I met my husband in 2007 when I started college for print journalism. We were in the same class.
We started dating in 2009; the week we graduated. We were married in 2015.
So, it’s been a really long time since I was single and involved in any kind of dating scene. I can vaguely remember online dating being an option back then, but I never felt the need to use it.
Smartphones were a thing, but not everyone had one and I remember texting my husband in the early days using T9.
When I pitched a story idea recently about dating during COVID-19, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I got the idea from my brother who met someone and started dating her in November 2020 as the province hurtled toward a complete COVID-19 lockdown. I found all the creative socially distanced dates he planned to keep things fun to be an interesting concept.
I wanted to talk to local singles, however at this point in my life, my friends are mostly all paired up.
How do you find local singles? As it turns out, they’re on Tinder.
To speak with them, I knew I would have to join.
I hesitated. I follow a page called Tinder Nightmares on Instagram and I know how cruel people can be on that platform.
I closed my eyes and pressed the download button.
To create my profile, I decided to be completely transparent about who I am and crystal clear about why I was on the app. I used my real name, age, location and photos. I wrote that my interests were Netflix, politics, reading and trivia, and that I’m a cat lover (all true).
In the bio portion of my profile, I wrote: “I'm a reporter writing a story about dating during COVID. Swipe right if you're willing to talk for a story!”
I had a first message prepared identifying that I worked for BarrieToday as well, in case people skipped the bio.
Then, I waited... a whole 10 minutes.
I was almost immediately matched with four men.
One of them agreed to be interviewed for the story. Although, at one point, the conversation took a turn.
When I asked him if he would provide his last name for my records, he responded: “No on the last name. If we were to maybe go on a date I would gladly share it.”
My old-married-lady anxiety spiked. This is too crazy, I thought. However, I persevered.
Toward the end of the interview, he asked if I was single. I said no. He asked if I was “just” in a relationship or “really married.” He also sent me a photo of himself that showed his body.
I’m not sure what “really married” means, and how it differs from being regular-married. Anyway, I thanked him for his time and said goodbye. Thankfully, I copy-and-pasted our conversation into a word document, because he immediately unmatched me, which deleted our entire conversation.
The other interviews I did for the story ran the gamut of reactions. Mid-interview, another guy asked me if I was single and when I said no, he said, “That’s a shame. You’re cute.”
Some people ignored my bio and my first message, or didn’t read them in the first place, and just went right into sending messages like, “Hey sexy, what r u up to?”
I snorted. Even if I were in the market to date, using decent grammar and spelling would be a high on the priority list for prospective suitors. Ending a sentence with a preposition? How dare you?
I also joined Bumble for the story, but got no matches. I got the impression not a lot of locals use Bumble, as after 10 minutes of use it ran out of singles for the Simcoe County area and told me to check back later.
It was a strange week of talking to people about what it’s like to be single these days. It made me gain respect for those looking for love.
It also reminded me how much I love my husband, and it made me feel lucky to have him in my life. Since March, we’ve both been working from home sharing an office all day, every day, and sometimes I forget how cool he is and what a great match we are for each other.
So, Happy Valentine’s Day to my wonderful husband, who would never end a sentence with a preposition.
Jessica Owen is a regional reporter with BarrieToday.
