Sunday mid-day tried the new Rent- a-Boyfriend service, to find out what a man can give women who have everything and can do anything
Illustration/Uday Mohite
This reporter is the kind of person to order the blue-coloured, chilli ice-cream. When the Intimacy Curator announced that they were training men to be boyfriends you could rent, of course, we wanted one, please. The news that men are being trained to be boyfriends was more exciting than the fact one could rent them.
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In our social milieu, women are coached to be partners before they can walk; and men of my generation X may learn it after a harsh demise of a marriage. That they could be learning what women look for now, emotionally and intellectually, filled me with perverse delight.
A bit about me: Myself, 44, single, CISHet woman with low tolerance for human beings. Online dating apps do not hold appeal because writing for a living makes writing to lure a chore. Plus, I have discovered the biggest secret the world keeps from women: A life with yourself (and an animal or three) is a deep reserve of contentment and peace. My primary relationship is with my friends who look after my emotional wellbeing with the regularity of the neighbourhood andawallah. My talents and labour—emotional, domestic, financial, and physical—are only up for exchange with someone who can enhance the rich, fulfilling life I have painstakingly built. Any man will have to match the care and wealth of my primary relationship with my friend Mukta Raut, who is most interested in my internal landscape. If you sniggered at this, you are exactly the kind of manchild that women glue their knees together at.
Rahul, let’s call him, comes with a rate card: R4,000 for an online date of one hour; Rs 15,000 for two hours of platonic cuddling; every additional hour is available at Rs 10,000. A dating surrogacy experience—which could be useful to get back into the game after termination of a longstanding or traumatic relationship—comes for Rs 80,000 and covers 12 dates over three months.
A cognitive undertow: Women are coached to be partners to brothers, fathers, and future husbands early on. It becomes instinctive to listen without hijacking a conversation; to know what our friends are not saying when they are saying a lot, and nothing at all. Acts of love and service come naturally: To make extra thaleepith for your neighbour. To compliment a colleague. To buy a masala-ed ripe peru for a friend when you see it, because s/he likes them. How easily we could monetise these skills.
But imagine being a girlfriend-to-rent. How unsafe, how disreputable.
I book an offline date: It’s Rs 5,000 for two hours; Rs 3,000 per hour .after that. I will be paying the bill, though my date offers to go Dutch. We decide to meet in Bandra West to match my work in Bandra East. This is dating in our metropolis: We change railway lines only for true love. And to progress into a serious relationship, my suitor must be willing to venture into my native Navi Mumbai, and give in to the charms of long walks in the mangroves to see my favourite tree.
There’s an intensive form to fill beforehand through which I can customise whether my Rahul will wear formals or casuals, athletic chic, or smart casuals, down to the colours, facial hair details, and of course, the recreational activities we will undertake.
I think the date is for 8 pm; at 6:45 pm, actor-model-entrepreneur Akshay Jha tells me he has arrived at Bandstand, where we are to meet at 7 pm. I apologise for my tardiness, and he sweetly replies, “It’s okay, I enjoy waiting.”
I have just paid a man to be excited and interested in me, to put it plainly. And I would have appreciated verbal foreplay during the day to ease the awkwardness of meeting a complete stranger. I would have liked a reminder, as all my girlfriends give, earlier in the day. Some form of, ‘Bandstand, na? 7 pm?’ It would indicate he was excited to meet me; I’m cute, through crude.
Akshay is a nice balance of lighthearted conversationalist, and minutely observant without being intense or seeming forced. We hug upon meeting, and his palm lingers a blink longer on my waist, distinguishing, in my mind, an embrace from the warm, asexual greeting between friends.
We go to Mount Mary, the walking easing my social awkwardness. Twenty-three years of being the one asking questions has left me feeling exposed when I am the subject of interest. And Akshay’s conversation skills are exemplary. He starts by talking about his college days, leaving gaps for me to add to the conversation.
