Dating apps can be difficult and daunting at the best of times, and many users give up on them entirely. But for some the pandemic was a chance to reassess their priorities, and they were able to forge a much deeper connection.
When the country first went into lockdown, I – reluctantly – reloaded my dating app. With the world on pause and friends navigating the choppy waters of home schooling, I needed something to pass the time. I had never had much luck with the apps but, this time, I connected with Bart, a Dutch PR manager who lived in Windsor. To begin with, I assumed our conversation would follow the same pattern as most of my chats on the apps – last a few days, then fizzle out. To my surprise, this time was different. Instead of ending in the great bin-fire of Hinge matches lost, a friendship grew. We began to have regular Zoom cinema nights – watching the same film online and chatting about it afterwards. As we got to know each other, I began to notice how kind and thoughtful he was, and I appreciated his interest in my life. Slowly I found myself opening up, something that had not happened for years.
Before the world turned upside down, I was happy with my single life. I have never wanted children, and spent my time with friends, occasionally dipping my toes into the murky pool of online dating. The process was always the same. Dates lasted an hour or two, before I would slink off home to catch up on Love Island. Every few years I would find that elusive spark but it was always with a charismatic, gym-honed banker who would allude to a string of heartbroken ex-girlfriends and send me aubergine emojis at 3am. I knew this penchant for unavailable men was unhealthy, but despite my efforts, I somehow never managed – or bothered – to break the cycle.
At 35, I had been single most of my adult life and come to accept that love probably wasn’t for me. Yet suddenly I had time on my hands and few distractions – except for the apocalyptic headlines. That may be why, for the first time, I did not write off this 'match' when he didn’t tick the arbitrary list of 'boyfriend check boxes' mapped out in my head.
In June, Bart went back to his home town of Helmond, in the Netherlands, for the summer, but two months later, we agreed to finally meet for a long weekend in a beach town near Rotterdam. I arrived drenched in pesto I had spilled on the journey, but instead of being judgmental, he laughed. It has been 18 months and we are still going strong. He’s the first man who makes me feel comfortable to be myself – which I hadn’t noticed was missing in previous relationships. Lockdown made me realise I had been searching for a unicorn instead of seeing what a real relationship could bring.
I am not the only one. So many people have found their priorities shifting since the pandemic began and changed their lives dramatically: from quitting unsatisfying jobs to swapping the city for the country. With bars, parties and social distractions of single life off limits, it has also prompted a desire for deeper connections in many of us. Another dating app, eHarmony, which helps users to find lasting love, saw a staggering 85% year-on-year increase in registrations from January to June 2020. And according to Hinge, a third of users discovered more about themselves and what they want from a relationship during the pandemic.
