I Attended A Sensorial Dating Event. It Was Weird, Wonderful and Oddly Eye-Opening.

I am quite a typical participant for such a thing: A cis-het woman, 27 years old, living in the metropolis of Delhi. On the dating front, I am, like many others in my generation that falls somewhere between Millenials and Gen-Z, tired of the monotonous drill of small talk on dating apps and okay-ish first dates. I am single and not in the headspace for meaningless hookups. Most boys bore me, but maybe it’s me, not them, OK!

Whatever it is, I’d never attended an offline dating event before, let alone a sensorial one. So I knew this would be quite the experience. My friends anyway insist I put myself “more out there”, so why not!

It was being held at Social in Nehru Place, and we were told to wear black and not wear any perfume. 

I tried pep-talking myself but it was anxiety talking: Should I still dress date-appropriate, or casual? I think a mix, considering it’s an afternoon event. Let me go with blue jeans and a black top, but at least the top has to have a deep neckline. It’s not like it’s not a date at all. It is something like that.

— — —

I reach the venue just after 3 in the afternoon and am handed a full face mask, similar to what the guards in the Netflix show ‘Squid Game’ wore. 

Anxiety shows up again, oddly sounding like the title character from ‘Fleabag’: Damn, I don't wear contacts and can’t wear my glasses under the mask. God, please don’t make me trip today. That’s really not the first impression I want to make. Jennifer Lawrence looks sexy tripping over her dress. Not mere mortals like me.

I am given a sticky label with ‘H4’ written on it, to stick on my top, and figure that these labels will identify everyone as names can’t be revealed. 

Upon entering, I see chairs arranged in rows facing each other. Most chairs are taken already, with girls sitting on one row and boys facing them; of course, everyone is in full face masks. I am told to take one at the end of a row. That’s what I do.

I’m extremely fidgety and nervous as I sit down. I pick up a tiny notebook and pen kept on my chair. Thoughts run wild: Where do I keep my bag? Ugh, why is my nose twitching now, I can’t scratch it for another hour or more! How is the girl next to me sitting so calmly? 

The person sitting opposite me is in a black shirt and is wearing a beaded wristband. When you can’t see someone’s face, you become oddly observant about other tiny details, I see. His legs are spread apart, and I wonder some more: Is that to avoid any contact with me? Should I cross my legs to make him more comfortable?

The event starts with Akshay introducing himself and Aili Seghetti, the founder of The Intimacy Curator, and the premise of the event. He underlined that consent is of utmost importance, so everyone must ask for consent at every step of the way. 

And then he introduces the first round. 

Sound: Trying Hard to Not Judge What They Say

In the first round, people are asked to come close to the person opposite them and talk in hushed tones. We are asked to note down how another person’s voice feels. For talking points, we are told to describe our favourite holiday destination or a dish we love. Specifically, we are asked to not talk about ourselves, or reveal names or professions. 

The boy opposite me leans in: “So my favourite dish is chicken kappa…”

Chicken what now? Katsu? Kung pao? Khatta? Didn’t hear and can’t even ask. 

“Minced chicken, with rice. It’s like soul food. I can make it, but I mostly order it. I can also make good cocktails to go with it…” he continues. 

Thirty seconds are up before I know it, and it’s my turn to speak. I describe a holiday in the mountains. I’m evidently nervous, I realise, because I keep fumbling with my sentences. I end by asking what his label said because, without glasses, I can’t read, and it’s very odd to lean so close to a stranger’s shirt. 

This done, all the guys are instructed to shift one chair to their right, so I have a new person in front of me. Once I “experience sound” with him, he’s asked to shift to his right, which puts in motion a rotational sequence, where all the boys get a turn with all the girls. I have to go through all 11 of them, though only with consent. 

Boy 2 talks about golgappe. 

Should I voice my loyalty to phuchka, or will that just start a pointless argument?

The next one says, “Oh, I am not much of a chef so I’m gonna tell you about my hobbies. I love stargazing, and mentalism.”

Umm okay? Go away.

My turn and I begin with trying to describe a Bengali chicken curry, a Sunday staple, and he stops me, “Tell me your hobbies, na!” 

Oh god, just why? You’ve been given instructions, just follow, na! 

One guy tries hard to make a shakshuka recipe sound sexy and sensual, and I’m immediately thinking about the ‘Friends’ episode where Monica is asked by a perverted boss to describe what she’s cooking. 

Okay, focus! Focus on how their voice sounds, and not what they’re saying. It’s hard, I know!

With another boy, I start talking about how I love Delhi because the mountains are so close by, and the boy stops me: “Who goes to Himachal ya, it's so crowded!”

Well, did I ask?! Who wants your expert opinion? The typical male overconfidence EW.

All 11 done, I’m back to facing the guy who’d described the chicken-something dish. It’s the smell round next. 

Smell: How Do You Describe Natural Human Scent? 

We are instructed to smell someone’s natural body odour, from their necks (or armpits, if both parties are cool with that) to see what the pheromones feel like. 

The most awkward round for me, because I would keep negotiating in my head about how close is too close. 

No armpits. No. Just no. 

It’s difficult to describe how people smell, and I keep feeling that everyone smells like normal humans. I can tell some people have used mild body mists or shampooed their hair right before the event. Someone slightly boastfully mentions a Nappa Dori conditioner, and I think, didn’t they make leather bags?

