Before the coronavirus shut down most of D.C. in mid-March, Nick preferred to meet his dates in person, at bars or through friends. Once his usual spots had closed and he’d been staying at home for a couple of weeks, though, he decided to give online dating a try.
“I was like, ‘Well, I’m not gonna meet anybody in person, so I might as well download Hinge,'” says Nick, a 29-year-old climate scientist who works for the federal government and requested that he be identified only by his first name. “And I really didn’t expect anything to happen. I was kind of, honestly, just bored.”
The health crisis loomed in his conversations with potential matches. It also showed up in people’s answers to fill-in-the-blank prompts like “I’d rather be…”, as Hinge users shared photos of their pre-quarantine adventures.
Then, in early April, Nick met Julie.
He thought she was cute and left a comment on one of her photos. Her warm reply stood out. “Most people are really short and not friendly,” Nick says. “And I just got this different vibe from her.” Their conversations were easy and enjoyable. They quickly moved from chatting on Hinge to exchanging numbers and texting.
But how would they meet up during a global pandemic? Would it even be safe or advisable to do so?
Nick and Julie are among the Washingtonians attempting to navigate the early stages of new relationships amid the ongoing crisis. These daters have had to come up with their own rules for romance, while abiding by social-distancing guidelines and stay-at-home orders. Six people DCist interviewed said they had to weigh their desire to meet in the flesh against the potential health risks of COVID-19. Ultimately, many chose to see each other in person, including at their homes, or at least said they were open to that possibility.
Nick suggested to Julie that they go on a virtual date—a first for both of them. They each grabbed drinks and, from their respective porches, spoke via FaceTime for about two hours. They found they had a lot in common, from the prosaic (the fact that they’re both government employees) to the peculiar (their grandfathers drove the same car, a 1968 Chevy Corvair).
“Right away, we just got to know each other as two people that would click on a regular date,” says Nick. “And [we] shared some stories, shared some laughs.”
Locals are communicating in various socially distant ways. Judy, a 30-year-old assistant who works in public education and asked to be identified by only her middle name, downloaded Hinge and Bumble in mid-March. She thought people might be looking for good conversation and decided to give those apps another shot after using them last year.
Judy had a few Zoom dates too, but nothing clicked until she met Peter (also his middle name). The first night they matched, they texted and sent each other voice notes until around 3 a.m.
“We had a great conversation,” says Judy, who lives in Fairfax County. They talked about sports, and found that they’re both big foodies. The next day, they went on a virtual date, which lasted six hours. “There was something different about us,” Judy says. “We really just get along very well, and we’ve been able to talk about pretty much anything and everything under the sun.”
After a week, they decided to meet up in person. Judy picked up lunch, and they ate together at Peter’s house before going for a drive and walking along the Georgetown waterfront. They wore face masks and kept their distance from other pedestrians, according to Judy. They’ve both been working from home, and Judy says the risk of getting sick didn’t worry her because neither of them had been coughing or feeling ill.
Since meeting up, Judy and Peter have continued dating, having lunch and watching TV shows like The Last Dance and Euphoria. They even decided to become exclusive: Peter deleted the dating apps from his phone right in front of her. Judy had already deleted hers, although she doesn’t remember exactly when. “It feels like we’ve been together for such a long time,” given how much they’re hanging out, she explains. The coronavirus has forced them to be close through “actual one-on-one time, because we can’t be out in public,” adds Judy. “So the conversations are more intimate.”
For others, the pandemic has changed love stories that were already underway. Libby Kerver, who teaches seventh-grade history in Northern Virginia, began dating her boyfriend Scott in late February, weeks before COVID-19 hit the area. While they’d met eight years earlier as freshman in college, they lost touch, only to reconnect when they matched on Bumble. They’d gone on about four dates by the time the commonwealth’s coronavirus restrictions went into effect.
After Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam issued a statewide stay-at-home order March 30, Kerver and Scott stopped visiting each other’s homes, in part out of consideration for their roommates. Since then, the couple has moved their dates online, doing virtual trivia, attending game nights with friends, and cooking. For the latter activity, they pick a recipe ahead of time and make the same dish over video chat, “kind of like a cooking show,” says Kerver.
“It’s been different,” the 27-year-old says. “It works, though.” Kerver adds that the pandemic has brought on a kind of accelerated intimacy, forcing her and Scott to skip the more casual phase of dating she’s experienced in the past: the one involving after-work happy hours and inviting the other person to join a night out with friends. “That felt sort of weird,” says Kerver. “I was like, ‘What is the rule book for this?'”
She and Scott, who is an accountant, ended up discussing their relationship status sooner than they might have otherwise. “I was like, ‘Do you want to keep seeing each other? Because it’s going to look different,'” she says. “And we both agreed that we wanted to, but we acknowledged that it was going to look different than what we had planned for.” About three weeks ago, the couple started going on socially distant walks. They’ve continued to keep physical interaction to a minimum.
Some area residents have been similarly cautious. Julie Daniel, who works for an interior-design firm and lives in North Arlington, recently downloaded Bumble after taking a break from the app. She says she’s come around to the idea of meeting up with someone at a park, as most locals appear to be taking the crisis seriously, but may hesitate to date a hospital nurse or doctor. “Maybe at that point I would stick to FaceTime,” says Daniel.
Meanwhile, virtual dating shows have popped up on platforms such as Zoom, YouTube, and Facebook, helping locals who are stuck at home connect with each other.
Erika Ettin, a dating coach and the founder of A Little Nudge, an online-dating consultancy, says that as of mid-March, most of her clients decided to stop dating for a while, as they didn’t know how long the crisis would last. But each passing week, more and more of them tell her they’re ready to start again, even if from afar, says Ettin.
Normally, she would have recommended her clients to meet their dates in person as soon as possible. “You can’t tell if there’s chemistry until you meet,” Ettin explains. “Well, that advice goes out the window these days.” Now she’s giving her clients different tips, including to start out by video chatting and dress their best (“at least the top half of you”). On video calls, light sources should be positioned in front of people to avoid shadows, and devices should be kept stationary to prevent the other person from getting dizzy. “It’s still a first impression, regardless of whether you’re meeting face to face or FaceTime to FaceTime,” notes Ettin.
One move she cautions against is using a virtual background. A client complained that her date had used two of them—the first an ornate library, the second an elegant living room. “It feels like you’re hiding something,” says Ettin. Some clients have asked her about sexting. “Do whatever you want!” she advises. “Go crazy.”
For Nick and Julie, the couple who met on Hinge, there came a point where meeting in person felt okay. One day, Nick picked up an orchid from a grocery store and walked to Julie’s house in Park View. They went for a stroll around the neighborhood, ending back at her place. Then, they watched Tiger King on Netflix.
They’ve since stayed at each other’s homes on occasion, and the relationship is going well despite moments of nervousness. “I could tell the first time we hugged, it was kind of like, ‘Uhh, how do we do this?'” recalls Nick. He’s excited to see how their relationship evolves when the crisis subsides.
“She’s only known me with my coronavirus beard and mustache,” he says. “I’m looking forward to how things will be when things do go back to normal.”
