Love in the time of Tinder: Why we're so apologetic about being on the dating app

Editor’s note: So you’ve swiped right, exchanged numbers and got yourself a date on Tinder. What next? This is a 10-part series on the dating landscape among the young-ish and single-ish of India. Part VIII looks at why we’re so apologetic about being on Tinder. At a friend’s engagement party there was much joie de vivre as there always is when love is celebrated. Toasts were raised, drinks were clinked and the inevitable jest around the old ball and chain was made. Later in the night, a guest asked the couple a simple — and inevitable — question: “Where did you guys meet?” My friend’s fiancée looked at her in what can only be described as fright. My friend replied, “We — err — have a lot of common friends.” The guest scoffed, “No, you don’t. No one here knows one another.” It was true. There was an awkward silence, until the guest said, “You met on Tinder, didn’t you?” [caption id=“attachment_2840798” align=“alignleft” width=“380”] Why do we have to apologise for our desires — carnal or soulful? Image courtesy Tinder[/caption] My friend later told me that at first his fiancée was telling friends that they had met on Tinder. But when things got serious, far quicker than they imagined, and their families came into the picture, they became embarrassed and told them they’d met through work. It was an unlikely story — he’s a banker and she’s an architect. Nonetheless, the families didn’t question them. Then the lies, as is the fate of all lies, snowballed into something bigger. They ended up telling their work colleagues that they’d met through friends. They told their friends that they’d met through family. Soon, they couldn’t keep up with what lie they had told whom and the truth came out at their engagement. Frankly, no one would have cared if the couple themselves were not so apologetic about it. “We thought people would think our commitment to each other is frivolous. That we are shallow and superficial people,” my friend said, in defense of her stand. This has become a fairly familiar story in modern relationships. A lot of couples when asked how they met, pause as they search for an answer. They give vague replies, along the lines of “oh, here and there” or “we met online” or “I don’t remember”. They’re usually the ones who’ve met on Tinder or another dating app and feel guilty about it. But it’s not just couples that are afflicted by the Tinder Cringe. As we all know, there are a lot of married men on Tinder. Although they seem to assume that they have Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak from the hair of Demiguise, a lot of their wife’s friends or their common friends see them on Tinder. After all, their profiles are linked to their Facebook page, and inevitably mutual friends show up. So, the men make excuses. I saw a married friend on Tinder whose excuse was that he was “doing research”. “Research for what?” I asked. There was a long pause. “For my company. They wanted me to check recent fashion trends.” He worked for a garment exporter, not manufacturer. Another married friend took the cake when he said he was on Tinder “to find girlfriends for his single friends”! Married men are on Tinder for a variety of reasons, much like anyone else. Some want an affirmation that they’re still attractive, some want to cheat, some want to swing, some are curious, and some want cheap thrills. But here’s the catch-22: they want to be on Tinder without being seen on it, except by the type of women they think they’re on Tinder for. It’s wishful thinking and these falsities have created a tear in many a marriage. One would imagine that the single folks on Tinder are immune to the guilt inflicting the married ones. Apparently not. These people have a whole host of excuses for the Tinder Cringe, the funniest and most common one being: “My friend downloaded it for me and operates the account on my behalf.” I imagine a friend swiping left and right on someone’s mobile on a daily, if not hourly basis, and it’s absolutely implausible. Other excuses range from, “I didn’t even know I was on it” to “I downloaded it for kicks” or “It’s a joke”. No one will admit that they’re on Tinder for the reason that they are. To find love, companionship or — God forbid — to find sex partners. Most people are unflinchingly apologetic about being on Tinder. This is what I don’t understand. Since almost everyone is using Tinder — India is Tinder’s biggest market in Asia — why are we so embarrassed about it? A male friend tells me, “When I told my boss I was on Tinder he acted like I was walking down Kamathipura looking for prostitutes. He made me feel so cheap.” A female friend confesses that her married male friends thought she was easy game because they saw her on Tinder, even though she was emphatic that she was looking for a serious relationship. What the word ‘sex’ was to teenagers, the word ‘Tinder’ is now to adults. Why is there such a stigma attached to being on Tinder? Why does Tinder induce such strong reactions from people? It evokes giggles and coquettishness; a sense of something perverse that at once fulfills man’s needs and makes him debauched. The reasons are clear. The general perception is that anyone using Tinder is looking for casual sex. So, if a girl is using the app, she could be viewed as promiscuous, and a man could be viewed as sleazy. We think of people on Tinder as either superficial or desperate. Or, as society’s cretins who are not cool enough to meet people by themselves. We don’t think of them as someone who has exhausted their search for a partner through organic means, like friends and family, and is simply looking to find someone through a new channel that gives access to their needs. We apologise for being on Tinder. We apologise for being on Shaadi.com. Why are we constantly apologising? Why should we apologise for our needs — whether carnal or soulful? Why don’t we state what we want from life and from people, and own that desire? The explanation may have to do with more than the app: it is society. Dating in an Indian context is still viewed as flippant. Hardly anyone wants to be seen as a debauchee or vagrant. On top of that, Indians don’t know how to date. Till a few years ago, we’ve didn’t even have a dating culture or a good dating site. It is to counter such perceptions that Tinder is trying to shed the ‘hookup’ tag and position itself as a matchmaking product in India. The truth is that despite its caveats Tinder has its upsides. It’s a politer form of being approached by random unwanted strangers in a bar, making it more palatable for women. Unlike matrimonial sites, where matches are based on caste, complexion and salary, individuals can set parameters that aren’t merely transactional. A change in outlook, culture, lifestyle and demography, along with higher mobile Internet connectivity, means that more and more people are shifting to online dating apps. Isn’t it time we stopped trying to save face or dignity or the many other things that we think bolster our standing in society and instead listen to what our life demands of us? Meghna Pant is the award-winning author of Happy Birthday (2013, Random House) and One And A Half Wife (2012, Westland) Next week, read: Is Tinder India’s best dating app? Also in this series: Part I — “The Tinder Man” — the 10 guys you’ll see on Tinder Part II — “The Tinder Woman” — the 10 ladies you’ll meet on Tinder Part III — The first date — who asks, who pays, who gets laid? Part IV — The five worst Tinder dates Part V — When the Tinder date doesn’t match his/her photo Part VI — Does Tinder lead to casual sex? Part VII — Why Tinder has ruined love