How the language of desire has turned into social currency in a world of swipes

Bengaluru-based psychotherapist and sex therapist Divisha Singh points out that terms such as these are rooted in objectification. “They reduce a person to their desirability in a snapshot, rather than acknowledging their humanity or depth," she says. In an environment where dating apps and social media reward brevity, this shift is hardly surprising. Each swipe is a split second judgement on someone’s looks. Singh says we are engaging with people as consumables, rather than as multifaceted individuals.

Dr. Minnu Bhonsle, a relationship counsellor based in Mumbai, adds that modern dating has created a market economy of desire: “There’s a collective shift from seeing people as whole, emotional beings to assessing their market value in a visual economy." Yet this isn’t entirely new. As psychologist Pritha Saha Dutta from Mumbai notes, the tendency to objectify has always existed. What’s changed is the visibility and scale. “What used to be whispered in classrooms or behind closed doors is now performed publicly—through Instagram reels, dating bios or group chats. The platform has made the objectification more casual, constant and viral."

This language isn’t limited to the dating context either. It slips easily into everyday gossip, peer banter and online interactions. A friend showing someone’s profile may casually announce, “He’s bangable," reducing attraction to a quick visual score. In a culture increasingly shaped by ethical non-monogamy, open relationships and digitally-mediated desire, compliments are no longer just compliments. They are currency and a signal of some one’s value in a dating economy.

Saha Dutta calls this language “social currency," especially among teens and young adults. “It’s not just slang any more," she says. “It’s performative. You ask about body count or use explicit short hand to initiate a conversation, not because it reflects depth, but because that’s what the ecosystem has normalised." This normalisation of performance over presence has led to a detachment in how we relate to one another. “Compliments become checkboxes. Language becomes utility. The art of praise has been replaced by a swipe and a fire emoji," Bhonsle explains.

Singh links this directly to the commodification of sex. “When sex is presented primarily as a transaction—a swipe, a click, a scene—the language flattens too," she says. “We stop saying things like ‘you move me’ or ‘you’re beautiful’ and default to ‘they’re hot.’"

DESIRE WITHOUT DEPTH

Words are how we name what we feel. When the words get narrower, so do our emotional experiences. “Language is the bridge between internal emotion and external connection," Singh explains. “If the vocabulary for desire is built around consumption rather than connection, then intimacy becomes elusive."

Rhea Dutta, a 33-year-old queer woman in an ethically non-monogamous relationship, shares how language shaped her emotional reality. “There was one partner who always called me ‘hot.’ At first, it felt good. But after a while, it felt like he wasn’t seeing me at all. Just my body. No one ever said I was beautiful or kind. I started feeling like a product." In contrast, another partner told her that her laugh felt like jazz. “He said I made time slow down. That he wanted to understand how my mind worked. It wasn’t just sexy. It was soulful," she says. That shift in language allowed for deeper emotional safety and presence.

Saha Dutta affirms this, noting that desire is deeply personal. “Some people want softness and respect in bed. Others enjoy playful or dirty talk. Some want both. What matters is intention. The words we use should reflect connection, not performance."

The way we are spoken to shapes how we see ourselves. Singh explains that hearing only surface-level compliments can create long-term emotional dissonance. “Being called ‘hot’ may boost the ego temporarily, but without language that reflects our inner traits such as our humour, grace, presence, we may begin to feel valued only for our appearance." This kind of one-dimensional validation leads to what Bhonsle describes as emotional invisibility. “You feel wanted, but not known. Desired, but not cherished." Bhonsle adds, “Language is the scaffolding of romance and emotional intimacy. If we cannot describe what moves us, we struggle to even know it fully."

This thinning of language hits especially hard for younger people raised in digital-first environments. “They may long for connection but not recognise it within themselves, and not know how to express it," Bhonsle explains. She describes it as a kind of “emotional malnourishment." It can also impact how relationships unfold. Saha Dutta sees this often in her practice. “Many with low self-worth get stuck in cycles of validation seeking. They confuse sex for love. That creates a push pull dynamic, what we call the anxious-avoidant loop. You crave closeness, but fear rejection. You chase, then you with draw. It’s exhausting, but also deeply familiar."

BEYOND PICK-UP LINES

If the language of desire has grown shallow, can it deepen again? The experts say yes, but not through a list of new compliments. The answer lies in presence, intention and reflection.

“Ask yourself: Am I chasing connection or distraction? Are my words performative or sincere?" says Saha Dutta. This kind of inner inquiry, she believes, is key to aligning our language with our emotional truth. Language, after all, is not static. It evolves. Today, “darling" may have turned into “bae", and “falling for you" into “catching feelings". But its core function remains: to make us feel seen. “If we want to feel loved in full colour," Singh says, “we need language that reflects more than just the physical."

The goal isn’t to return to some poetic ideal. It’s to reclaim language that feels real and words that name not just what we want from others, but what we see in them. Because how we speak about desire shapes how we experience love. And in a world saturated with images, that may be the most intimate act of all.

Divya Naik is an independent writer based in Mumbai.