on dating in a pandemic
i have been in quarantine for over six months.
mentally, emotionally, physically, socially- i’ve been keeping a strong distance from strangers for over half a year now.
the pandemic has seeped into almost every mundane action in my life and bled into many of my thoughts throughout the day. it’s changed where i go in the world, it’s changed what i can do in the world- it’s changed me.
my social interactions have been restricted to familiar people in my proximity, and an abundance of scheduled and wonderfully indulgent zoom/facetime/whatsapp calls.
much as i have missed the sharing of casual conversation, at a predetermined and public physical location, with a person I’ve not yet met, because of the pandemic, this concept of “going on a date” has become incredibly foreign to me.
but i did it anyway.
and it was lovely, but also weird.
all the dating experience and date-related knowledge that i had amassed from before the pandemic, is almost all completely useless to me now. i find myself feeling vulnerable and unsure of what to expect, much like i did all those years ago on my first ever “date”.
the pandemic has complicated every aspect of life as we have come to know it- and dating is no exception.
to start, the question of where to meet your date is more of an obstacle than it has likely ever been. if you live in an area where most public establishments have been temporarily shut down, the stereotypical date venues- a bar with flattering lighting, or a trendy restaurant- are no longer available to you. you are required to think outside of the box, to get creative, to get a little weird. you find yourself sitting at a table outside an abandoned restaurant, or in the middle of a park with no running water or air conditioning and thinking, “this looks like an ideal spot!”.
then comes the reality that when sitting at a reasonable distance from another person, it can be really hard to create an environment that feels intimate and electric. going on a date in a pandemic can feel incredibly platonic in that sense because all the little physical cues you would use to communicate interest or affection are now unavailable to you. gone is the subtle overlap of the fingers when passing a napkin over dinner, gone too is the playful and light touch of the shoulder.
in a context where physical contact- even as little as a handshake- is considered unsafe, the question of how to end a date becomes increasingly complicated. the cliché moment before an awkward hug or kiss now has evolved into a nod, or wave, or smile + eye contact at a distance. even if you feel comfortable physically touching the other person- going in for that hug- you can’t assume that they feel comfortable doing the same (unless they have explicitly said so). so if you failed to talk things over before that goodbye moment, you’re left to stand there helplessly, trying to channel the sentiment you would have expressed otherwise into a pitiful wave.
at one point or another, dating in a pandemic forces a conversation that unfortunately, most people might never have had in other circumstances. the pandemic requires you to talk explicitly about your boundaries with physical/intimate contact much earlier than you might have expected to or wanted to- which is both wonderful and anxiety-inducing. the great part of it is that we are all now required to do something we should have already been doing. we should all be talking explicitly about our boundaries with the people around us- platonic or otherwise.
but a more intense conversation about boundaries also generates anxiety, because it can be difficult to discuss your physical/intimate boundaries to begin with. let alone to have that conversation without making it seem like you are fully open and ready to engage in that kind of action with the other person/persons. how do you have a conversation about boundaries when you aren’t even certain that you want to/are ready to invite someone into your social bubble? in other words, how can you have a conversation with someone about kissing when you aren’t even certain you want to kiss them? how can you talk honestly about what you want, and what you don’t want; when you don’t even know that you “want” this other person? and when should you even do this?
in truth, there are no set answers to any of these questions. and even more truthfully, our answers can and most likely will change at any time. after that first date, you might have said you were open to a hug, but following the next date, that willingness may have gone away. dating in a pandemic requires you to be open to talking about your boundaries, frequently and honestly. dating in a pandemic requires you to fully accept and respectfully honor the fact that people’s boundaries change at any given moment, and without any explanation or justification needed. to do anything less is to make people feel unsafe, unseen, uncomfortable, and disrespected. in fewer words, to do anything less is unacceptable. and even though it is only the pandemic that has necessitated this kind of open conversation with people we don’t know all that well- this is the exact kind of conversation we should all be having, whether it’s a pandemic or not.
i see this necessary and intense conversation about physical/intimate boundaries- as one of the greatest benefits of quarantine dating because we are given an opportunity to learn how to better communicate with potential partners. as uncomfortable as these conversations can be at first, i am optimistic that practicing how to advocate for ourselves can and will make all our relationships stronger in a non-pandemic future.
so despite all the complications of quarantine dating, i have greatly enjoyed the experience. i have spent months subconsciously and consciously longing to talk to and meet friendly and unfamiliar people. i have missed seeing the world happen- the little moments that remind you that there is life everywhere. the dragonfly skipping across the road, the friends catching up over coffee, the children playing behind trees in their front yard. i have missed seeing the world happen, i have missed meeting people in that world where things are happening. strange as it may be, the experience of going on a date in quarantine re-exposes me to all of the small and intimate moments that make up human life.
what i’m getting at is this: going on dates in a pandemic involves a whole other set of considerations that most of us date-going people never had to consider before. and that vulnerability, that new territory, is both wonderful and awkward. the social script for dating in quarantine has not yet been written; it is a multi-part series that varies by geographic location, pre-existing health conditions, personal boundaries with physical/intimate contact, and individual evaluations of risk and reward.
there is no guidebook for these moments that we are experiencing. but the comfort is that we are all just as vulnerable, and eager, and confused as the people we are hoping to connect with.
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