10 People You'll Date in the Pandemic
The editors look back at their pandemic dating experiences.
The Rake
The first month of lockdown, you download Bumble for the first time. An early match, The Rake is flirty, curious, a bit confused about what “bisexual” seems to mean. His live-in girlfriend finds you the next day on Instagram, from the account she manages for their shared business. A wedding photography business. You unmatch him, befriend her, and plan to get drinks with her when “things settle down in the pandemic.”
The Love Bomb
Unbeknownst to you, you were only meant to be a hookup. He pursues you for months via DM, long after you deleted Bumble the first time. After a long summer of responding to your stories with heart eyes or flame emojis, he finally asks, boldly, “hey — what if we have a little fling?” You respect game, so you agree to a masked, outdoor coffee date. Upon arriving to this date, he mentions to you he’s just started reading Infinite Jest. I wish that’s where you ended things. What ensues is two weeks of love bombing, followed by a singular text: “my parents will never like you. it’s over.”
The Zealot
Famously cooked daal in his toaster oven. Somehow, this wasn’t a red flag to you. He’s charismatic as a cult leader with a charming French accent. An LA musician of middling success, yet somehow verified (?) on social media. Your first date is 12 hours and ends on the rooftop, watching the sunset and slow dancing to Bad Bunny. Reasons cited for breaking up with you: following Kamala Harris on instagram, texting him that Meghan Markle “is a graceful interviewee.” Much like the Love Bomb, his profile says he is interested in a relationship. He leads you down a manic entanglement of romantic evenings culminating with a single text, declaring that he “isn’t ready for this.” He collects his copy of The Phantom Tollbooth that he lent you, and sends you strange and scary texts, followed by a five page letter her sends to your house encouraging you to join his evangelical cult. As far as you know, he’s still making dreampop beats out of his studio apartment in DTLA.
The Roommate
Tell your roommate you’re in love with her just to mix things up! It’s not a true quarantine if you don’t fall in love with your co-habitants. Just make sure you don’t really blow things up with any sort of grandiose display of affection, like a silver monogrammed locket. Call off the band!
The Marxist
Painfully hot and painfully cynical, mid 20s reformed bad boy. Adjacent to Nudes Only, but rooted to home. Deeply disinterested in your personal life and accomplishments, but very complimentary of your nudes and seems to be sex positive. Your entanglement is entirely virtual with no plans of ever actually meeting. Looks uncannily like Timothée Chalamet.
The Poly PhD Student
You brought flowers to your first date (pre pandemic times!), which wasn’t a date after all, but a group brunch with their entire polycule. Because of shared pandemic trauma, now you’re like old friends with an odd almost-romantic past. You think this will hurt you, but it doesn’t.
The Milquetoast Match
The Milquetoast Match is always preparing for his “next big move.” You have two Facetimes that cover mostly surface level niceties. You continue to schedule Zoom dates that don’t go anywhere, but that you keep up for the niceties. It seems he is always studying for some coding exam, and asks you about your PhD applications. Perhaps it was more of an accountability relationship. You continue to text him until he drifts into the periphery of your attention, which is rather soon. You hit him up, most platonically, to ask about his pending move. He did in fact move, to Hawaii, with his lovely girlfriend. You continue to like each other’s posts. He’s nice!
The Canadian e-Girl
Three Zoom dates, a virtual wine tasting. She ghosts you after her dog dies and tells you she is returning to Canada. The next time you see her on social media, she has adopted the exact same dog and still lives in the next town over. You regret sending her a copy of your zine.
The Nudes Only
An exchange of sexts / nudes strictly predicated upon the distant promise of eventual sex. Thousands of miles separate you. You have barely interacted in person, if at all. One of such sexters breaks character and asks you to coffee on Valentine's Day morning. You recoil from the gauche intimacy of this gesture. You mostly ignore his texts, but have been feeling a bit down lately since the Zealot broke things off.
You
Nowadays, your evenings are mostly baths and rewatching Gossip Girl. You’re boosted, moisturized, have deleted all the apps, and oh — what’s this? The Roommate loves you back! You’re … engaged? To be married? Sorry guys, seems to that the secret to pandemic dating is fall in love with someone you already live with.