I was in Bangalore recently on a teaching assignment and bumped into a 29-year-old man at a girlfriend’s. We were introduced and the conversation veered towards dating in India – ‘instant hook-ups’, traditional institutions like arranged marriage losing steam to easier options like dating websites/apps – fast-paced and feisty. The young man, a regular on the scene and still single – being constantly referred to as a ‘man whore’ by my friend – shared his valuable insights.
How women gave blowjobs in elevators. Sexted serially and Watsapped naked pics –intimacy at one’s fingertips? One 20-something he’d met at a pub about 7-ish, got sloshed, then proceeded for dinner at an upscale eatery, before hitting a disco. Finally, at 4 am when the young man wanted to drop her home, she demanded a long drive, saying she’d told her parents she’d be out late.
“Basically, no one dates for love, it’s just good sex,” he added.
The Perils of Texting and Sexting
It was an interesting hour. Particularly since I felt like a dinosaur, the way ET would feel if he starred in Interstellar.
I mean I was 37, single, not on Tinder and found most of the men on dating sites creepy and sex starved, or both. And maybe commitment was passé, as was conversation, simple and real. The young man didn’t waste any time with me either. He had a weird habit of saying, “Wassup?” In fact, I should’ve seen it as my first red flag. Man who can’t even form a full sentence – composing sloppy poetry next and praising my pictures in saris.
“Beautiful or hot?” I texted back, wanting to read between the lines. Also, you get to a certain stage when you have heard every possible pick up line, about every particular body part you have. Because, let’s face it, everyone is looking to get laid here.
We had some late night conversations, before he got to first base. “Can I do you?” he joked. Asshole! My insides screamed and yet I let it pass. I was tired, and sometimes a man with a nice voice at the end of a tiresome day in a strange city, is strangely comforting. Quickly, I was asked to go out on a date. I said okay to coffee. “I can book a service apartment, Uber for the whole… let’s be out the full night…”
“I don’t know you that well. Besides, why pre-plann a first date? Not comfortable with being out all night, and, staying with family friends.”
I was sure I sounded too immaculate to a man who’d probably never had to try this hard.
Are Men ‘Mishearing’ a Woman’s Consent?
Or has it actually gotten this complicated – our attempt to oversimplify relationships? Courtship is dead. Flirting? The more in your face, the better. Having sex ASAP. What about what a girl wants? Is consent easily confused by Indian men, used to receiving mixed signals and most often getting married to lose their virginity – soon impregnating their wives to score a point in the manhood department? Is a kiss on the first date now about spreading my legs?
“You’re very conservative. I mean, you give out an erotic vibe in your sari pics,” he texted.
I also wrote India’s first feminist erotica. But should that mean I be sex candy to a younger man, in search of sexperimentation? Indulge in a quickie, sans a build-up? Can a woman not decide when she wants to do it. And how. In a rented apartment, for a night? Or not at all?
“Most South Indian men love Bong chicks, they think you are horny and available,” a friend commented.
What it’s Like to be a Woman in the World of ‘Fast’ Dating
Truth be told, it hurt. What was I doing wrong? How do women attract this energy back? So if I wear a backless blouse and text you back past midnight, does this automatically mean I am not sati savitri, but Silk Smitha?
“He slept with me for three months, and then said he just wants to be my friend. He wasn’t looking for anything long-term and yet he’d worship me. When he says ‘I like you’, it means I want to f*** you,” a common friend explained to me the modus operandi of my new texting friend.
I thought of our proposed date. How does a woman distinguish between the many frogs she’s gotta kiss before Prince Charming arrives? I also questioned whether I was a rare tribe – successful and independent, valuing her traditions – as much as she loves her tequila shots. Owns her kanjeevarams, as she does her halters. Loves being wooed, the way she loves world peace.
Yes, I’d like a bit of worshipping, thank you. But I’d rather be worshipped as a woman with her own mind than a primitive goddess!
(The writer is an ex lifestyle editor and PR vice president, and now a full-time novelist and columnist on sexuality and gender, based in Delhi. She is the author of ‘Faraway Music’ and ‘Sita’s Curse’. Her third book ‘You’ve Got The Wrong Girl’ is out next.)
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