What We Like, Who We Are

We've somehow internalised that our personalities are just extensions of the things we like — and that these things are essential to who we are.

"Let's make sure we're on the same page about..."

"Green flags I look out for..."

"We will get along if..."

Who are you? There are many times in one’s life that one is confronted with this question. One such instance is, when you sign up on a dating app. And at least on one app that I know of, manifestations of this existential question comes in the form of these prompts. Compulsorily required. (If you’re reading this as someone who doesn’t need to navigate the world of dating apps, congratulations, seriously. Don’t worry, the arguments made in this newsletter don’t need dating app know-how.)

There are many ways to answer this specific question of self-definition. But for most people I saw on this particular dating app, it boiled down to another question — what do you like? So, they wanted to be on the same page about The Office being a great show, defined green flags as loving travel, and argued that they would only get along with people if they like the same music.

Look, I get the purpose of dating apps. It is to literally present the best, the most attractive version of yourselves, and pray that the algorithm gods find your One True Love. (Or, whatever it is that you’re looking for.) But what stood out for me after swiping through many, (many) profiles was how, somehow, we have internalised that our personalities are nothing more than extensions of the things we like, and the things we do. And that these things — likes, dislikes, hobbies, allergies, preferences — are so essential to our personalities, to our lives, that we would put them front-and-center when judging compatibility.

So, if you like dogs, how can you date someone who…doesn’t?

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The word "personality” stems from the Latin word “persona” which refers to the mask that actors wear in a theatre. A fact that anyone who spends way too much time on Twitter or Instagram would have told you without the quick etymology check. Personalities — and they are often in the plural — are what we don in front of others. Friends get different ones, work gets different ones, and surely I assume, dating apps get different ones. We hope that in the rotating roster of these personalities what remains is some core aspects of who we are. Brave, or fearful. Impulsive, or cautious. Patient, or the kind of impatient who thrives on instant solutions. Funny, or melancholy. But since when did liking or disliking a TV show, for example, become substitutes of these adjectives?

This kind of condensation of your interests to your personality — to the texture of the mask you don, to the first line you say when you introduce yourself — has always existed in some form or the other. What else were posters on the wall, if you really think about it, right? But the universalisation of this phenomenon can be traced back, in my opinion, to that one things everyone attributes everything to — the coming of social media. Back in the early days of the Internet, your Orkut profile was a marker of the kind of person you are. And of course, you had to be “cool.” As one of the decidedly uncool folks, I remember feeling an aspiration to listen to the kind of music everyone I know was listening to, to watch the same films, to fit in. Because, of course, how else could I answer the question — who are you?

Now, the ubiquitous bio is where we define ourselves. Through our professions, through roles we believe to be important in our life (husband, father, traveller, music lover, bibliophile…) and of course, through pop culture references we hope will mark us out as different.

So, who we are is — whoever you want me to be.

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As I have written in the past, I’ve recently moved to a new city. My flatmate and I are like completely different things. So our mornings are defined by tea for me, and coffee for her — while Beyonce and Begum Akhtar play loudly in the kitchen. (It works, somehow.) Luckily, for both of us, we were friends before we decided to share a home. Which meant that we knew that on the Big Important Things, we were always on the same page — and we decided to enjoy the minor differences.

The thing about personalities — whether it is one you’re shedding, one you’re seeing evolve, or one you’re seeing multiply — is that the end goal of who we are is to find someone to be who we are with. You spend hours over those dating app prompts so you can find someone. You change up your bio because you know it can be a bat-signal to get you the community you want. You try and find someone who gets your love for dogs because you hope that you will be able to transfer that love on to your relationships.

So, ultimately, I guess it’s okay that we define who we are, by the things we do, and the things we like. Because it does help us answer who we want to be around. What we might need to be careful of is just one thing.

To not let the anchors of our personality — what we read, what we do, what we love, what we watch — prevent us from reaching out to someone we think we’ll get along with.

After all, kindred souls don’t have a Twitter bio, no? And thank God, for that.

SOME NEWS: Longtime readers would know that I’ve been thinking about making this newsletter a paid one. I am still on the fence about that, but I have found an alternative. If you liked what you read — or have ever liked what you read! — you can now buy me a coffee. I don’t drink coffee (hah), so you can buy me a book-equivalent. If you choose to do so, thank you!

Otherwise, I’d be equally happy if you tell a friend (or two) about this newsletter, and share it along.

No links of the week, because I really have been reading nothing. If you have a link you would love to share, or would just like to share “hi”, please reply to this email. As always, I would love to hear from you.

I hope you, and yours are keeping well. I will write again soon.

Love,
Maanvi