The Loneliest Year: Part One

March 2020

I officially started my quarantine on March 15th. The Ides of March. 2064 years after Julius Caesar was assassinated by 60 conspirators in the Roman Senate.

“Beware the Ides of March” indeed.

Ironically, as we all went into isolation, I was watching a television show called Touch about how we’re all connected by hidden patterns. The show is basically Kiefer Sutherland running around, hitting things and yelling his son’s name for an hour. It provided a strange comfort.

On the second day of quarantine, I tied a handkerchief around the lower half of my face, and I risked a trip to the grocery store to see if I could buy a month’s worth of non-perishable food items in case all the grocery stores closed within the week.

Later that day, Jesse posted a photo to Instagram of his latest short film, and one of the actors was Jordon, a friend with whom I’d gone on two dates. Small world. I texted Jesse that I would be running errands for hard-to-find supplies and asked him if he needed anything. He wrote me back that he was good, and he wished blessings to my health and well-being.

In the week that followed, I ate S’mores Pop-Tarts and ice cream for breakfast. As it turned out, when left to my own devices, I became Kevin from Home Alone.

Concerned about the toilet paper shortage, I ordered a bidet attachment on Amazon. The installation took much longer than ten minutes and the product itself was not nearly as gentle as advertised. But this was the new world.

I finally downloaded Final Draft, and I continued to work on the first drafts of two different TV pilots—a multi-cam with Darren via Zoom and a single-cam with Spencer via FaceTime.

I stayed connected to the outside world via phone, video, and social media. I practiced the piano, and I posted songs to Instagram. I had chats and virtual tea with friends, and I was asked to guest-perform via Insta-Live, FaceTime and Zoom, and within a week, I’d grown tired of them all.

For two weeks, I lived in fear that I’d already contracted the virus, certain that my throat was sore (it wasn’t) and that my sugar-fueled anxiety headaches signaled the onset of severe COVID-19 symptoms.

One evening, I posted an Insta-Story thread about Jesse. I needed to express how much I loved him, and I hoped, by expressing how I felt about him, I might be able to fully let him go.

Jesse saw the story thread, and he didn’t respond. I figured he wouldn’t. But at least he knew. And I continued to try to let him go. To date. During a global pandemic.

I chatted on WhatsApp with a guy who kept pressuring me to meet in person, and I also asked a cute director out on a FaceTime tea date via Twitter. Before the pandemic, I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask a director out on a date, but it was now anything goes.

I also went on four FaceTime tea dates with a guy named Joseph, whom I really liked. He was similar to Jesse, but emotionally available and more open to the idea of being in a relationship. On our first date, I drank tea from a Little Mermaid mug while he held a mug that featured My Little Pony. He showed me the painting he was working on, and he played me “Mary Had a Little Lamb” on his keyboard, and meeting him for tea soon became the highlight of my solitary days.

Towards the end of March, I had a big win when I finally found paper towels, toilet paper, and off-brand cleaning wipes. I kept a reasonable amount, and then I delivered the rest to friends in need.

I quickly discovered that I was less shell-shocked than most. My world had come crashing down long before the pandemic when Jesse told me he had feelings for someone else. Having undergone months of desolation and despair, I didn’t have to adjust, which allowed me to be of service to others.

Someone shared a post on Facebook that claimed the #1 song on your birthday was the official theme of your life. More irony: mine was “You are Not Alone.”

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Part Two:

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Note from the Writer

This is part one in a thirteen-part essay series that details my year in quarantine from March 15, 2020 to March 15, 2021. If you enjoyed this essay, I hope you'll add a heart and continue reading the other essays in the series.

Tips are not mandatory, but greatly appreciated.

Thank you for reading.