Book 2, Part 1: Otters in Quarantine (Chad the Dad)
April 5, 2020. I was up to run an early morning workout.
As the world was collapsing and we were all guessing how you got COVID, how best to contain it, and whether or not you had to wash your groceries before bringing them into your house, I saw a guy I’d met in real life for about 2 weeks. It did not work out, by my choice. I’m not going to talk about anyone I’ve dated that I met in person in this blog, since most of them are still in my life in some capacity. But I will say, it was a huge step for me to choose—in the middle of global insanity—to be on my own rather than using the crutch of having someone who wasn’t right for me just to have someone. I found a strange joy and fierce sense of strength in that choice.
For the most part, I’ve had more trouble walking away from the men I’ve met in person and dated than the ones that I’ve met online, if they weren’t right for me. Maybe because they don’t start out as an abstract concept in my mind? Maybe because I either already knew them before we started dating, or had friends introduce us, or they would remain part of my life after we ended things? Probably because with a relative stranger, it’s easier not to get too attached to someone I shouldn’t get attached to. It’s easier to walk away from them if my gut is warning me that something won’t work.
The aisle for paper towels and toilet paper.
Anyway, March marched by (“marched” is honestly the wrong word; what term describes how a hyperactive child, mixed with a highly anxious adult, mixed with a severely indecisive squirrel, moves?). March brought us “social distancing,” a term that in the space of a weekend went from a phrase no one had ever heard of to something people said as if it had always been around. March brought us discussions of flattening the curve, the closing of schools, and a toilet paper scarcity. (Fortunately, my ex-husband had put toilet paper, paper towels, and Clorox wipes on Amazon Subscribe & Save when we were married and then never adjusted the frequency at which they were delivered. When we split up in 2018, I ended up with vast excesses of these supplies. Even a year and a half after our split, I had so much that I made it through the shutdown and the shortages without ever having to buy any. These turned out to be the most valuable thing I got in the divorce—who knew?)
The outdoor group workout company I worked for pivoted to virtual so fast our pony-tailed and capped heads were left reeling. I set up a workout studio in my living room to teach Zoom classes (eventually I switched to my kitchen). I will forever be grateful that we didn’t have to shut our businesses down; instead, we had so many clients seeking us out, I saw people on the screen that I hadn’t seen in months in person. I found a purpose in those unbelievable times, bigger than myself or my little family. I was able to help my clients keep connected to our workout community, fight stress, and find a bit of normality through routine (and I was able to achieve those same goals thanks to them).
Kids, don’t try this at home.
My son and I cried and biked and played sword fight with foam swords together. I insisted we go on “daily adventures” to abandoned parks and greenway trails so we wouldn’t lose our minds. We made rice krispies treats (Pro Tip: DON’T roast them on the fire; it doesn’t go well), cooked hot dogs in the fire pit, and started a vegetable garden (because I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to feed my son if things went really bad, but I didn’t tell him that). Outside of the terror, it was strangely wonderful.
April came, the lockdown extended, and I moved my studio to the backyard and sometimes the front porch to take advantage of the warmer weather, hauling my living room floor lamps out the door and down the ramp to the grass in the evenings. Instead of North Carolina’s usual bait-and-switch of a week of rainy spring weather followed immediately by sweaty summer heat, it was an unusually nice spring. I was repeatedly grateful for that as I used gardening like meditation and ate meals with my son on our front porch. I started doing online yoga in my backyard under the trees. I took coworkers’ Zoom workout classes in my kitchen. I carried the weight of trying to keep my son’s world safe and happy during a global pandemic alone. Our home turned into a sanctuary.
I also found myself back on online dating. Talk about a time when you have NO chance of meeting anyone “in the wild.” I tried not to despair at the prospect of how long we would be in lockdown. I didn’t always succeed at those attempts. While I wasn’t sure about whether or not I felt comfortable meeting anyone in person, I definitely felt like I needed hope. I know it was hard on couples to be in quarantine together, but during that time, I would have given anything to have a partner. Instead, I went days without human touch. My therapist (on our virtual calls) suggested I hug myself to trick my brain. That just seemed sadder to me, though. I watched couples work out together on my screen and fantasized about having someone to jump on online workouts with me as I chased my cats off my workout mat and whispered to myself that I wasn’t becoming a crazy cat lady.
The world of online dating changed, too. Apps added an option to indicate if you preferred a socially distant first date, or (later) if you were vaccinated. People talked in their profiles about how lonely and bored they were. Articles were published about how to go on dates without leaving your own house.
I liked Chad’s profile because it made me giggle, and he’d clearly put thought into it. It didn’t give me any warning gut pangs (lesson learned). His opening line was to ask if I’d dialed in my at-home workout routine yet. That made it super easy to start talking to him. He was into fitness too, but joked that he had taken some time to come to terms with the fact that I was most certainly stronger than him. “Hope that’s not a deal-breaker,” he quipped. I cracked up. I liked that he didn’t feel like he had do any of that toxic macho shit to prove himself superior to me.
We started messaging. I was more guarded after the last few guys, but when he complimented my correct use of a semicolon in a text, I practically swooned. Then he referenced a Kurt Vonnegut quote on semicolons. That’s the kind of stuff that gets me dreamy-eyed. No, really.
We had seen a lot of the same movies and had a lot of the same geeky references. Even the more obscure ones: When I referenced David Bowie in Labyrinth, he came back with a Dark Crystal reference. He also liked running and soccer and yoga. He constantly made me laugh, and it felt easy to joke back with him; I felt cleverer when we were texting, even...funny. The man who’d moved to California had told me I was funny the prior December, and it had surprised me. I’d never thought of myself as funny in a dating scenario before. With Chad was the first time I FELT funny. Writing to him gave me the space and processing time to explore that, and his personality made it easy. We started texting throughout the day. I felt less alone.
He was the first single parent with younger kids that I’d seen romantically, and I liked that he automatically understood a lot of that part of my life. I could text him about how my son had just shut himself in his room for the first time at the age of nine, and he, having twelve-year-old and nine-year-old daughters (as well as a younger son), could chuckle (through text) and sympathize.
We had our first “date” the night before Easter. I finished my preparations for the following morning, put on my favorite tank top, and nervously jumped on a video call. It was nice. I don’t remember a lot about it. I still didn’t get any warning twists of the gut. Neither of us was as funny as we were when we were texting, but for me that’s because I need time to think and/or I need to be comfortable with someone. For all I knew, he was the same.
We kept texting after that. Every day.
We talked about meeting in person for weeks before we finally did. He suggested we have a socially distant picnic at the outdoor gardens of the NC Art Museum. It was probably the most romantic and creative first date I’d had. Just before sunset, I nervously drove to Raleigh to meet him. I used up my You’ve Got Mail reference too early in my last post, because THIS felt like that movie. We’d been texting for weeks, and I already liked him a lot. Meg Ryan’s line kept running through my head:
“The odd thing about this form of communication is you’re more likely to talk about nothing than something. But I just want to say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many...somethings. So, thanks.”
As I pulled into the parking lot, I felt like maybe this was a moment I’d want to remember. Like Barkley the dog might come running from around the bend in the path. Cute? Maybe. Overly idealistic? Probably. Nevertheless, I kept my eyes and ears open.
***To be continued.***