entanglements, ensuring that her main character's energy remained the focus of all her dating exploits. She also kept a check on her expenditure, aware of the rules of infla-dating as well as the fact that this phase of wander love wouldn’t last forever.
Upon returning to India last September, she became more amenable to being in a serious relationship. So, when she moved to Delhi for work, she re-joined the apps she had shut down while at home with her parents in Dehradun.
“My dating experience in Delhi wasn’t good. It could be because there are more entitled jerks there or my expectations were high. There were some who made only plans and never followed up, others woke-fished me by pretending to be more socio-politically aware than they actually were, and some were breadcrumbs by pretending to like me while simultaneously going on other dates. After five months of this toxic environment, I’ve decided to be consciously single. I’m sure the right
person will come along,” she shares.
You would be forgiven for turning to Webster to decipher the lingo Chowdhury uses while describing her action-packed love life. Terminology is a linguistic reflection of the times. Different social groups use language to mark their group identity.
Zoomers like Chowdhury are finding their place using a patois of their own, trendy and homey, as tech, climate change and the pandemic play fast and loose with their concept of stability. With more players entering the dating environment, the number of terms defining the mores and practices, also expand. So, in the run-up to Valentine’s Day, here’s the lowdown on dating in 2023.
Widening the Net
Chitra Rajagopal, a 25-year-old corporate professional from Chennai, was both studious and sporty, a rare combination that elevated her to the status of the most popular girl in school and university.
Hence, she had her pick when it came to dating guys. She always fell for the same ‘type’—brawn-over-brain ‘jocks’ who were physically attractive, but often lacking in intellect. Things changed when she went to pursue her MBA and then joined a niche marketing firm.
She says, “At IIM Trichy, there were no ‘jocks’ around. So, even though there were plenty of people approaching me, I had a bit of a dry spell because I wasn’t attracted to anyone. At work, the pool was even smaller. Then after a year of no dates, my friend tried to set me up with her boyfriend’s mate. I took one look at his Instagram feed and said, ‘No way.” But destiny had other plans.
She continues, “A month or two after that, I was scrolling through a dating app when I came across the same guy. Going through his profile, I was surprised to discover we had so many similar interests. So, I swiped right. I’m glad I did because now we’re engaged to be married.”
Rajagopal is part of a growing community of youngsters who have widened the net by indulging in open-casting as opposed to pursuing a singular dating ‘type’. Over the last couple of decades, the notion of the ideal partner was often dictated by Western pop culture trends.
Hence, as the West moves towards being more inclusive, the rest follow suit. From Rajagopal’s case, it’s also evident that a sense of familiarity helps in widening the net, as she may never have swiped right on her Mr Right, had she not recognised him.
Global research conducted by the dating app Bumble (in India, it was conducted by YouGov with a sample size of 2,000 respondents), suggests that 2023 is poised to be the year that will challenge the dating status quo. Its data reveals that 38 per cent of people are now more open to dating those outside their ‘type’ and one in four (28 per cent) are placing less emphasis on dating people that others ‘expect’ them to.
In fact, a majority of people (63 per cent) are now more focused on the search for emotional maturity than on preferred physical appearance. This wisdom is perhaps the result of the recent phenomenon called the dating renaissance, a period described as the second chapter in people’s romantic lives. One in three (39 per cent) of those surveyed by Bumble have ended a marriage or serious relationship in the last two years. In India, 42 per cent of this group used dating apps for the first time and learnt to navigate new dating codes and languages.
Fashion content creator 32-year-old Isha Borah, who is originally from Assam but now resides in Singapore, summarises the sentiment of her generation with her story:
“It’s important to remember that love is worth giving multiple chances, even after failures.I was 25 when I found the love of my life while working in a corporate job. We instantly clicked and became best friends and after a few years, got married to each other. Before that, I had my fair share of bad relationships. I believe the right person comes at the right time.”
Prioritising Oneself
Shreya Banerjee, an events coordinator from Kolkata, recalls a horrific first date with a guy she met on an app. “He kept dropping the names of his hot and successful ex-girlfriends, and then went on to boast that he can have sex thrice a day,” she says, rolling her eyes.
