love in the time of covid-19
you can't spell "quarantine" without u,r,a,q,t
My history with dating apps is complicated. Tinder blew up right after I had moved to New Orleans and was newly single. I was still dating men (aww but also ew) and quickly became overwhelmed by the sheer volume of men’s profiles that featured fish they had presumably caught. As a cathartic coping mechanism I began taking screenshots of the best fish photos I saw and posting them on the blog I’d created for the occasion, Dead Fish of Tinder. This was motivated by an equal mix of fascination masquerading as academic research (I even shouted out Veblen’s theory of conspicuous consumption, just to make sure everyone could tell I went to a liberal arts college) and because making fun of dumb men made it easier to handle my new reality of single-dom.
This blog ended up leading me to my accidental 15 minutes of fame: a Buzzfeed article emerged that had taken the photos from my blog and paired them with new (less funny) captions, and was titled, “The Definitive Guide To Finding The Right Dead Fish On Tinder.” I had made it. The hits kept coming: Cosmo called it a “genius tumblr” (omg tysm), Glamour shouted it out, and even the New Yorker gave it a nod (okay, indirectly, but still). The only real downside is knowing that I peaked by blogging about Tinder.
Fast-forward seven years - single again (but upgraded to dating women!), in a new city, and back on my bullshit. I have a lot of thoughts about relationships and quarantine, but don’t want to take away from my main point - people are going absolutely fucking nuts on dating apps during this pandemic.
In the first few weeks of quarantine there weren’t many references to the virus and the ones that made it into profiles were cutely/sadly naive. People like Ronnie were already talking about when this would be over and assuming that childhood trauma would be the most relevant trauma. Umm, Ronnie, we’re all living through the collapse of society as we know it, I think we’ll have juicier trauma to unpack than the attachment issues I have from my parents’ divorce. Three weeks, Mars? You’re going to have to save that painfully awkward moment for Valentines Day. Next year.
As quarantine dragged on into the third week and we started to realize this was our life for the foreseeable future, the tone started to change:
Lizett and Zsofi must have read the uplifting NYT article, “Sex and the Coronavirus,” which literally tells singles who live alone that they are “celibate now.” Cool. Thanks. I wish they’d taken NYC Dept. of Health’s glass-half-full approach aka “you are your safest sex partner.”
Times are tough out here for single people. Take it from Samia and Victoria:
I am usually the number 1 fan of being single but this quarantine has really had me rethinking my ways. Every now and then I catch myself wishing I had someone to record TikToks for me or take care of the never ending dishes in the sink. You know, the romantic stuff.
I never thought I’d be saying this, but I miss the days when dead fish was the worst thing I could find on Tinder. Simpler times.