Internet Dating Meets Covid-19

Now really is the time for internet dating. Have you noticed? Hinge is firing up a storm, bumble is buzzing away, OKCupid is moving at whatever speed OKCupid normally moves at and Tinder, well that's probably not doing so well. And why? Covid-19 baby!

In case you live under a rock and have somehow missed it, pretty much the whole world is being asked to stay at home at the moment. Social distancing, quarantine, lockdown, not interchangeable terms but we've been using them that way anyway, and as long as we haven't been leaving the house they have been doing their jobs. The key is to never go out, which should suit rock-dweller's just fine.

"But wait!" I hear you call, "How can I ever have rock-dwelling babies if I never leave this rock. Where will I meet my sweet-lovin' hermit crab?" Well the answer is pretty much the same as before. Online, just don't plan on actually meeting them. (That ain't government sanctioned.)

I began lock down speaking to 7 different men. And by speaking I mean barely remembering to reply because frankly I am the absolute worst. But they don't mind, it could be a couple days before I finally pick up my phone, letting out a heavy sigh as I do so, and type a response about how I spent my weekend. (How many interesting ways can you think of to describe Zoom hangouts?) And they reply within the same day, because they, like me, are bored with nothing to do.

And what do we talk about? Anything, it doesn't matter. We're all just lonely singles seeking any kind of connection and proof that we aren't going to die alone and so we keep the conversation going, even when it should have stopped days ago. If I come out of lock down with four pen pals and still no romantic leads I will not be surprised.

And the dating apps are facilitating this too. Hinge will happily inform you on opening the app that more than 80% of their users have stated that they would be down for an online date. I personally can't think of anything more terrifying, but it's nice to know the option exists, even if no one has suggested it yet.

But how long can these conversations actually last? We hear stories about catfishes that go on for years without the couple ever meeting, they don't even Skype (though who actually uses Skype anymore?) This would suggest that these kind of relationships are sustainable. Even they do need the intervention of a reality TV show in the end...

But it's fine because you and goatlover93 really can maintain a new relationship all throughout lockdown! Or can you? Perhaps it takes a certain type of internet creep to fully invest in a relationship with no meeting date insight? Or maybe I am just cynical...

After all in 2017 Stanford University published an article that stated 39% of heterosexual couples and 69% same-sex couples all met online, so it's not unachievable.

For myself the options don't look so bright, and it's all my own fault really. Will I keep replying to all the genuinely interesting men who I am currently messaging? My track record says no. I am now down to only three. But to be fair other's have dropped me along the way too. (Disappointingly they were the ones I was most interested in, why is it always that way?)

But will I keep swiping up and messaging more men? Hell yes! It's the only thing that keeps the crushing weight of indefinite single-dom at bay. Even if it does come with the vague anxiety that by making these connections now, and then losing them I am missing out on what could have been a real connection in non-plague times.

But at least for now I have my pen-pals. The slight thrill when a message buzzes up on my phone, the whisper of power as I decide to delay replying until I feel like it, and the fleeting feeling of guilt when I realise its been three days and I completely forgot to say anything.

"It's not going to go anywhere right now." I want to tell them in the first message. "But hit me up when this is all over because you are cute and exactly my type." Perhaps I should try this? They say honesty is the best policy right?

So, to all my pen-pals I loved before; I'll catch you on the flip-side.