Channelling her main character's energy, she prioritised her own needs over his and immediately checked out of the conversation. This is an apt example of guard railing, where people set clear dating boundaries from the beginning. Data from Bumble also suggests that 52 per cent of those surveyed were prioritising themselves by being clearer about their emotional needs, being more intentional about putting themselves out there (59 per cent), and not overcommitting to social events to prevent feeling overwhelmed (53 per cent).
Sybil Shiddell, Country Manager India for Gleeden, an app for those seeking extra-marital alliances, ascribes the reason for these arguably selfish numbers, to this generation being ‘spoilt for choice’.
She says, “They know that if something is not working out in one relationship, there’s always another one that can better cater to their romantic, sexual and emotional needs. This, a lot of times leads to a vicious cycle of superficial relationships.
Moreover, today, the world demands a lot from us personally and amid all the hustle, people tend to ignore the priority a relationship requires, which leads to miscommunication, misunderstanding, and not feeling seen, heard or understood. These are the major reasons we have so many relationships falling apart.”
Fortunately, this has pushed a number of young people to shift focus to achieving a love-life balance. Half of those surveyed prioritised work-life balance, and 54 per cent chose their partners on the basis of a healthy work-life balance over their career status. One in 10 (13 per cent) even stated that they will no longer date someone who has a very demanding job.
Sanya Puri from Delhi exemplifies this concept. “I’ve been with my partner for over 10 years, and we’re both ambitious. As a content creator, I was constantly working even on weekends, which made my partner feel uncared for. So, we spoke about it and arrived at an understanding of not working for more than two hours on weekends. This has worked for us,” says the 28-year-old.
Have Feet, Will Travel (And Love)
An interesting result of 31-year-old marketing professional Meetu Mendiratta’s obsession with K-dramas was her attraction to all things South Korean. Hence, she learnt the language and visited the country last year. Once there, she downloaded a dating app and soon matched with a couple of people.
One experience fizzled out in making only plans, a term she decodes as meaning that the potential date was only interested in ‘coming over’ without meeting outside first, while the second resulted in a fruitful date. “It was a fun experience and maybe I’ll get in touch with him when I return to Seoul, but we both knew this was a short-term thing,” she says.
This an unsurprising fact, considering that 12 per cent of Indians surveyed by Bumble find it easier to date in another country. Manu Nayyar from Kochi loves the flexibility of his work-from-home job as a content writer. Every month, the 29-year-old is off exploring a different part of India, and with it a variety of people. As a pansexual who is attracted to the person rather than their gender, he confesses to having the most enriching dating experiences on his travels.
“People from Kochi, whom I’ve known all my life, just don’t compare,” he shares speaking highly of his wanderloves or short-term inter-city romances. This ties in with the findings of a study conducted by the dating app QuackQuack, which shows that three out of seven daters between ages 25 and 30 are drawn to wanderlove. They are looking to date people from cities other than their own and travel to those places. “We frequently see daters setting up their location preferences far away from their hometowns,” observes the app’s founder and CEO, Ravi Mittal.
There is, however, a flipside to constantly travelling on a freelancer’s income, which Nayyar has learnt to counter with the practice of infla-
dating. Since he is usually on a shoestring budget, he is particular about splitting the bill with his dates and choosing alternative dating experiences that don’t break the bank.
He points to dry dating and simple activities like walking in the park as easy ways to do this. These experiences often lead to more real connections and allow him to be ethical in his sexploration. “It’s no longer about the sex; it’s about making a connection that can lead to great sexual experiences,” he adds. This is not to say people aren’t looking for enriching dating experiences in their hometowns as well.
School teacher Ratan Jha, 26, from Patna, for whom frequent travel is not an option, has only one demand displayed on his dating profile: ‘I hope to find some genuine people whose mindset is not from Bihar.’
Mittal believes that increased exposure allows young people to choose conscious dating, as reflected in the QuackQuack study where 41 per cent of users look for exclusive relationships, to pursue potential long-term partners.
