At a coffee shop in Hauz Khas Village, 22-year-old Ananya scrolls through her phone while Rohan sips his cold brew across the table. They've been seeing each other for eight months, weekend brunches, late-night drives around Lodhi Road, the occasional movie. But ask if they're ‘together’, and both hesitate. "We're… figuring it out," Ananya says with a shrug. "Why rush a label when rent is ₹18,000 and my internship ends in June?"
As Valentine's Day approaches, Delhi's young adults are increasingly opting for situationships—casual, label-free connections that offer intimacy without the weight of commitment. In a city where a one-bedroom apartment in Saket costs more than many entry-level salaries, and dating apps give you endless options with a swipe, traditional romance is finding itself taking the backseat.
On Delhi University's North Campus, economics majors debate more than monetary policy. "My parents had one courtship, one marriage," says Vikram, a 21-year-old SRCC student sitting on the lawn in front of his college. "But we're juggling internships, UPSC prep, and ₹15,000 PG rents. A 'relationship' means splitting dinner bills and commitments. A situationship? It's just… nice company between deadlines." His friend Priya nods in agreement: "Last Valentine's Day, my boyfriend expected a ₹5,000 dinner at Khan Market. Instead I spent ₹200 on coffee with someone I actually enjoy talking to. There was no pressure from both sides."
‘We text when free’
Other young adults too think in similar lines. At a coworking space in Connaught Place, 26-year-old software engineer Meera explains how her 9-to-7 job leaves little energy for relationship maintenance. "After commuting two hours daily, the last thing I want is to plan 'date nights' or meet his family. With Arjun, we text when free. Sometimes we grab takeaway after work. It's easier and no strings are attached." She pauses. "Traditional dating feels like another job with emotional KPIs."
Dating apps have accelerated this shift. Swiping culture normalises ambiguity—why define something when the next match is a thumb-swipe away? "Tinder taught me that 'talking' doesn't mean 'exclusive,'" admits Rohan between sips of coffee. "Why lock in when you're still figuring out your own life? My dad married at 25. I'm currently 25 and can't afford my own kitchen."
Yet this isn't emotional detachment—it's adaptation. At a Noida Sector 18 hangout, a couple in their mid-twenties share headphones, laughing over a playlist. When asked about their status, the woman smiles wryly: "We've been 'seeing each other' for a year. No labels, but he brought soup when I had dengue. Isn't that what matters?" Her partner adds: "Valentine's Day? We'll probably get coffee and have a nice time. Just… the two of us and we will see how it goes."
Survival a priority
Psychologists note this reflects a generation recalibrating romance for urban survival. "When housing costs consume 40% of income and job security is fragile, commitment becomes a risk calculation," explains Dr. Neha Malhotra, a Delhi-based therapist. "Situationships aren't rejection of love, they're love adapted to precarity."
Yet when the ‘situationship’ between two individuals ends, the emotional dependency and vulnerability that quietly builds over months does have negative repercussions on both the parties, Malhotra admits.
Still, the approach carries quiet costs. Ananya admits loneliness sometimes creeps in during festivals. "When cousins post wedding photos, I wonder if I'm avoiding something real." But she quickly adds: "Then I remember my friend who broke up after her boyfriend refused to split rent. Maybe we're just… smarter."
Not betting on tomorrow
As February 14 nears, Delhi's shops and billboards scream of roses and diamonds. But in cafés and shared apartments across the city, a quieter shift is occurring. Young adults are crafting intimacy on their own terms, prioritizing presence over promises and flexibility over formality. They're not rejecting love; they're refusing to let it drain them emotionally or financially.
This Valentine's Day, the most radical act might not be grand gestures, but the courage to say: "I enjoy your company today. Tomorrow, we'll see." In a city racing toward an uncertain future, sometimes the most honest connection is the one without a label, just two people sharing coffee, rent worries, and a moment of peace before the next swipe, the next deadline, the next metro ride home. Love, it turns out, doesn't always need a certificate. Sometimes, it just needs a table for two.
(Written by S Keerthivas)