Back in the dating game

Few days ago, I was part of a very interesting AMA at the Bangalore Literature Festival titled “Love me Tinder.” Given that my dating experience came to a complete standstill circa 1996, I am probably the dating equivalent of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Back in our time, it was coffee and sweat smell that made matches. I’m guilty of hanging onto a sweat drenched T-shirt of the then to-be-spouse for yonks before he became the spouse, after which I got very prompt about doing the laundry. And of course, there was the “Get me an introduction,” whine on a loop of the newly besotted that plagued the immediate populace.

For much of our generation, dating was a thing of chance and location. You bumped into someone at the bus stop, railway station and exchanged phone numbers. Then, if you were a girl, you grew roots into the chair next to the phone. Sometimes you wondered if you would set the world record for bladder control, because you were terrified to move from the spot in case the phone rang.

Dating today is easier. And then again, not quite. The mobile and the internet allows for whatsapping and social media stalking, so you’ve probably gleaned much about the object of interest before the aforementioned call comes.

At times, there is no call but location, time and day settled via whatsapp or DM. Folks have met without the faintest idea of how the other person sounds like. And then there’s the Russian Roulette of the DPs, which could be faintly misleading, to put it mildly. I know folks who’ve sexted at escalating levels of imprudence without meeting, but found the chemistry flatter than a three-day-open bottle of soda in person.

A few friends are back into the dating game. I learn that middle-aged dating in an era of dating apps is, as a someone said, tap dancing in a minefield. One that they must learn to negotiate without getting maimed. “Do you text first? Do you wait for him to message? Does he use full sentences? What the hell does that emoji mean? What is proper protocol when replying to a hmmm?...It’s all so complicated,” says one.

Then there is the plague of the inbox messages. And lastly, the hook up culture, in the age of the left swipe is upon us, and god help us if we can’t quite get the impermanence it implies.

“Aren’t six dates exclusive anymore? I’m still to get the hang of this sleeping together on the first date thing... everything is so different,” complains a newly-divorced friend. “The good thing is that I’m clearer about what I want. And I can smell bullshit from a mile off, even if comes wearing an

Armani suit. I know all about contraception, and exactly what I want in bed.”

The difficult bits? “Definitely getting naked with someone new,” she confesses. “It’s been years of comfort with one partner. Now I confront all my body issues anew. A dark room is my ally.”

And, she confesses, while men her age are all looking for younger women, it is the younger men who find her attractive now. It is easy, she confesses, to get into relationships where neither of them are looking for permanency. “I’m not looking for Mr Right. I’m good with Mr Right Now. If he turns out to be Mr Right, I won’t complain though,” she says.

And she gets back to a conversation peppered with emojis that she hopes will lead to a date. “At least he uses the correct spelling...”

Kiran Manral is the author of six published books across genres. She is also a recovering Nutella addict

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