Relationships open letter generation Z hook-ups

This Modern Day Love Letter Will Make You Throw Up At The Hook-Up Culture

( words)
*For representational purpose only.

Dear Boy Who Wants To Take Us To The "Next Level",

Let me get a few things straight with you!

"No man is worth my happiness"

You think it's an easily made conviction? Well, think again. It takes a life-shattering heart break to form in your head. But once you have it, it's easy to keep. Why? It is logical. And everybody should do whatever is logical. No man is worth my happiness, so I discard him as quickly as I can. Your turn is not too far. I don't even care if you could be a potential partner. And a relationship is WAY out of the question. I never cry over anybody anymore. Why? Because Fergie said "It's a lot of men, I know I can find another." I hook up with whomever I want without caring for log kya kahenge, disregarding the way my mother raised me, and having zero faith in the concept of love. Because I can. I have the choice. I am the super-seductress-heart-breaker. Come on, I am a woman in India who likes having sex. My lifestyle is not difficult to maintain.

But you know what's difficult? Romance is difficult. Pretending that you're in it for anything other than sex is difficult. Feeling obligated to give a f*** about another human being is difficult. Making the effort to send out a Good Morning message is bloody painfully difficult.

I could have the best cut of beef in the middle of Mumbai (if you know what I mean), and I will still be eyeing the Vada Pav on the street. Because money can buy me fancy whiskey but only the hari mirchi will make my mouth water. Nothing sways me anymore- not money, not intelligence, not charm, not good looks, nor big d***s. I am just the f***-all avalanche burying the eligible bachelors of the country. I want to scream at those hopeless guys! "I won- you can't break my heart anymore! You can't give me 'love'. I don't even let you give me an orgasm. You pound me with all the might you've got, willing for me to respond.

You think you can really f*** me? You amuse me. I simply don't get it when you say you "love" me. Why the hell should I be "the one"? What is the meaning of all this? Because I know that one woman will never be enough for you, just the way one man will never be enough for me. I am too much for just one guy. I have an insatiable appetite for the universe. I think that just means I have a high-speed broadband connection. I can find you, and so many others as inadequate as you are via mutual friends on Facebook. Or maybe I'll try my luck on Tinder.

I don't give a flying f*** about you. Yet, you will use a hundred euphemisms to tell me that you love me. You will deal a new hand of cards that I have never seen before. When "I feel like I've known you since eternity" becomes an old line, you will say "I want to take you home". Not home where we can have sex... Home- where mom lives. And when you say that, I won't know what hit me. You think intimacy is a hug. I mock at you for being naive. Then you hold my head to you when we embrace. And I won't know what hit me. You don't believe in cheesy romantic gestures. I thank God for that. Then you grin like a happy cat when Gandi Baat plays on the radio. And I won't know what hit me.

You never tell me that I am wrong. You don't react violently when I tell you that I'm seeing other men. You leave my ideologies unquestioned. And then you fill my life with uncomplicated joy. Every time the sky is clear, you take me to a rooftop restaurant. For even though I can only identify the Orion, you know I like looking at stars. And when I wear my extra-high heels and stand taller than you are, you won't bat an eyelid before you walk me into a nightclub full of your drunk friends. Maybe my idea of intimacy is messed up. I don't know how to spark romance anymore. I don't understand love. But you fill my life with little details that make me wonder why you're on my mind even on a Tuesday morning. You make me wonder if I'm really unwilling to commit, or if I'm just commitment-phobic. You make me wonder if it is indeed possible for two people to love each other. I can't believe this is the outcome of swiping right!

Could I love you? I don't believe it for a second. Then why do I feel this way? What is this liberating, unburdened happiness that feels nothing like the passionate heartache I used to know as "love"? 

Commit. Settle down. Love. This is the scary business of being in a relationship. 

What if I wake up one day and find that your "Good morning" message came without a kiss? What if you refuse to change your relationship status on Facebook for me? What if you go clubbing with your friends without me? What if we don't manage to make people jealous with our clicks on Instagram? What if we're just not the picture perfect couple? Doesn't it scare you that you'll be terribly disappointed? Nobody deserves anything that's less than perfect, and I don't want one more ex-boyfriend. That is why we hook-up. That is why we are the hook-up generation. Because when I'm frustrated with how badly you dance, I'll find a better dancer. And when he bores me, I'll maybe find an amateur footballer. I fight so much to keep these convictions alive, and you break them by the dozen just as easily as I break the capillaries beneath your skin. One silent move, and there's a vivid reminder staring back at you everyday.

You love me with silence- by staying clear of me Monday through Thursday because you belong to the weekends only. You love me with surprise- if I send you a boobie picture when you just said that you "wish you could see me". You love me with disappointment- when I wake up in the morning and hurry to leave.

Every minute I spend with you, you undo my inability to love. It scares me that you can. You're crumbling the fortress that took me a long time to build. Don't make me love again and flood my existence with powerfully illogical emotions. Don't upset my careful balance of what my mind wants and what my body wants. Don't forget that the heart only wants bad cholesterol.

Remember- this is how we love now.

Yours (not), The Girl Who Cannot Love 

Share This Story

You Might Also Like...