In March of 2020, I was two months out of college, somewhat newly single, and had just moved to NYC for my first job.
And ten days later, I was back in my parents' home.
My bed became my work desk, my colleagues became Zoom boxes, my lunch breaks became chats with my mom in our kitchen. This wasn't the young adulthood I'd signed up for.
I'd downloaded Hinge on the day I moved to the city, telling myself it was time to put myself back out there. As Covid locked us all into our homes, these hypothetical men telling me they wanted to take me for drinks suddenly became even more hypothetical. Or, rather, impossible.
Choice overload in a situation with only unattainable choices is depressing and bizarre. Going on Hinge daily simultaneously became my form of refuge from isolation and a bitter reminder of a life I couldn't have.
Somehow, against the odds, I ended up connecting with one sweet guy who had also gone home to be in NJ during the pandemic. We talked every day. We swapped playlists, watched TV shows together, and texted in the middle of the night. After four months of this, I felt like I had a deeply close friend.
Then he asked to meet me.
I was hesitant.
If the chemistry wasn't there, I would lose my one little sparkle of connection that had really helped sustain me over those few months. I would have to go back to the Hinge drawing board or accept that the only two people I would be socializing with were my parents.
I ended up going. Because the longer I put it off, the worse the let down would be if it wasn't a fit.
I think I had so many initial doubts because I was scared there might not be a romantic connection.
And I was right.
We met for a lovely walk in a park. We spent a few hours together, laughing and telling stories. He asked to see me again. I dodged the statement. And when I drove home alone, I cried the whole way back, mourning my little life boat that I watched bob away into the current.
I told myself I couldn't go through this again. I couldn't go through months of socially-distant connecting only to find out that the in-person chemistry just wasn't there. I resolved to delete Hinge. It just wasn't the right time.
And, I kid you not, as I took one last look at my likes before deleting the app, I met my life-changing boyfriend.
As Valentine's Day approaches, I've found myself reflecting on how the pandemic has shaped the core of my relationship.
Here's what I've learned about how pandemic dating made for a uniquely strong partnership.
The Talking Phase Can Foster Deep Emotional Connection
Taking time to minimize distractions and really get to know a person, even if it's through writing and before you've met in person, is a stellar start to a solid foundation. You learn values, goals, fears, dating history, lifestyle, sense of humor, and their ability to express their feelings.
For me, I quickly learned my boyfriend was hilarious, intelligent, close with his family, ambitious, supportive, compassionate, and had excellent taste in shows and music, all without ever having met him.
While this won't always lead to romantic connection, it helps eliminate people who definitely won't be the right fit.
I'd also recommend a FaceTime date early on. I knew from the first time I FaceTimed my boyfriend that we had chemistry.
Are they Worth the Covid Risk?
This was a great way for me to gauge how much I liked someone -- were they worth the Covid risk? While pre-pandemic, I'd be far more likely to meet someone after talking to them for only a few days, Covid altered my perception of an appropriate timeline to meet up. Were they Covid-risk-worthy? This became my ultimate litmus test.
While it is possible some people may surprise you in person (after all, the way a person animates is often a major cause of attraction more so than a photograph), having a risk factor play into dating helped me be more mindful and intentional about my choices. Plus, my gut has almost always known which dates were going to go well and which weren't. My Covid rule allowed me to simply not go on the dates that likely wouldn't have gone well. I got to avoid countless failed encounters and the numbness that can come from serial dating. Instead, I threw a line in the water, sat back in solitude, and waited for someone good to bite.
The Benefits of Subverting the Traditional Timeline
I met my boyfriend's family months before I met any of his friends. This was because he was also living in his parents' house during the pandemic. People often put a lot of weight on how soon is too soon to introduce a partner to family, but this ended up being such a beautiful part of our relationship. It also gave me a very important and real look into what my potential future in-laws were like. I got to have ice cream and popcorn parties with my boyfriend's mom, watch the Super Bowl with his dad, and chat about the Bachelor with his sisters. I felt like I grew a second family in only about five or six months of dating, which never would've happened if life had been normal.
Relatedly, I also introduced my boyfriend to my dying grandfather after only having been together for four months. Again, we were juggling so many challenges -- a new relationship, Covid precautions, and honoring the wishes of my terminally-ill beloved grandfather who asked to meet the guy I'd been seeing. They ended up having a laughter-filled, incredible night together, a night I'd been nervous would be too intense for a man who had met my parents only once before. My grandfather died soon after. This was one of the best decisions I ever made.
Being Vulnerable Early
We were in a pandemic and one of my favorite family members was dying. I needed some serious support from the beginning (and I even warned my boyfriend that he should opt out now if he wasn't ready to be a partner to me during a huge loss). He saw me cry pretty early on in the relationship. I opened up about the hard days I was having, and he'd call me to coax me through them. Dating during such a terrifying and highly emotional time showed me how important it is to be real with your partner as soon as you start dating them. There's no benefit to keeping anything veiled. The right person will be ready for it all even in month one or two.
Boring Dates!
Pandemic dating meant no restaurants, no bars, no concerts, no movies, no museums. It meant sitting in a park together. It meant watching shows in my parents' basement. It meant long car rides where we'd talk about our lives. Pandemic dating forces you to grapple with some gritty quality time. When you remove the bells and whistles of a fun date, you get to see just how much you enjoy the actual person. I would look forward to doing absolutely nothing with my boyfriend. That's the kind of partner I wanted. It's much harder to go from an exciting, adventure-filled date to a quiet home-cooked dinner and realize there isn't enough to talk about. Starting with the boring stuff is the fastest way to test if the connection is really there.
If You Love Them in a Pandemic...
I say this to my boyfriend all the time. We've had a relatively easy 19 months together. If we can do it in a pandemic, imagine how easy it will be when the world is normal again. This is also why more Survivor couples stay together than Bachelor couples. It's better to go from Hell to paradise than the other way around.
***
This has been a trauma-filled couple of years. Reconciling that with having met the love of my life is strange. It has also shown me how times of hardship can be open doors for stronger, more authentic, more long-lasting relationships. My last serious relationship was perfect until it immediately buckled under the weight of the first stone. We can only ever live and learn. And maybe finding love in a pandemic -- as hard as it may be -- is a raw, unglamorous look into what we should really be searching for when the world goes back to normal.
