In the grand tapestry of human relationships, we’ve evolved from cave paintings to cryptic emojis, from love letters sealed with wax to disappearing messages on Snapchat. Yet, nothing has prepared us millennials for the labyrinthine lexicon of Gen Z dating. It’s as if Cupid traded his bow and arrow for a smartphone and a proclivity for ambiguity.

Take breadcrumbing , for instance. In our carb-loving days, breadcrumbs led to deep-fried chicken cutlets, not ghosting. Breadcrumbing, dear fellow millennials, is not the charming Hansel-and-Gretel trail of carbs we once knew. No, it’s the act of dropping vague flirtatious crumbs to keep you emotionally malnourished but still interested. Hooked but not cooked. Think of it as the Diet Coke of modern romance: all fizz, no substance, but equally lethal.

As a millennial woman who once thought relationships were defined by “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” scribbled on a napkin, with only YES/NO routes, I am baffled by Gen Z’s romantic lexicon. Back in my day — yes, I’ve become the auntie who says “Back in my day” leave me alone — dating had structure. Sure, it was messy, but at least we knew the terms of engagement. Now? It’s like being tossed into a group project where nobody knows their role, but everyone wants credit.

Take situationships , for example. If you’ve been wondering what that means, allow me to enlighten you. Back in simpler times, we had “friends,” “boyfriends,” and “people we avoid at reunions.” A situationship is when two people like each other enough to text incessantly, binge-watch shows together, and maybe even cuddle — but not enough to, you know, define anything. It’s basically commitment phobia wrapped in vibes and anxiety.

“Why ruin it with labels?” they say, as if labels were the relationship equivalent of polyester. Spoiler alert: labels are important. Without labels, everything falls apart. Imagine a world where ketchup and toothpaste come in the same unmarked tube. Exactly. Absolute chaos.

Then there are friends with benefits . Now, this one’s been around since the Neanderthal days, but Gen Z has repackaged it with a sprinkle of Instagram gloss. It’s all about casual fun, no strings attached, and — this is crucial — emotional detachment. Except it’s never really detached, is it?

One person always catches feelings, and suddenly, you’re knee-deep in awkward brunches where one half is dying inside while the other is dissecting the latest Marvel film. Friends with benefits? More like friends with beneficial therapy bills.

Speaking of emotional detachment, let’s talk about no strings attached relationships. This is where two people mutually agree to avoid commitment. You’d think this would simplify things, right? Wrong. It’s essentially a ticking time bomb where one party inevitably starts overanalysing text messages like it’s a GCSE literature exam.

“What did he mean by ‘K lol’ ?”

Answer: Nothing. He’s emotionally unavailable and probably playing FIFA. Move on. Have a sandwich.

Now, let’s not forget being exclusive . This used to be the warm-up lap before officially dating. Today, it’s the Olympics of modern romance. If someone says, “We’re exclusive,” it doesn’t mean you’re in a relationship — it means you’re both deleting Bumble, but keeping Instagram DM requests open for emergencies. Hedging. Exclusive is like renting a flat: it’s temporary, has no long-term security, and you can be kicked out at any moment.

And finally, we come to ghosting , the greatest invention of this century. A convenient way to avoid conflict, ghosting is when someone disappears from your life faster than my willpower in front of biryani. In a way, it’s almost poetic — like the romance version of Avengers: Infinity War. One moment they’re there, the next: snap . Gone.

So, what’s a millennial to do in this dizzying landscape? How do we keep up with Gen Z, who somehow make everything — dating, skincare, plant care — seem so effortless? Well, my advice is simple: don’t try. Instead, channel your inner granny. When someone says, “I’m in a situationship,” nod wisely and reply, “ Baba, dui nouka ay paa diye karo bhalo hoi na .”

Navigating this new world requires a dictionary and a therapist. But fear not fellow millennials. When faced with the perplexities of Gen Z dating, remember when someone offers breadcrumbs, ask for the whole loaf. Life’s too short for crumbs. Or you’re not into it then simply respond with, “Sorry, I’m keto.” Cause, you know, fitness is the ultimate passion.

By Noshin Nawal

Illustration: LS Desk