There was a time when love meant patience. When waiting three days for a handwritten letter was more romantic than getting three texts in three seconds. Now, we swipe left on souls we never even gave a chance to feel.
I was sipping chai on my old college balcony the other evening, when my phone lit up with another “Hey, what’s up?” from someone I matched with hours ago. I didn’t even care to respond. Not because I was busy. But because I was tired.
Tired of this copy-paste culture of modern love.
We call it convenience, but deep down we all know — we’ve made love disposable. Fast love. Fast heartbreak. And a hundred unread conversations that feel like empty calories.
The Love My Grandparents Had
My grandfather wrote letters to my grandmother for four years while he was stationed away from home. Inked emotions that crossed cities. Letters that smelled like time. He would fold each page with precision, kiss it lightly (he actually did), and send it, hoping the wind wouldn’t swallow his words.
My grandmother told me once, “We fell in love through waiting. Through absence. Through not knowing when we’d meet next — but still being sure that we would.”
They fought too, I’m sure. But they never left because someone else was “just a message away.” They didn’t believe in plan B. They believed in working through plan A, no matter how long it took.
Today’s “Situationships”
What even is a situationship? We create labels for connections we’re too scared to define. Too scared to commit. We say things like:
- “Let’s not ruin what we have by calling it something.”
- “Let’s just vibe.”
- “Let’s not catch feelings.”
But aren’t feelings the whole point?
We’re more afraid of love than of loneliness.
We ghost each other in the middle of something beautiful because modern love says “don’t be too available.”
We call vulnerability “desperate.”
We think asking for clarity is “pressure.”
I hate that.
Conversations Are Dying
You remember that feeling when someone would actually call you and speak for hours, not just late-night texts with half-hearted replies and double-taps on memes?
Now we use emojis to replace actual feelings.
A heart react instead of saying “I miss you.”
A fire emoji instead of “you looked really beautiful today.”
A story reply instead of a real conversation.
We have more ways to connect than ever — and yet, we’ve never felt lonelier in love.
Dating Apps: The Fast-Food of Emotions
Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.
He’s hot. She’s decent. Bio’s funny. Superlike.
But when did love become a slot machine?
We’re collecting people like trading cards.
Dating apps have made us think there’s always someone “better” one scroll away.
So we keep scrolling. But we never settle. Because settling today is considered failure. But back then, it was called building something that lasts.
The Magic We’ve Lost
Old-school love was slow-cooked. Like daal simmering on a stove for hours.
Modern love is microwaveable — quick, hot, and forgettable.
There was magic in handwritten letters, nervous eye contact, mixtapes, waiting by the phone, walking home together under one umbrella. There was a rhythm to love — not a rush.
Back then, we didn’t have to announce our relationships on social media. They were sacred, not a performance.
So What Now?
I’m not saying love was perfect before. But it was real. It had weight. It took effort. It wasn’t about aesthetics — it was about emotion.
I hate modern day love because we’ve traded depth for dopamine.
We used to build relationships on trust, now we build them on streaks.
We used to fall for the person, now we fall for their profile.
We used to wait days just to hear someone’s voice. Now, we mute them on WhatsApp when they call too much.
I don’t know if I’ll find that kind of love anymore. But if I ever do, I hope it feels like silence that doesn’t feel awkward.
Like eye contact that doesn’t need words.
Like slow dancing in a kitchen at midnight.
And maybe — just maybe — like the kind of love that doesn’t need WiFi.
If you still believe in old-school love, don’t let the world make you feel outdated. You’re just rare. And rare things? They’re priceless.
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