Someone else decides to breathe near my neck for too long and gives me tickly goosebumps.

I’m mostly left with the realisation that smell probably doesn’t do much for me, and I think back to people I’ve been attracted to in the past. I think if they’ve smelt normal, not sweaty or gross, I've been good. 

Next round, touch. 

Touch: Gives Away More Than I Expected

Participants can only touch the hands and forearms of the opposite person, from fingertips to elbows. 

I love this round. I never knew I could guess so much about a person by the way they touched me. 

The beaded wristband guy is the first one I begin the round with, like all the previous rounds. He seems so comfortable that I end up asking him: “Is physical touch your love language? You make this round seem too easy!” He says it is, and I joke how I’m always doing the rounds with him as a nervous mess. 

I have to hold some clammy hands too. Some have a confident, firm grip. Some nervous touches. Some keep it short 

One keeps asking me “Are you liking this?” 

Liking what? That one pattern you just made? Overall, the round? The event? You? How rude is it to say ‘no’ at this point anyway?

One even gives me a gentle massage.

That’s new. And weird. 

One ends with a handshake. 

Okay, not romantic at all. 

I’m horrible at masking my emotions, so thank god for the masks. Nobody needs to see the wide range of expressions I’ve had through the rounds, from confusion to laughter to eye rolls to sometimes even pure shock. 

Time for the next round, sight. Masks off, almost. And finally a glimpse of what the people actually look like. 

Sight: Gaze, Don’t Talk

By now, I have done the last three rounds with everyone. I decide to do this round with only six of the boys. This is the round where masks are lowered or lifted partially, so I can see half their faces. 

I enjoy it when people hold my gaze. Some are clearly fidgety and find it hard to look into my eyes for 30 seconds straight. 

Some compliment my eyeshadow. “You have pretty eyes,” says another. Number 4 seems very, very familiar, but I can’t recollect how. 

God, please, let me not meet people I know. Not here.

But hands down, the standout from this round is the boy who breaks the no-speaking rule and claims, “I can read your mind, you know….” 

Umm okay? 

“I can tell you what you’re thinking. I can tell you your sun sign… Think about your sun sign”

What the hell is happening? The mask is off, Rupsha, please control your expressions. 

“Does it have an ‘R’ in it?” he asks, stuck with the sun sign. 

I nod in the affirmative. 

“Does it have ‘A’?” 

I shake my head, eyebrows raised, lips pursed. 

The moderator says 30 seconds are up, and the boy has to shift. “Virgo?” says the boy, just before getting up.

Mind blown. What just happened? 

There is already too much happening. Obviously, the next couple of rounds, while looking into someone’s eyes, all I can think of is: Did he really read my mind or was it a method of elimination using that ‘R’ and that ‘A’?

Ugh, concentrate on the present boy, Rupsha! 

Some eyes give away that they are much younger, which I am not quite into. Some eyes are more focused and carry more intent than others. 

I narrow it down to five boys for the next round, perhaps the most intense round: taste. 

Taste: Slow and Steady Wins

This is a kiss round, and of course, as for all other rounds, you only do what you’re comfortable with. This is also the round where the masks come off totally. 

The first boy, with the beaded wristband, explains that he’s enjoyed all the previous rounds with me and that he’d like to kiss me. Then adds, “I’m anyway your trial round, na? So we should try this out too.”

Humour is always attractive, so I laugh and okay the kiss. It’s short, sweet, gentle. 

Interestingly, and honestly, quite flattering is the fact that out of the 11, 10 express an interest in kissing me. I try to keep it as gentle as I can while saying no to some. 

One guy I’d liked based on previous rounds, just goes at it when I say yes to a kiss. Tongue and all.

Isn’t it understood that in an event like this, with a stranger, you’ll not use the tongue? Stop trying to reach for my tonsils, ew. 

I instinctively pull back. I guess some others may enjoy people taking charge, being confident and mildly aggressive while initiating a kiss, but I realise I clearly don’t. 

I like two or three guys based on all five rounds, and am even keen on finding out more about them. We are then told that we can now lose the masks and hang out, mingle, get to know people better. 

I can now see the guy with the beaded wristbands. Like properly. I have finally taken out my glasses and put them on, you see. 

Quite cute, and I liked all the rounds with him, hmm!

“Can we get a drink together,” he says, smiling, as soon as I look up. “Sure!” I say. 

-- -- -- 

Rounds done, we met several others whom we’d “experienced” in the previous rounds. The guy who seemed familiar in the sight round turned out to be someone I had met earlier, except he was wearing contacts, and not his glasses, so looked slightly different. The mentalist guy, the one about the sun sign, was carrying with him a pack of cards, and became insistent on showing people ‘magic’.

I was quite enjoying my drink with the wristband guy, but a thought crossed my mind of trying to find the one or two others I’d also liked. I felt like that Deepika Padukone character from ‘Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani’, telling myself, “Life me jitna bhi try karo, kuch na kuch toh chhootega hi; toh jahan hain wahin ka maza lete hain”, and decided against looking for the other boys. 

Anyway, here’s a picture from a date when I met the wristband guy again the next day. The chicken dish I’d not comprehended in round one was Chicken Krapow, a Thai dish, which he promised to make for me sometime. I’d honestly not expected to go on a date afterwards, considering how picky I think I am, but here I was! The event made sense after all.