Pandemic Dating

Graphic by Yinne Smith

For me, this time of social distancing and quarantine began in the second week of March when my university told students they had to move out in five days and begin remote instruction after spring break. Since then, much of the world has been inside, limiting their movement to essential travel and seeing only their closest friends and family members. Birthday celebrations, graduation ceremonies, and even musicals have transformed from in-person affairs to digital ones. Gone are the days of hugs hello; now, elbow taps are in fashion. Most days, my identity is reduced to a few pixels in Zoom or on FaceTime. My makeup drawer has grown envious of Zoom’s “touch up my appearance” setting.

My generation has grown up using technology to connect with one another. We have always had telephones and computers, and over the course of our short lives, AIM has turned into Slack and landlines have morphed into iPhones. Even before the pandemic relegated us to our machines, members of my generation were already inseparable from our devices. They allowed us to connect with each other without the labor of physicality; now, two friends on separate sides of the globe could talk to each other from the comfort of their bedrooms. As our social lives moved increasingly online with the development of social media platforms like Snapchat and Instagram, our romantic lives followed. 

Though platforms like Match.com and eHarmony have long dominated the online dating market, they catered to an older generation, adults looking for marriage. More recently, dating apps such as Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge have emerged aimed at younger generations, drawing people already reliant on technology even further into their cell phones in search of connection. Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge are just a few of the many dating apps that have emerged in the last ten years, drawing us further into our cell phones in search of connection. During quarantine, dating apps have responded by promoting virtual dates, adding voice and video chat options, and allowing people to add filters for the level of social distancing they feel comfortable with. These vital safety measures make it ridiculously convenient to go on a date—you don’t have to leave your home or even have to change out of your sweatpants.

Even without a quarantine in place, my generation loved to swipe—the days of meeting people organically at a bar, party, or bookstore were slowly fading, replaced by carefully-chosen emojis, comments on Instagram posts, and Super Likes. As more and more of the country gets vaccinated, I have found myself wondering what post-pandemic dating will look like. 

Part of me thinks that the eventual restoration of physical socialization will usher in a new era of face-to-face interaction—perhaps people will be so enthusiastic about the prospect of going out and being maskless members of society again, they will take every opportunity to say hi to a stranger, ask someone for their number, or meet a mutual friend. Perhaps open mic nights, concerts, and beer gardens will become havens for kismet first encounters once more, and in greater force than ever. Zoom account passwords will be forgotten, and maybe—just maybe—iPhone batteries will be allowed to die on a night out without calamity ensuing.

But, another part of me fears that this period of hyper reliance on technology for romantic socialization will not end with vaccination; instead, it will make online dating appear even more indispensable than Gen Z already perceived it to be. After all, dating apps are convenient in more ways than one. They deliver a whole population to your fingertips at the touch of a button, and they are riskless in their straightforwardness—people are generally looking for the same things, adding some predictability to the activity, a stark contrast to the uncertain experience of asking someone for their phone number in person. It seems unlikely that touch screens will ever relinquish their grip on our love lives. Whether we, the members of Gen Z are stuck at home or not, we will swipe until our thumbs go numb, bewitched by the idea that our one true love (or our next hookup) is just one profile away.