Lover girls are the tragic clowns of modern dating. They are keeping romance alive

The Print

4 days ago

They won't stop twirling until they find a husband. It's easy to laugh — and I will — but let's be clear: Lover girls aren't delusional because they're 'actively looking for love' online. It's about how they go about it.
Urban Dictionary describes the trope as 'a woman who enjoys being in love or is obsessed with the idea of love and relationships'. Obsessed is the keyword here. Even in a world regressing into a war-torn hellscape, these resilient, straight women are posting slo-mo videos of themselves dancing with their dupattas on dating apps.
Do you identify as a woman who writes back an essay to a Hinge boy's nonchalant 'what's up'? Are you not scared to double- or triple-text when left on read by a hopeful match? And do you click pictures of cozy couples in public to post on your Instagram and ask in the caption, 'Me and who?' Congrats, you're the tragic clown of modern dating: the certified lover girl. No shame in it. Laufey just dropped a song for you.
An object of devotion
We live in the era of heterofatalism — which is a widespread cultural fatigue with straight relationships because men are not pulling their weight emotionally. Being attracted to them feels like a curse. Which is why the fact that the lover girl still walks among us is kind of insane. She's wildly ambitious — and occasionally feral, calling 20 times in a row if you don't reply fast enough.
A lot of these girlies have Mr Darcy on their vision board — but they don't roll like Miss Elizabeth. Unlike the sharp-tongued and unbothered Jane Austen heroine, they act like rats sniffing around for crumbs of affection. It's not that they lack self-respect — they've just put it on a little sale for whichever emotionally unavailable dude they're currently fixated on. No new-age Machiavellian mating tactics are played on him. He's the object of her — barf — devotion.
A 26-year-old children's book editor in Delhi is a self-identified 'shameless lover girl'. She's known to be buying surprise gifts for men who show boyfriend potential. 'I believe in giving,' she said. Recently, she bought a green shirt from Snitch to compliment the brown eyes of a guy she met on Bumble. What motivated her to do that? His replies had started to slow down. Her logic is that 'people need encouragement to know they're wanted.' It didn't help, so she's now considering a bigger gift. Would a kidney do the trick?
Others like her go as far as writing entire poetry books, painting murals, baking banana bread, and even offering to pay for therapy for men — regardless of whether they reciprocate such feelings.
Romantics like them are constantly being bombarded with reels about anxious attachment. For every hundred blogs and thousand X threads telling love-crazy women to heal, journal, and focus on themselves, a million others are cheering them on. 'You do you, queen' is the mission statement. If the epidemic of polyamory has put monogamy on life support, these lover girls are out here doing chest compressions to keep it alive. It's embarrassing to watch.
Also read: Why do women reject men so brutally? It's kinder than breadcrumbing
High-functioning addicts
Dating gurus on Instagram — those who haven't already dismissed lover girls as idiots or 'pick me'nuts — are tired of reminding Gen Z that the trope was never about romanticising neglect. Apparently, the authentic lover girl way of life is even harder. It's about standing (shakily) in the shame of vulnerability and still asking for the kind of love you want. And sadly, no amount of stalking, manifesting, or pulling the 'will-he-text' tarot card can conjure romance. It has to exist in the first place.
Most women who call themselves 'recovering lover girl' in their dating bios have made peace with the cold, hard truth of it all. But really, many are just high-functioning addicts — still mainlining hope, just in smaller, more self-aware doses.
Take a Delhi-based dating columnist, for example. Word on the street is that she frequently rejigs her 'healthy roster' of talking stages just so she doesn't fixate on the one guy who never quite left her contact list. She is not me.
This article is part of a series of columns on modern dating in India—the good, the bad and the cuddly.
Views are personal. The author tweets @ratanpriya4.
(Edited by Aamaan Alam Khan)