When asked if urban dating experiences differ from small-town, Samarpita Samaddar, India Communications Director, Bumble, says, “People are taking charge of their dating journeys across India, including in tier II and III cities, especially post-pandemic. They are being more mindful of what they are looking for in a partner. Women, in particular, are more intentional about who they want to date.”
Throw Toxicity Out
Early last year, 30-year-old businessman Manjeet Bedi from Amritsar, thought he had met the one after swiping right on an app. They got along like a house on fire, seemed to have similar priorities in life, and by the end of the second date, declared that they liked each other. “But then our conversation kind of petered out. Since I have been ghosted earlier, I recognised the signs and decided to move on. Then four months later, she messaged me out of the blue asking if she could come over to my place to hang out. I was a bit surprised, but she was hot, so I didn’t refuse,” he says. After one steamy encounter, however, she was gone again, leaving Bedi scratching his head in confusion, “Are all girls like her nowadays? What am I supposed to do now? I don’t want to seem desperate by messaging her repeatedly.”
Bedi’s is a classic case of zombie-ing, which describes people who first ghost you, then come back into your life as if nothing has happened, only to disappear again. This phenomenon is also unfortunately on the rise. In his case, the episode of zombie-ing was also combined with breadcrumbing, where his date led him on by dropping just enough crumbs to keep him hooked. These kinds of toxic experiences are detrimental to one’s mental health, and in some cases can lead one to swear off dating apps, as happened with Chowdhury who chose to be consciously single.
This practice of choosing to be single allows people the freedom to break away from toxic situations at an early stage, so they can sign out before getting severely affected. This is also why modern masculinity, as opposed to the toxic patriarchal ideal of being ‘masculine’, is a popular dating trend in 2023.
Bumble’s study estimates that 74 per cent of men now have a clearer understanding of ‘toxic masculinity’ and what is not acceptable. This is even more pronounced in India where 47 per cent of men indicate they are actively challenging stereotypes that suggest that men should not show emotions, and more than half agree that breaking gender roles in dating and relationships is beneficial for them too.
In this context, 19-year-old content creator Alma Hussein from Mumbai narrates the story of her friend who was the victim of a relationship steeped in toxic masculinity. Her best friend was in a relationship for five years, during which she distanced herself from all her friends. She made her boyfriend her entire world, yet over the years, he started mistreating and ignoring her, often taking her for granted.
“While she continued to adore him, he stopped prioritising her. After numerous fights about the inequality between them, she finally ended it,” says Hussein, examining the situation.
“I feel that relationships can’t be forced. If someone is the right person for you, they would do anything for you, you deserve all the love and care from your partner. Disrespect, manipulation, and violence aren’t
love. Further, one should not live on the hope that the person will change later, as that rarely happens,” she adds.
So, what exactly sets modern dating apart from its predecessors? Is it a fickle practice that is doomed to fail or is there hope for the future of monogamous long-term relationships?
Aili Seghetti, who is an intimacy coach and founder of Mumbai-based The Intimacy Curator, an organisation that promotes self-discovery through emotional and sexual wellbeing, defines the crux of the problem as:
“These days, young people are looking for ‘everything’ in their relationships and that’s the main cause of distress and fear. They expect their partners to be their best friends, best sexual partners, confidantes, travel buddies, spiritual companions, bond with all their family members… It’s an extensive list and we forget that it never used to be like that,” she says, adding, they (or their parents) then compare modern relationships with those of the previous generation and feel that youngsters are failing. “The context is different and today we have more expectations in general, so it should be about prioritising one’s needs and finding out about oneself rather than finding the right
match,” says Seghetti.
Fortunately, it seems change is at hand this Valentine’s Day, as young people become more conscious of who they date and how they do it.
Shahzeen Shivdasani, Bumble’s India relationship expert, summarises: “No matter the kind of relationship you are in, it requires hard work to sustain, based on mutual respect and emotional connection. What we have noticed is that more and more millennials and Gen-Z now consider asking their partners if they feel safe and comfortable speaking up, seeking support and being open about where their boundaries lie. Open and honest communication with your partner(s) will help in navigating, prioritising the needs of other people involved and help strengthen the foundation of the relationship you choose to be in.”
(Some names have been changed on request to protect identity)