Butterchickenladki

Dear readers,

My life has finally changed for the better. And while it has been clear skies and calm seas, life isn’t fun without a little bit of drama and excitement. When nothing happens in our lives, we consciously or subconsciously go looking for this excitement. 

And when mine gets too mundane , I download dating apps. And I know for a fact that I am not the only one who does it, we’re all guilty of installing them out of boredom at least once. They give you the validation you want, you get to see how the dating pool in your city is, you meet new people, you find out about the relationship status of others and for better or for worse you start romanticising day-to-day life. 

While stirring, it also is a double edged sword. The dating life in my city is a post-apocalyptic nuclear waste-land. And before I go any further, I would like to add that, this is a personal experience, I am not generalising anyone or any experience. Some incidents have been embellished for dramatic purposes. This is entirely my personal opinion.

I went on my first date when I was 11 years-old, it was the cutest date ever, we shared ice-cream from the same cup, walked around for a while and kept exchanging glances. We were too scared to even hold hands. We kept “dating” for a very long time, on and off, until 11th grade, though it ended on a rather bitter note, it still is a fond memory to have.

I have had only two real relationships on my roster,. The one that began after 11th grade lasted for four years, and we broke up over two years ago. It was a tough breakup and I went through a lot after that, questioning every single thing since it began. I got cheated on and the aftermath was even worse.  I had the biggest case of “love goggles”. Once I was out of it, it made me realise that I was the only one in that relationship, I was the only one in love (What a dumbass). For him, I was just there at the right place and right time. 

The moment people knew I broke up (I DID NOT try to hide it one bit), I was congratulated. And that folks is how I knew I have very nearly escaped what could have been a mind-numbingly boring, emotionally exhausting relationship.

Look at me saying such things as if I didn’t use his t-shirt to wipe my tears and, what I believe was like a litre of snot.

My father tells me, I have a penchant for absolute losers, really the worst of the lot, and let me tell you, EVERYONE agrees. It’s like I’m a magnet. If you’re kind, funny, intelligent then I almost repel you, but if you’re a sexist gym bro who wears t-shirts that say “I love MILFS” unironically, step up because I am your girl. 

It has taken a while to unwrap that trauma, I didn’t even realise it was a trauma response but then again I stayed with someone who didn’t know how to iron clothes and fold them, and I thought it was “so cute” so technically I shouldn’t be so surprised. 

So while my saviour complex was busy having multiple orgasms, I was just floating in that weird Freudian relationship where I was basically his mother. And as I am typing this out I have the biggest ick. The mother off all icks (this was so intended, I’m not even trying to be subtle about it). 

As soon as I was a free woman, I did the next most obvious thing, I downloaded a dating app. In hindsight, it was not such a good idea. But at that time, I was living with my friends, away from home, so I had all the time in the world to make stupid choices and no one to stop me. 

I went on quite a few dates, some were fantastic while others, well, I’d have to wear a hazmat suit before I ever saw them again. 

Speaking of this, one particular gentleman comes to mind, let’s call him, Shmichael. Schmichael was a sports photographer, handsome and uncomplicated. He was the perfect rebound. We only talked about his life, his opinions and his work. I should have left then and there but I was vulnerable and sad and I needed to get my ex-boyfriend out of my mind. 

And because I had self-respect the size of an atom, I agreed for a second date. 

I still remember what he said “you’re hot for a chubby chick” and back then, believe me, I thought he was complimenting me. Talking constantly about my breasts. What an extravagant and amusing life I live.

Against my better judgement, I met him for a second date. Hungrier than before for the “validation” that I was going to get from Schmichael. We were having a perfectly normal conversation when I made the mistake of asking him what he thought about relationships. His response should have been enough for me to get up and run for my life, but oh poor young Gauri, she had no idea.  

He said and I quote “There are so many beautiful women in this world, why should I settle for one when I can share myself with them?”. I was so deluded, I thought he was indirectly telling me I’m beautiful! Even after this, I kept the conversation going. 

30 minutes into the date he said something so bewilderingly ridiculous, yes even more than “sharing himself”. 

The conversation had lead to us talking about menstruation. And this fine gentleman thought all women get their period at the same time. As if all the women of the world are synced. 

When I told him that isn’t how it works, he said and I quote again, “is it like time zones? Or phases of the moon?” And that’s exactly where I drew a line. I excused myself and went to the washroom, called my friend and told her to get me out of here. 

Exactly 10 minutes later I got a call saying something bad happened. So I paid for my two beers and bolted. I know I said that I had the self respect the size of an atom, and thats still about 0.1 nanometers. I took all of that 0.1 nanometers, put it in a cab and went home. 

Since then, I have been on quite a few dates (I’m brave as f**k). 

Schmichael has a strong contender, let’s call him Kutteshwar. I met Kutteshwar on Hinge. We met at a bar called Effingut, he was 25 minutes late. But he was cute so I let it go (I am shallow). We started talking and he seemed a bit quiet and boring until we found out that our fathers are in the same industry, and not only do they do business together but also went to the same university a few years apart. He freaked and begged me to not tell my father I went out with him.
The date was a bust, he was boring and predictable, and seemed very interested in something that did not involve talking. It eventually just fizzled because we didn’t keep in touch, obviously. A few weeks later, I found out through my parents that he was engaged! He was betrothed, affianced and all the other words for “GET OFF THIS DATING APP, YOU IDIOT”. 

I scoured his social media for at least one clue as to who she is but I couldn’t find anything. He was slick. I found out that it’s an arranged marriage. It all made a lot more sense. 

I couldn’t do anything except feel really sorry for the poor woman marrying him and move on.

Dating in this generation as we have seen and experienced is hard. It’s painful, disappointing and exhausting. It’s like a never ending charcuterie board, where you want to keep trying new flavours because “what if you find something that tastes better?”. Our search for the best has made dating impersonal.

In the history of humankind, we have never been more accessible or connected to each other than we are now. With the world in one hand, we’re letting originality of thoughts and ideas slip out the other. We’re constantly trying our best not to be scrutinised by people who don’t know us or have nothing to do with us. As humans, we’re becoming the same concept in different shapes and forms, just trying to stay relevant for as long as we can, until everyone gets bored moves on to the next new thing.

In a world where you can find boyfriends and bread on apps, where you can carefully curate the idea of how you would like others to perceive you, where you have an endless list of people and products right on a little device in your hand, what is, and is there a difference between “swipe right” and “add to cart”?