And while he asks plain, safe questions, he asks them differently: So what did you dream of when you were in school? Who were your idols? We talk about me growing up on a tiny, unglamorous island in the Arabian Gulf; unremarkable until Michael Jackson moved there, followed by F1. He shares charming stories about growing up in Nairobi, without lowkey bragging. “I [as a nine-year-old] thought the only countries worth going to were Abroad, Vilayat or Videsh. Yeh Africa kya hota hai?” He asks me about my goals for the year, and cheers me on when I say, ‘Make more money’. There are no compliments about my looks, nor consolatory, knee-jerk responses like, ‘But you don’t look it’ when I mention my age (44 years). What I am most grateful for is that there is no talk about how expensive his car or phone is; or the size of his holiday/city home.
Instead, he slips in an authentic one that catches me off guard. We talk about how much time in nature helps angry dogs modulate their behaviour, and how Cinderella was my favourite Disney princess because of her power to speak to animals and have all those various non-human friends. “Were you always this kind?” he asks lightly. I’m surprised at being, and feeling seen; not a feeling men evoke easily in me.
And quickly, we turn to the menu at the Taj Mahal Tea House and delightfully agree to order the most outrageous things on it: A kulfi choux, a frothy Kashmiri saffron chai, and a Matcha rose chai. “This is going to be awful,” I mock. “No, it’s going to be amazing,” he says.
He has picked two places for us and made reservations, a foresight I appreciate. As we walk about, he casually asks whether I am a tea or coffee person, and says he has a reservation at the Tea House. I am grateful for not being steered to a Starbucks or Third Wave; and certainly no clean-eating, sourdough bread haven where our date would be street theatre. I am guilty of observing couples in all these places for entertainment, and do not wish for the tables to be turned. “We have a reservation,” he tells the steward as we walk in, and then whispers to me, “doesn’t it feel nice to say that?” Yes, yes, it does.
We laugh, we talk on a plethora of subjects: What role can we play to mitigate communal intolerance; What is our purpose; How he puts his ex’s name and number on feedback forms in restaurants; how she knows he does this and all he says is, “I was missing you.” I realise I had held my breath for a sob story about his ex, but instead he speaks of her playfully, and positively.
Self-pity is extremely una ttractive; Akshay makes me think about what I want to know: How have you alchemised life’s trials and tribulations? How do you season daily life with mirth and purpose? Who are the loves of your life? How do you love? Not what car you drive, but how many dogs leap into it happily. How many little people consider you an ally? Where is your favourite tree? What will be your legacy? What part of you are you working on? How comfortable are you with discomfort? What are your relationships: Do you have a mentor? Are you one? Are you the safety net for a friend’s home loan? Listed as her/his emergency contact? The one s/he shares the ride details with on Uber? Can you run a home? Is it a safe space for others? Do you insist on beauty in the little things? Does work excite you? Are people happy to see you?
I know this seems a tall order. I told you single living has spoilt me; I have all of this. Why would I settle for less? Why would I settle at all?
Akshay, lightly, ticks many of these boxes. He is not my physical type, and there is no fear of attraction. And crucially, maybe intentionally, he does not seem attracted to me. There is no flirting. Before I see him off, he hands me a bamboo plant in ceramic pot. “I got you a present,” he says, “It doesn’t need too much care; not that I am assuming you don’t have what it takes.”
We say good bye. That’s the last I hear from him. My girlfriends have spoilt me: I have to text them when I reach home. My friend G, well aware of how much I hate the phone, categorically tells me she will not sleep until I let her know I am home. All of us, like my friend Barkha Menghani with whom three-hour breakfasts are booked once a month, text each other after we meet saying what a good time we had. It takes the form of: “I’m sorry I ate most of your sandwich”; or “Next time, we try the other café”, but it’s to let each other know we enjoy you.
It’s our common complaint that men don’t text after.
Men will gain more through this enterprise of being trained to be good company. Consider that it now falls upon them to educate, train, and adapt themselves to bring equal skills to the table to care for their families, forge partnerships, build an aspirational lifestyle, raise children or pets and be co-pilots through life.
Here are front row seats to know what women really want right now; and wise Rahuls should take notes, and read and re-read them.
