It’s enough to get myself psyched up for a coffee date in the best of times. I’m way past the age of feeling jitters. Hope doesn’t pop up much anymore either. The self-talk before heading out is, Just be open. Truly, I try.
Most of the time, the guy is decent enough. Sitting down to coffee with a stranger is harmless. It’s often no more exciting than a stilted job interview but, fortunately, I’ve always liked job interviews. Weird, I know. Still, it helps keep me resilient after a string of dud dates.
The score since COVID is 0-4. I’ve met four guys in the past six weeks or so. Nothing memorable, nothing to build on. That’s not unusual. What is hard to adjust to is how these coffee dates are different due to the coronavirus. I’m really not liking the new parameters.
All four dates have taken place outdoors. I’ve been super careful throughout COVID and I’m not about to not put myself in risky situations. I have my inconsistencies, as I think is the case with most of us, but I’m far more cautious than anyone in my family and most people I know. While I’ve had both vaccine shots and my physical health is great, I wonder about possible long-term issues that may come from getting the virus, even in a mild form. Sitting in a café with a dozen or more unmasked strangers seems totally unnecessary.
Outdoor meet-and-greets would have been better in the middle of summer, but it took me months after getting double-vaxxed to muster up the motivation to dive back into online dating. Hello, autumn. This being Vancouver, the rainy season tends to extend through the calendar seasons of fall and winter. Yes, this is just the beginning…
Two of the four dates have been all wet, one in pouring rain, the other only in steady rain. Yeesh. It’s hard to make your best impression in raincoats and boots. Who are you under that glorified garbage bag? One poor chap showed up in leather shoes that weren’t weather-appropriate. “Are you sure you want to go for a walk?” I asked. Yes, yes. Very well—not your Mom. It was a go-nowhere date and I have no doubt he drove home cursing and muttering, “I ruined my shoes for that?!”
Yes, so sorry. Next time, listen to your mother.
My next coffee date was another soggy encounter. I trekked a half hour each way in the rain to meet Jorge, a sweet man from Mexico City. He showed up without an umbrella, the hoodie of his jacket covering even more of his appearance. We stood under an awning, a welcome dry spot where we could figure out how to proceed. Jorge proposed grabbing a drink on a sheltered, heated patio at a nearby pub. As it turned out, we couldn’t go because Jorge had not been vaccinated. (In British Columbia, you have to show proof of vaccination to access non-essential indoor settings.)
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he said. He showed me an appointment card he’d gotten earlier that day to get his first shot. He explained he’s been holed up in his apartment throughout the pandemic, contemplating life and reflecting on himself. The implication was that he hadn’t stepped out at all.
That’s a lot of contemplation and reflection. Had I missed a reference to Buddhist monk in his profile? I asked, “Did you at least set aside time to make banana bread?” He looked at me quizzically, my humor lost in translation or just not funny. Jokes are always a risk, more so when someone doesn’t know you at all.
The vaccination issue abruptly ended our chat. Or maybe he despises banana bread. (If he’d only shared a dislike for banana bread, that would have been something we had in common. Maybe something could have grown from that.) Jorge wasn’t up for a walk. He told me he has chronic health issues. (But no urgency to get vaccinated? Um, okay.)
Perhaps I bear some of the blame for the nonstarter date. Prior to meeting the other guys, I’d asked if they were double vaccinated. I’d neglected to do so with Jorge; if I had, we wouldn’t have met at all—not yet, at least. COVID still has implications on dating. While there are obvious differences, dating during COVID reminds me of meeting guys during the AIDS crisis. Here, with someone you barely know, you’re forced to ask about an otherwise private medical condition due to possible implications. Putting hands over your ears, closing your eyes and humming loudly does not remove you from the current times. Raising the subject is part of staying proactive about your health. Asking Have you been vaccinated? is significantly more informative than What’s your sign?
A couple of days ago, I grabbed coffee with a guy in Whistler. First impression: Nice black mask! Sleek, industrial quality. In the year 2021, is that the basis for physical attraction?
Nice dresser…just look at that mask!
Gosh, I wonder what he’d look like if I got him
out of his mask! So naughty.
After grabbing our coffees, he chose for us to go for a walk instead of sitting on the patio. (It’s interesting that, on my three dates with vaccinated guys, each of them seemed even more cautious than me.) Rain was in the forecast. My phone indicated a 100% chance at that hour. Still, we walked…and stayed dry!
The masks came off, without any foreplay. Nonetheless, it’s hard to get a feel for whether I was attracted to him with his heavy coat and a baseball cap that he kept on. (He wore a cap in both his profile pics, too.)
Part of a first date is checking the guy out. Really, it was hard to get any impression. I wonder if my shoulder-to-knee coat left much of me cloaked in secrecy, too.
Each of these four outings ended with “It was nice meeting you.” (Three out of four, at least. Not sure about Jorge. We stood at a street corner with me hoping he’d stop telling me about his health condition so that he could get back home, warm up and be well.)
I sent no follow-messages; I received none.
I’m rather certain the outcome would have been the same even if we’d taken off our coats and sat in a café, gingerly sipping lattes. These were not matches. Still, each of the four dates was shorter than my average indoor coffee date, pre-COVID. I suppose we saved ourselves at least a half hour or an hour’s time meeting in a less cozy environment. It felt less personal, more transactional. There seemed to be a timer running. There was less incentive than ever to share an extended one-off conversation with a stranger. Venturing out is possible again, but connecting continues to have its limits.
The rainy season will only get rainier. The temperatures will drop. I’ve often lamented all the coffee dates I’ve had. I’ve joked that I might have to swear off caffeine. I don’t know if dating in parkas, hoodies, baseball caps and rolling sheets of Plexiglass is my thing. (Okay, no Plexiglass, but that’s probably temporary, supply shortage and all.)
Maybe I can figure out a Plan B. Apparently, I could emulate Jorge and spend more time contemplating and reflecting.
Plan C: If you know anyone in Vancouver that would love MORE banana bread, shoot me an email. With extra time on my hands, I suppose I could become their banana bread dealer.
