Your Stories Of Love And Dating During COVID-19

Curious City - En podcast af WBEZ Chicago - Torsdage

Whether you’re single or in a decades-long relationship, it’s likely coronavirus has had an impact on your love life. With Illinois’ “stay-at-home” order and new social distancing rules in place, the pandemic has fundamentally changed how we’re supposed to interact with one another, and that can include our romantic partners. Now, some couples are unexpectedly navigating long distance because of quarantine; other single folk are trying out virtual dates now that bars and restaurants are closed. Chicago dating coach Bela Gandhi said the disruption caused by COVID-19 has made people seek out relationships and romantic encounters. “People are craving connection more than ever because it's constrained,” she said. “I think it's heightening the feeling for a lot of people that they would really like to have a romantic partner.” Dating app data matches Gandhi’s observation. The app Hinge reported a 30% increase in messages among users in March. According to Tinder, there were more than 3 billion swipes on March 29, the highest number of recorded swipes for a single day in the app’s history. People have also been turning to non-dating-specific apps and games to meet and spend time with loved ones — some people reported that they’ve scheduled virtual dates and even attended wedding ceremonies in the Nintendo Switch game Animal Crossing. We wanted to get to the stories behind the stats, so we asked you how your relationships and dating lives have fared during COVID-19. From learning how to use sex toys while staying socially distanced to quarantining on a boat with an ex-flame, here's what you had to say about love, sex and dating during the pandemic.  Virtual blind dating made me rethink my approach to love Relationship status: Dating someone virtually through a new kind of matchmaking service The backstory: Most of Michael Gorman’s dating life has been facilitated through apps like Tinder and OkCupid. So when someone in his workout group chat posted a link to a signup form for a new Chicago dating experiment called “Quarantine Bae,” he figured he had nothing to lose. “I wasn’t doing anything else with my time ... why not give it a shot?” he said. “Especially right now when the world is a very isolated place, I’ve been living for all of the video chats and other opportunities to connect with other human beings.” Quarantine Bae is a virtual matchmaking service started by two single friends who wanted to help connect other single people vulnerable to loneliness during quarantine. Co-founder Stefanie Groner said she was jaded by most dating apps, so she wanted to create something different. “We thought to ourselves, ‘Can we design more meaningful interactions and a different way to date that’s relevant for coronavirus?’ ’’ Enter COVID-19: Quarantine Bae matches people based on their preferences listed in the sign-up form and sets them up half-hour-long “blind” Zoom dates. The calls are audio-only, and participants don’t receive any information about each other going into the call. Michael said he was more nervous going into his first Quarantine Bae date than he’s ever been before. “I couldn’t come up with things to talk about or questions to ask him about his life,” he said. “It was kind of like [being in] that new Netflix show called Love is Blind.” Despite his nerves, Michael said the Zoom conversation “never got slow or uninteresting.” When his BaeMaker (matchmaker) checked in with him afterwards to ask if he wanted his match’s photo and phone number, he said yes. He said he was surprised when he saw what his match looked like. “I didn’t realize he was black, and when I saw the picture, I was taken aback a bit,” he said. “I was still interested in him — it didn’t matter — but it did surprise me a little bit.” Now what? Since their initial Zoom call, Michael said he and his match have gone on three video chat dates. He said he appreciates how Quarantine Bae set things up, because it pushed him to re-evaluate what’s important in a pote

Visit the podcast's native language site