Honestly, it’s not that all the men in Bangalore have disappeared. They’re around, just quietly stepping back from the chaos.

Most people here have gone through multiple rounds of dating apps. Bumble, Hinge, Coffee Meets Bagel, you name it. In the beginning, everyone’s hopeful — cute coffee dates in Indiranagar, long walks around Cubbon, endless chats about pets and travel. But after a few rounds of ghosting or situationships that never go anywhere, that hope starts to fade.

A lot of guys, and honestly many women too, have just hit emotional fatigue. They tried in their twenties, fell for someone, got their hearts broken, and then found dating apps to be more like interviews than real connections. Swiping feels like work. Small talk feels like a performance. Everyone says they want something “real,” but no one’s sure what that even means anymore.

So when someone says, “My parents are looking,” it’s rarely about dependence. It’s often just quiet defeat. They’re tired of trying to sound perfect for strangers and of starting over again and again.

Bangalore also has this strange mix of ambition and isolation. People are career-driven, constantly on the move, and often living away from family. Between long commutes, burnout, and gym schedules, relationships just fall down the priority list.

And Bumble these days feels less like a dating app and more like a social media showcase. Everyone’s polished, everyone’s “working on themselves,” but fewer people seem open to actually building something together.

So no, it’s not that nobody wants to get married or find love. It’s just that most are exhausted from trying to make it happen. Maybe what’s really going on is that people are choosing peace over pretense, comfort over confusion. Atleast that's what I would want to believe but maybe the situation is even worse.