Key rules of engagement when renting
. No physical touch. Hand holding can be requested but the professional has the right to refuse
. A romantic ‘mood’ and emotional connect can only be created for the duration of the session
. Communication only via email—no exchange of phone numbers nor social media profiles
. Boyfriend will be sober; do not offer intoxicants
. The professional reserves the right to refuse service and will decline any action at their discretion
. Ensure adequate hygiene including teeth brushed prior to appointment, all clothing freshly laundered, and both parties freshly showered
. If either party feels unsafe or uncomfortable, the session may be stopped
. The Intimacy Curator (TIC) cannot be held liable for any incidents.
. The client assumes responsibility for their safety and well-being
What women want [from rahuls]
The Intimacy Curator let us speak—through the veil of technology—to women who have engaged their services in various cities. Here are
the stories:
Therapist, 45, Divorced, Bhopal
I was looking for safety and courage. I grew up in a very conservative household where even talking to boys my age was prohibited. My marriage was abusive, and post divorce, I was afraid to interact with men in person. It was given that men just wanted sex, and due to trauma, I wasn’t ready for physical intimacy.
I just wanted to talk with a man who wasn’t from my social circles; to have someone look at me with kindness, and have a casual conversation where it wouldn’t be dirty or bad to talk to the opposite gender. Where I would be able to talk about myself. To have a man treat me well without ulterior motives. Where I felt in control of my experience.
I booked an online date, and he was actually interested in what I like, and had an emotional quotient that matched his intelligence. It was like an Active Listening Therapy session. I would book a date again whenever I feel I need to be reminded that I deserve to be happy and treated with respect, and when I want to explore myself in a safe setting.
Financial Analyst, 30, Single, Mumbai
I needed a reboot after a bunch of dates left me feeling like I needed a personal cheerleader. Men either come with baggage of their exes and keep on crying about how stressful they were, or they come on a date with sex on their mind. I’m not averse to sex but that can’t be the only thing to exchange. I wanted an afternoon with someone who makes me feel special. Who could spot all the good things in me.
The experience made me feel that there is hope, but will we get nice experiences only when we pay? Do we need to pay to feel safe?
Advertising Professional, 33, Single, Mumbai
I HAD always dreamt of paying for a male escort. Men do it all the time, why can’t we? I wanted to invite him home, but that was against the rules, so I called him my best friend’s home, where a couple of other friends were present. Initially, I thought this was a cover up service for gigolos, so we planned to make him strip and all. Poor fellow kindly told us that this is not that type of service, but he would be happy to go out with us and dance with his clothes on! We spent an hour at home laughing, and headed to a bar. After a couple of hours, he left because my friends and I were high. We started feeling a little ashamed for objectifying him and treating him like a toy. All my friends liked him, and he really tried to entertain us.
I have wanted to approach escorts before, but didn’t get a safe vibe; all of them were creepy.
Writer, 43, Divorced, Mumbai
I just wanted a good time without the commitment drama. I’d just had a divorce, and wanted to feel free to romance because I felt rusty. I’d been a bit insecure about my looks and dating again; It’s not like I’m getting any younger. And I can’t trust men on dating apps; they’ve lost [the art of] romance. Also I needed
writing inspiration.
I told him what I liked, but didn’t want to make the choices. He picked me up in a Mercedes! That I didn’t ask for; it just happened to be his car. After dinner, he took me for a drive along Marine Drive. I felt golden. It was exactly what I needed–carefree vibes, a good laugh, romance on the roll and
zero stress.
Fashion designer, 28, Partnered
I needed a plus one to a friend’s wedding. My boyfriend and I are in a long-distance relationship, and I’m not even sure where it’s going. People keep asking me what I am doing in it; and I didn’t want to look desperate and lost. My date and I, danced the night away, and shared some hilarious moments. To ensure he wore something good, I rented his clothes. It was like having a secret life that suddenly everybody saw. He kept all the people asking stupid personal questions far away. I felt very cheeky, but he created a carefree and entertaining atmosphere.
It felt like attending the event with a friend who knew how to turn any moment into a good time. It fulfilled my desire for a fun and mysterious
companion. The best part—my boyfriend saw my Stories and got upset!
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