Dating in the time of COVID-19: the surprising truth about love during lock down

Lockdown is upon us and meeting prospective romantic partners is off the cards. That makes life tricky, but it might also be the best thing that ever happened, says Kelly Baker.

Kelly Baker. Picture: Fiora Sacco

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It’s week 976 of COVID-19 lockdown (or at least it feels like it) and I have decided now is the perfect time to tackle online dating.

I have no real idea why chatting with complete strangers suddenly seems a good idea aside, I suppose, from the need of connection of some sort.

Even writing that makes me a teensy bit embarrassed, but, as it turns out, I am not the only one dipping a toe in the digital dating realm during these distinctly strange and deeply isolating times.

Far from it in fact.

A quick whip around my crew and a deep dive into the topic of online romantic forays on Facebook (a valuable source of info when it comes to topics such as these) and I discover I am not such a rare beast - apparently there are plenty of folk who are flirting their way through the pandemic.

Kelly Baker and Michael Brown attending a La Prairie event at Percy Marks Jeweller, Sydney Australia.

And why not?

What else is there to do?

If you’re single then the answer is this - not a great deal. And also human beings crave interaction, contact, and right now we’re getting very little of either.

So, here I am. Online dating.

It’s a brand new world and can I be frank here - it is not one I am entirely certain I wish to be a part of. I am not 100 per cent certain why although I have my theories. But more on that in a moment.

For now, back to online dating during the time of COVID-19. In my case, it wasn’t hard. I filled out forms, posted a pic and suddenly there I was and I have to admit it did start off positively. Very positively in fact. Truth be told I was on fire.

‘Smiles’ and messages literally flooded in.

I get this happens to everyone who signs up, at least for a time. A ‘fresh meat’ phenom if you will. But despite there being dozens of offers, (impressive) very few of the men who reached out piqued my interest (not so impressive).

Also, they were a little bizarre in their communications.

For example, Mark sent a ‘smile’ - a site indicator of interest. To be honest Mark was not my type, but I figured what the hell. The man had indicated he wanted to connect and who was I to judge him before we even spoke.

Kelly Baker when she was the Beauty and Health Director at the Australian Women’s Women's Weekly.

I cautiously sent him a smile in return. Mark must have been online because the little dots indicating he was typing popped up immediately. He was responding. Hurrah! I leaned forward in anticipation. The message arrived and I opened it immediately. And this, no word of a lie, is what it said.

“Thanks for reaching out, but I am not interested. Cheers.”

What now?

Er, dude.

You. Messaged. Me.

I shared this exchange on FB and was barraged by women, and plenty of men too, who had had similar exchanges via online dating sites and apps. There were hilarious stories and anecdotes and a handful made me snort out loud, but underneath the chat and frivolity there was a sense of something else. And it was this - a deep sense of loneliness.

If there’s one thing this virus has done it’s forced us to be with ourselves. To be still and in our own company. And some of us are discovering we don’t like ourselves very much, if at all.

And we are easing that discomfort by hopping online and seeing who’s there, who we might be able to connect with. Who can maybe distract us.

But the truth is, for me at least, and I suspect the vast majority of people, connection, true connection anyway, cannot come from digital chat alone.

Sharon Goldstein and Kelly Baker at the event hosted by the beauty brand Illamasqua launch at Otto restaurant in Woolloomooloo, Sydney.

Eventually you must meet face-to-face and it’s only then we can know if there’s anything there. That magical, indescribable something, and well, currently, meeting up is hard to do - if not illegal (it kind of changes day to day).

That makes things complex because, sure, you might be good looking and I might find you appealing at first glance, but do I get to see how you move, the way you tilt your head when you think, the darling way you cover your mouth when you laugh? No.

Am I able to enjoy you opening a door for me, or complimenting a waitress or even patting my dog while we picnic in the park? Again no.

So perhaps in a way the pandemic is a blessing - at least when it comes to dating and all things related. Because it forces us to hit pause.

Kelly Baker (right) with Sigourney Cantelo at an Avon lunch at Cho Cho San restaurant, Potts Point.

We might connect online, but right now that’s about all we can do.

We cannot meet in a bar for drinks. We can’t go for cocktails and dinner.

And so we must establish a rapport, a genuine spark without any of the distractions, alcohol being a big one, physical intimacy another.

And if we can do that, truly, with nothing more than sharing sentences online then we might very well be a match - a lifelong one even. We will have to wait and see. There’s something old-fashioned and deeply romantic about that really. We must endeavour to know one another before we decide if we like what we see. Because we have no other choice.

No matter how much we think we like the look of one another online, we must wait until the lockdown is lifted and life returns to normal before we can test the connection for real. And who knows, that might just lead to the most devastatingly romantic couplings of all time.

Just not with Mark.