12 Lessons Love Taught Me After 23

I've always believed in love. But growing up, I hesitated to pursue it.

Raised in a traditional Indian family, I was taught to prioritize success over sentiment. My father—strict, driven, and deeply principled—believed that tangible achievements mattered more than the complexities of romance or intimacy. In our household, and in much of our community, arranged marriages were the norm. My parents, like most of my aunts and uncles, didn't fall in love; they were introduced, matched, and married. It was practical. Expected. Efficient.

For those unfamiliar with Indian culture, arranged marriages aren't an anomaly—they're often the standard, especially in the circles I grew up in. From a young age, I absorbed the lesson that love wasn't something you chased; it was something that came after you proved your worth.

"Focus on your career," I was told, again and again. "Love will follow."

And I believed them.

As a child, I remember knowing I liked girls—I was maybe six—but I also knew, somehow, that I hadn't yet "earned" the right to pursue anyone. I convinced myself that love was a reward for success, not something I inherently deserved. So I studied. I competed. I built the version of myself that would make my family proud. But somewhere along the way, I began internalizing a damaging belief: that I had to achieve love, not simply experience it. I was young, determined, and ambitious, but I was also confused about what I really wanted.

By the time I turned 23, I realized I had spent most of my life building toward someone else's idea of fulfillment. I had checked the academic boxes and met the benchmarks that made me a "success" in Indian society. But emotionally? I felt hollow. Like I'd grown tall but never rooted.

I've always been a late bloomer—but in matters of the heart, I took that to the extreme. I spent years becoming someone others would approve of, without ever asking what I truly wanted. It wasn't that I didn't want love; it was that I'd convinced myself I didn't deserve it yet. Most people my age had already fallen in and out of love a few times. But here I was, just beginning to understand what I really wanted.

Before I could process any of it, it was time to move to San Diego in the fall of 2022. I was excited to start grad school and finally live a dream I'd worked hard for. A couple of months before leaving, I went on my first real date in Mumbai. I enjoyed getting to know her, but I quickly realized I wouldn't have the time or energy to maintain a long-distance relationship while adjusting to life in the States. I had to be honest with her and explain that I couldn't continue. It wasn't easy, but it felt like the right thing to do.

I fell in love in San Diego—and not just with someone, but with life itself. I spent the rest of the year focusing on myself and my goals. I loved being stressed under the sun. It was just me, my laptop by the ocean, and my dreams against the world. I was young, determined, and starting to figure out what I really wanted. I made great friends and soaked in the freedom that comes with living in a first-world country. That freedom unlocked a version of me the world definitely wasn't ready for.

2023–24 felt like the plot of a coming-of-age movie. I had no idea the whirlwind of emotional experiences that were coming my way.

I'll spare the details in this essay, but I went through enough to shift from someone who once believed arranged marriage was the path, to someone who quickly adapted to the rather individualistic, peace-preserving, radically self-loving world of Western dating. I went on dates with women I was genuinely attracted to and enjoyed being around. I got to know them. I figured out what I liked. I fell in love, had my heart broken, had a lot of fun, made a few mistakes, and did a lot of introspection. Through all of it, I began to realize the unique perspective I carried based on where I came from and what I'd experienced.

After the fall of 2024, I took a long break to reassess what I actually wanted and what truly felt right for me. Life got busier, especially career-wise, but that space gave me enough distance—and clarity—to sit down and write this. I realized I was young, determined, and ambitious, and had a great idea about who I was and what I really wanted.

I'm Niraj Yagnik, and in this essay, I want to share 12 things I've learned as an Indian man—raised in a traditional family—about dating in the Western world.

A couple of disclaimers before we begin:

My experiences are limited in both time and perspective. I'm a cisgender, straight man, and what I share here is personal—not a universal truth or a guide for everyone. These are living guidelines I've shaped for myself, especially for whenever I choose to reenter the dating world. Dating can feel like navigating a minefield. It demands self-awareness and emotional protection, but without shutting yourself off or becoming overly guarded. These aren't rules—they're reflections and lessons I've picked up through trial, error, and introspection. While my story is uniquely mine, I believe some of these thoughts may resonate with others, particularly those raised in similar cultural contexts or walking the same East-meets-West emotional tightrope.
This isn't a victim story. I love my life. I'm proud of my parents, my upbringing, and the values I was raised with. What follows is simply a reflection of what I've learned—through growth, discomfort, and some necessary self-honesty.

1. Fall in Love with Yourself

This one's the foundation. Self-love isn't a luxury—it's a non-negotiable. And it's hard. It's not a weekend workshop; it's a daily practice. Everything beautiful requires maintenance, and so do you.

I used to believe I had to earn love through achievement. But over time, I realized that everything I was looking for outside already existed inside me. Once I began seeing myself as whole—not waiting for someone else to complete me—the pressure lifted. Love became something I could invite in, not chase.

If you're looking for someone to fill a gap in your life, that space will never stay filled for long. But when you show up already feeling full, love becomes a gift, not a rescue plan.

Self-love is layered and deeply personal. While the full roadmap is outside the scope of this essay, what matters most is that you start by regularly asking yourself:
What do I want? Who am I when I'm not performing?
The more honest you are with those questions, the more rooted you become in your own worth.

2. Learn to Walk Away

Walking away is one of the hardest but most important things you can learn to do. Whether it's because someone is hurting you or because you simply don't see a future with them, leaving takes strength and self-respect.

I've stayed in situations longer than I should have, mostly out of fear. Fear of losing connection. Fear of being alone. Fear of starting over. But staying for the sake of comfort is its own kind of heartbreak.

