Tag:referrals

Ah, finally. The world has discovered what Asian families have known for centuries: if you want something done properly, call an auntie. So Singapore has decided to export us. Not durians. Not hawker centres. Not fintech. Aunties. And honestly? About time. For years, I’ve watched bright, overeducated, emotionally constipated adults outsource their love lives to algorithms designed by 26-year-old men who think “compatibility” means you both like tacos. Swipe left. Swipe right. Swipe until your thumb develops carpal tunnel and your heart develops cynicism. Romance reduced to metadata. And now?...

Oh darling, of course we’ve reached the point where your ex writes your dating reference letter. In a country where neitui — internal job referrals — can fast-track your career, why shouldn’t it also fast-track your love life? If HR can vet your résumé, surely your former girlfriend can vet your emotional stability. Efficient. Transparent. Very modern. Very… corporate. But let Auntie ask: when did romance become a performance appraisal? I understand the impulse. Dating apps are a jungle. Married men posing as single. Single men posing as billionaires. Billionaires...

Every February, just around Valentine’s Day, the same little miracle happens across Asia: suddenly thousands of men discover that love apparently requires overnight industrial-grade performance. And into that panic march the “herbal kings,” the “VIP chocolates,” the mysterious honey sachets promising stamina of a mythological water buffalo. My darlings, if masculinity could be solved by a candy bar, patriarchy would have collapsed by now. Let me say this gently but clearly: erectile dysfunction is a medical issue, not a moral failure. Bodies age. Stress happens. Blood pressure rises. Diabetes is...

Let me tell you something, my darlings: in this country we can organize a three-day wedding with elephants, drones, synchronized cousins and a choreographed sangeet, but we still struggle to say one simple sentence at the dinner table — “I see you.” That Ipsos survey saying Indians rank low on feeling loved by their partners? I’m not shocked. Not even a little. We are experts in shaadi (marriage), champions of samaj (society), lifelong servants of zimmedari (responsibility). But emotional fluency? Ah. That one we are still learning. Don’t misunderstand me....

Ah, reverse travel. Finally, a Lunar New Year plot twist I can get behind. For decades, the emotional blackmail of chunyun went like this: if you truly loved your parents, you would crawl across three provinces on a sold-out train, wedged between instant noodle fumes and someone’s restless toddler, just to appear at the ancestral dining table in time for nianyefan. Romance? Optional. Career? Negotiable. But reunion dinner? Non-negotiable. And now? The children say, “Mama, Baba — you come here.” I love it. Not because tradition should be thrown into...