A lifetime ago, at the very start of 2020, I naïvely informed my friends that this was going to be the year that I got a boyfriend.
They laughed at me of course; I had said this same thing at the start of at least the last three years in a row. But this year I really meant it. Previously I had felt that I genuinely didn’t have the time or energy to put into a relationship, six months post-university and working full-time, but now the thought of dating someone seemed more appealing than terrifying. I was prepared to put myself out there more, actually go on some dates and maybe even take up some of my friends’ despairing offers to set me up.
Hahaha. Well here I sit, 11 months later with no boyfriend in sight nor anything close to resembling one. A confirmed spinster at 24. Fab. And what are my options really? A Zoom date? A socially distanced date in a park somewhere? Sorry Mum, but the shomer negiah (no touching) life was never really my thing.
Does that make me incredibly shallow? Probably. But lockdown has afforded perspective and added gravity to my most trivial lifestyle choices. Do I really want to spend an evening chatting to Alex, 25, who loves pizza and quoting Peep Show? If I was picky before, you can imagine the enthusiasm with which I approach dating now.
On the other hand, lockdown has been a sharp reminder that I am very, very single. Now this was hardly a shock to me, and I am not embarrassed by it. I have never felt that my life was missing anything by not being in a relationship, and it has not affected my self-esteem or sense of self-worth. But self-isolating when single and living alone is draining, dull and often fairly depressing, leaving you with plenty of time to think about all the things that you want, but don’t yet have.
Perhaps that’s why I did agree to go on one date, when lockdown was ambiguously eased in mid-July. This date was actually four months in the making, as the American postgraduate guy I had been talking to in March was kicked out of his college accommodation and consequently decided to fly home to quarantine in the States when the initial lockdown was announced. This was one of the more creative excuses I’ve heard for cancelling a date last-minute, but fair play to him, he came back to London in early July and actually messaged me. We eventually managed one movie night (Mamma Mia, my choice) before I moved out of town and he returned home for good. We didn’t wear masks during the date, but we might as well have done, and I was surprised to find myself relieved. We had briefly discussed what levels of social distancing we preferred, and I appreciated that we’d acknowledged it from the off.
The problem is, going on a date in these circumstances is even more of a risk than it ever has been before. A friend of mine had a very different experience to me. She’d agreed to go on a date right when things initially eased in June, with a guy she shared lots of mutual friends with. When he arrived, he immediately greeted her by going in for a hug (completely normal pre-corona, but skin-crawlingly uncomfortable now), and did not seem to pick up on any of her back-off signals throughout the night.
As it happened, this friend was being particularly careful as she was living with a shielding parent, but nonetheless, it is not unreasonable to expect someone to ask before getting within close proximity to you. Unfortunately, this concept was lost on her date, and he later grabbed her face to pull her in for a kiss at the end of the night, despite my friend all but turning her back on him as she awkwardly tried to wrap up the evening.
So this is what it’s come to; hoping that our dates have the basic decency to at least offer to socially distance, so that they don’t potentially transmit an incredibly infectious virus. Add that to the depressing list of things we require to make it worth going on a date with someone.
And now we’re back in lockdown, with the only dating option a walk in the rain. Oh, well. Maybe 2021 will be the year that I finally get a boyfriend. Any names for me?
Rachel Smith is a pseudonym
