As and when I get into a relationship, I'll flaunt her to the

In the marketplaces of fame, where rumor is a hawker and curiosity never sleeps, a batsman speaks with a straight bat: “As and when I get into a relationship, I’ll flaunt her to the world. I’m looking for a soul mate, and in any case, I’m not very much for casual dating. I’m such a simple guy away from this dating-shating business.” Hear the stance beneath the smile. He draws a clean line between spectacle and sanctity: when love is real, it deserves daylight; until then, let the heart be a quiet workshop. In a culture that often treats intimacy as currency, he answers with an older grammar—reserve, reverence, and a promise of public honor only when the promise is true.

The origin of such a vow is the athlete’s crucible. Under lights bright enough to bleach shadows, every glance becomes a headline and every dinner a theory. A man who spends his evenings in stadium thunder learns the cost of noise; he learns, too, the mercy of silence. Thus he rejects the carousel of casual dating not with bitterness, but with purpose. He seeks the difficult gift—a soul mate—and he pledges, when that covenant arrives, not hush but heraldry: to flaunt not as boast, but as blessing, naming the beloved openly so gossip can no longer rent her name by the hour.

The phrase “dating-shating” is a wink that cuts two ways: it laughs at the flimsy theater of serial courtship and declares allegiance to something steadier. To call oneself a simple guy here is not to shrink; it is to simplify. Strip away the confetti, keep the vows. The heart becomes a single wicket well defended: value over velocity, truth over trend. Such simplicity is not naiveté; it is mastery—choosing a narrower road because it leads somewhere worthy.

An old story throws light on this. In Agra, a king once raised a marble hymn—the Taj—as if to flaunt love to the world. The gesture, for all its grandeur, rests on a basic human impulse the batsman shares: that love, when solemn and sealed, is not meant to be hidden. We need not imitate a palace to learn the lesson. A ring introduced to family, a name spoken without flinching, a partner honored in public spaces—these are little Taj Mahals, stones laid where the beloved’s dignity can safely rest.

A humbler parable from the village square also instructs. A young carpenter kept his courtships quiet, not from shame but from stewardship. When at last he chose, he brought her to the festival and said, simply, “This is the one I will carry tools with.” He did not parade conquests; he declared a covenant. From that day, idle whispers lost their appetite. The community did not speculate; it bore witness. This is the heart of flaunt as our speaker means it: not display for applause, but proclamation for protection.

There is a warning folded into the laughter. A life soaked in attention can mistake visibility for value and rotation for romance. By refusing casual dating, he is not judging those who wander; he is guarding the conditions in which his own heart can hear. Noise blurs discernment. Quiet sharpens it. The promise to wait—and then to honor publicly—keeps the soul from bargaining away permanence for the thrill of being seen.

Therefore, the teaching to hand down is plain and sturdy. Let affection grow in the shade until it is strong enough for sun; then give it the sun without stint. Seek a soul mate with the patience of a craftsman, not the haste of a collector. When you finally say “we,” say it so clearly that rumor has nothing left to sell. And keep your life ordered by first things: be a simple guy—or woman—whose loves are few, deep, and well-kept, immune to the churn of the dating-shating bazaar.

Practices for the road: (1) Keep your courtship calendar small and your conversations honest; rename casual dating as casual delay and choose intention instead. (2) When commitment is real, flaunt with purpose—introduce, include, and honor your partner in the circles that matter. (3) Guard your private rituals—shared meals, prayers, long walks—so that publicity never replaces presence. (4) Measure love by service given and peace gained, not by posts and photographs. In this way, your relationship will be both quiet enough to take root and brave enough, when the time comes, to stand tall in the open air.