Lockdown Ruined My Dating Life
Okay, fine, I ruined it. But lockdown didn’t help.
For nearly six weeks, I was tethered to my phone. I’d set it aside, trying to “go dark” for hours at a time. But within minutes, I’d grasp for it wildly like an addict.
I didn’t care much about texts from my friends and family. My mood depended on the presence or absence of an unread message from one particular person.
Most of the time, I would be crestfallen. Rarely, I’d receive a dopamine rush of validation, while using all of my willpower not to text back too soon.
Just prior to the lockdown, I’d fallen in love. This was no mere crush. This was a pre-teen, head-over-heels, life-or-death situation.
I faced an internal dilemma. Were my feelings due to, or at least exacerbated by, my indefinite government-sanctioned aloneness, or would I have felt this crazy regardless? And what about my super unhealthy behaviors related to it?
That’s right, I almost forgot to mention my embarrassing love declaration in the form of a 12-minute voice message, as well as his risky breaking of quarantine. The latter includes what must have been a marathon of blackout drunk sex based on the number of condoms strewn around my apartment the next morning.
Things waxed and waned. And, at various times throughout the lockdown, whenever the possibility of a relationship between us became more remote, I would open dating apps and scroll or swipe manically through them. By the time I had a half-dozen matches, I’d no longer feel like messaging any of them.
I ran out of matches on Bumble. I scrolled seemingly all the way through Match and OKCupid. I re-downloaded Tinder, then deleted it again without opening it (smart move, self).
Everyone sucks, I think as I browse through countless profiles. When did that happen? I don’t remember everyone sucking before.
Perhaps it was always like this. Perhaps I was trying too hard, casting too wide of a net, rather than determining who truly resonated with me. Or perhaps I’m just jaded and elitist now, not in the mindset to recognize potential.
Also not ruling out the possibility that lockdown could have made me permanently anti-social and germaphobic.
The more I think about this, the more the pattern reflects the emotional roller coaster I’ve gone through over the past few months. The yin and yang.
On the one hand: The manic swiping. The re-reading of text conversations until they’re memorized. The elaborate romantic fantasies in my mind that may or may not closely resemble the plots of trashy Netflix shows.
On the other: The crying on my floor. The serial un-matching after three boring messages. The intense, near-homicidal anger I feel when a certain someone has viewed my Instagram story but hasn’t yet texted me back (you know who you are).
And underneath it all, the insidious underlying belief that a relationship will “fix” everything. If I can find someone digitally, my two months of solitude won’t be for naught. Maybe then everything will fall together and I won’t feel so alone.
I just have to force it unnaturally into place, as I always do.
It’s time to face the facts. The only thing the lockdown did was expose and exacerbate pre-existing, if well-concealed, habits.
I’d played out these cycles a hundred times before, I just also had enough normal-person things going on that they didn’t seem to be an issue. That’s when I realized it was all in my mindset.
The thing is, all of my dating choices over the past few weeks were coming from the wrong place, a place of loneliness and desperation, fueled by my need for control. I was seeking to fill a hole.
I can’t blame the lockdown for my problems. If anything, it has forced me to set my priorities and adopt a more focused strategy. I’m no longer matching and messaging to kill time or feel a rush (I’m aspiring to, anyway). I try to get to a real connection as fast as possible. Otherwise, I have better things to do.
It’s also changed how I date in the real world. Before, I wouldn’t think twice about slotting a coffee date into my already busy schedule. Even if I’d only been messaging the person for a couple of days. Even if I only felt lukewarm about them.
Now, even though I’m allowed to physically see other human beings, I think much more carefully before putting myself in a situation that exposes me to their germs.
Besides, going out is not my default anymore. I see it as a relative hassle. If I put on makeup and shoes and waste my one excursion this week on a lousy date, I would never forgive myself. Or maybe I’d just wear sweatpants to the next one.
With an impending new normal for everything, dating included, I’m sure there will be a lot of trial and error. But I don’t think this crisis will stop me from finding love. Really, I don’t think any situation can stop me from finding love, or rather love from finding me, as long as I’m in the mood to be found.
