Mastering the meet-cute: New hacks emerge in India’s dating landscape

Some young Indians have now been on dating apps for seven years (since the launch of Tinder in 2016); dated through a pandemic; seen their priorities shift and become clearer.

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The combination of habit, exhaustion and post-pandemic clarity is changing the rules. It’s a shift defined by three prongs: transparency, purpose-driven interaction, and enhanced screening filters. Together, they are meant to make the hit-and-miss dating process less wasteful (particularly in terms of time and money) and help arm both people with enough information to efficiently decide how to proceed.

“The pandemic brought two big factors to the fore, when it comes to dating: the fear of mortality and a sense of amplified loneliness,” says dating and relationship coach Simran Mangharam. “People have come out of it very conscious of how they are using their time and finances, and driven by a sense of self-protection.”

Rather than a good first impression, then, the aim is to present authentic selves. So rather than drinks and dinner, meet-ups may be alcohol-free (to keep the mind clear); include events aimed at illuminating both personalities, such as a stand-up comedy show, a bike ride across the city, or a few rounds of a board game.

“I’ve had first dates at amusement parks and on long motorcycle rides because they bring with them an element of thrill and surprise. You see a lighter, more relaxed version of your date and the conversation is more free-flowing,” says Bodhi Mallick, 28, a quality assurance manager from Kolkata.

This becomes additional information layered onto impressions gathered from online chats and profile badges. Bumble has added more of the latter this month (Therapy, Mindfulness, Time Offline). In January, Tinder rolled out a set of predefined relationship-goal tags (Long-Term, Short-Term, Open to Long-Term, Open to Short-Term, Still Figuring it Out). Additional tags are being added within profile information (Monogamous, Polyamorous, Open to Exploring, Liberal, Right-Wing, All Rights are Human Rights, The Climate Crisis is Real).

Mumbai entrepreneur Prakruti Maniar, 29, has tags indicating that she believes in sustainability, and therapy. She makes it a point to refer to her political views in online conversations, to ensure common ground on core issues. She also adheres to self-enforced deadlines: by the end of two weeks of chatting online, one must meet the candidate or politely end the conversation. “Online-only relationships can become time sinks,” she says.

“The huge shift in approach, post-pandemic, is that people are prioritising honesty and transparency,” says psychotherapist Shanaya Boyce, who held mental-health Q&As on Discord, aimed at helping young people, during the pandemic. “A lot of my clients who are under 30 want to share their anxieties, insecurities and vulnerabilities early on. They want their partners to see them for who they really are, not as some ideal. This is quite unlike the traditional approach to dating, which focused on putting one’s best self forward.”

The revised approach fosters creativity too. Maniar, co-founder of Purple Pencil Project, a platform that aims to help young Indians explore Indian literature, has been on Tinder since it was launched in India, and says she realised earlier this year that she was wasting time she couldn’t afford to waste. She now merges first dates with an activity she wants to pursue anyway; so far these have included playing pool and bowling.

Next on her list are Pilates, salsa classes and a cooking session. “Such dates also feel more organic, almost like a pretend meet-cute rather than an interrogation across a table,” she says. And they let her gauge how her date responds, to competition, new experiences, to losing and winning.

Mallick, in Kolkata, would agree. The unexpected dates give him butterflies in his stomach, he says, “something I had stopped feeling on regular coffee dates.” He is now three months into a relationship with someone he met on Tinder. They had their first date at an amusement park.

“I’ve had clients go to motivational talks together on a date, to indicate that they are open to having difficult conversations,” Mangharam says.

Around the world, organised initiatives are refocusing the search by prioritising meaningful offline meetings too. Earlier this year, the Pear Ring, a small, pale-green band, made news worldwide for its innovative formula. Put it on and it indicates, to anyone who recognises it, that the wearer is open to being approached. One can wear it at the airport, in a bar, at the gym, on vacation; slip it off when one wants to step away from the search.

Stepping away has become a key function as well, to ease the sense of relentlessness that serial dating can evoke. Towards this end, the dating app Thursday, launched in 2021 and operational in London and New York, is active on just one day a week. It matches users and lets them chat online, but its USP is a curated list of meet-ups and events held on Thursdays only, which users can attend singly or in groups.

In India, an offline-focused initiative called Prem-a-Culture was launched in 2021, with a focus on hikes, trails and meet-ups in Mumbai. Applicants are vetted through an application form and interview. The gatherings are alcohol-free.

“The idea was to create a space where people can connect deeply with themselves and find like-minded partners, over calming activities such as walks amid nature,” says mindfulness-based counsellor Geetika Arora, co-founder of the initiative. “We believe this can help people communicate better with themselves and pursue a more genuine connection.”

Periodically simplifying and decluttering is important, because amid all the bells and whistles, alerts and hashtags, the search can become more complicated and stress-laden than it needs to be. “In the end, not all the tags, badges, filters and checklists can guarantee a great match,” says Mangharam. “Just be kinder to yourself and to your date, and just talk.”