Choosing to walk away doesn't mean you didn't care. It simply means you recognized that the situation wasn't right for you anymore, and you respected yourself enough to let go. Right person, wrong time. Wrong person, right time. All the permutations and combinations—we've all heard them, and honestly, they're valid. Sometimes things just don't work out. And yes, that sucks. But it's okay. What matters is learning to walk away, and if you can, walk away early. Don't wait for things to break you before you choose yourself.

Fear of walking away from someone who's hurting you is a different kind of struggle. It's often more complex and tied to self-esteem. You might start second-guessing your standards or thinking that maybe this is just how relationships are. But staying longer doesn't fix that - it usually just makes the pain deeper and the exit messier. In most cases, the short-term sting of leaving early is far better than the slow erosion that comes from staying in a situation that chips away at your confidence.

3. Ask the Universe for More

This is my gentle protest against situationships and the fear of defining relationships. If someone says they don't want labels or delays exclusivity, that's a red flag in disguise. You deserve clarity. You deserve full love—not love with conditions or asterisks.

I've fallen into this trap. I agreed to unclear boundaries, thinking I was being mature or chill. In reality, I was just afraid to ask for what I needed. These setups are often designed so that one person can walk away with little to no accountability. And you're left wondering if it was ever real.

The universe is not on a budget. Ask for more. You deserve it all.

4. Put No One on a Pedestal

Most hurt happens when a power imbalance is created—when one person is placed on a pedestal. I've been guilty of doing this. And it usually stems from insecurities.

If you're dating someone hot, cool, or impressive, guess what? So are they. You're not lucky to have them. They're lucky to have you, too.

The moment you start believing you're somehow "less than," you shift the balance. Start seeing yourself as someone worth admiring, too. If they leave, your shine doesn't leave with them.

5. Have a Support System You Can Trust

This might be one of the most underrated lessons. Always have a support system—people who are on your wavelength and truly get you. These are the ones you can lean on, share your dating journey with, and trust to keep you grounded when emotions run high.

I've been incredibly lucky to have that kind of support—both in San Diego and back home. They've listened to me vent for hours, celebrated with me when I was excited, and reminded me who I was when I started to lose myself.

They know you better than the person you went on three dates with. Listen to them. Trust their instincts alongside your own.

Friendship, in my opinion, is one of the most beautiful concepts humankind has to offer. Fall in love with your friends, you won't regret it.

6. Learn to Stand Your Ground and Be Yourself

We're all complex. Our behaviors, beliefs, and reactions are shaped by personal experiences—not just by what society expects.

Sometimes you'll be misunderstood. Your authenticity might be misread as a tactic. Your kindness might be seen as weakness. That's okay.

You don't have to respond to every critique. But you also don't have to shrink to make someone else comfortable. Hold your ground when it matters. Smile when you can. Walk away when you must.

Let them think what they want. You know who you are.

7. End Things Kindly

Yes, walk away when needed. But do it with care. People remember how you made them feel, especially in moments of pain.

If someone shared time, space, and emotional vulnerability with you, the least you can do is end things with honesty and kindness. Explain yourself. Offer closure. Even if it's uncomfortable.

There's a growing idea in dating literature that you don't owe people explanations. But I believe you do. Not because you're overly attached, but because being kind costs nothing and leaves a better emotional imprint. It's a way to respect both yourself and the time you shared.

8. Learn to Forgive and Forget

If you're looking for love, chances are you're going to get hurt along the way. That's part of the deal.

Allow yourself to feel the pain. But don't carry it longer than you need to. Forgiveness is not about saying what happened was okay. It's about choosing peace over resentment. It's about reclaiming your energy.

Some experiences take longer to heal and that's okay. Healing looks different for everyone. But at some point, you have to let go. Delete the photos. Unfollow them. Stop replaying the memories. Don't give someone permanent space in your mind if they're no longer in your life.

You are the main character of your own story. Make room for what's next.

9. Don't Go Out Looking for Love When You're Still Learning to Love Yourself

Sounds obvious, but we've all done it—gone out when we weren't ready. Take a moment to ask why you feel the need to date if you're still working on healing or learning to love yourself.

It's never a great idea to go on a date while still hurting from a past experience. Hurt people often end up hurting others, even without meaning to. You have the power to stop that cycle.

Also, avoid dating when you're deeply unsure about your professional future. If you don't feel good about what you do every day, that weight will show up in your relationships too. Give yourself space to sort that out first.

10. Don't Be Afraid to Hit the Streets Again

There's always a risk that things won't go as planned. But don't let that stop you.

Every new connection is a new chance. There are infinite possibilities for meaningful interactions, even on the most ordinary days.

Your past doesn't define your future. Don't let old wounds stop you from creating new experiences. Every time you try again, you grow. Every time you open up, you heal.

Don't be afraid to fall in love again and again.

11. Introspect Often

Dating is not just about learning others. It's a mirror for learning about yourself. Your triggers. Your patterns. Your hopes. Your fears.

Many of us externalize the blame when something doesn't work. But real progress begins when you look inward. When you ask, "What can I do better next time?" or "What part of me is reacting here?"

You don't have to be perfect. No one is. But if you take the time to reflect and grow, each dating experience becomes valuable—regardless of how it ends.

12. Radical Self-Love Is a Knife

There's a comfort in radical self-love. In becoming so peaceful and independent that no one can disrupt your calm. I've felt it. I've lived it.

But sometimes, peace becomes a bubble. You make fewer memories. You connect less. You hide under the comfort of solitude, not realizing it's slowly becoming a cage.

Self-love is important. But don't let it become a wall. You might be protecting yourself from others, but you could also be protecting others from you. Know when to open the door again. Know when to let someone in. Balance peace with presence.

Closing Reflection

In the end, dating has taught me more about myself than anyone else ever could. It's not just about finding the right person—it's about becoming the version of yourself who knows what love should feel like.

And when it comes again, I'll be ready.