Love during quarantine: How SC residents navigated the ‘pandemic dating’ minefield

Mac Blackburn usually hates dating apps, but in June she decided to give Tinder another chance. After three days, though, she was ready to give up. She’d already run out of patience for the online dating app.

“I didn’t really have any particular matches that I was fond of — or any that I saw a future with,” the Myrtle Beach resident said. “Of course, Tinder is more of a hook-up kind of site anyways and not much of a long-term-relationship site, which is what I was really looking for. ... I tried my luck anyways.”

Then she met Walker Kilbourne. A month of virtual dates led to meeting in person.

“When we finally met, it was like we didn’t even remember our lives prior to dating. Everything just jibed,” Blackburn said.

Even during a pandemic, dating finds a way to go on.

In-person dating has been more possible in mostly-reopened South Carolina compared to a still-shut down state such as New York, for example, but many considerations still come into play. Do you wear a mask on the date? Meet in the park for a walk? Or do you risk going to a bar? Is it better to meet someone online first, or find them “organically”?

Finding love online

Blackburn couldn’t put her finger on it, but “something about (Kilbourne) was just different.” The pair chatted online, FaceTimed and got to know each other for a month before meeting.

Both were hesitant, having recently left long-term relationships and unsure if they were ready for love again. The 23-year-old said she was scared to meet him in person.

Yet, “It was like he was the best friend I never knew I needed or wanted,” she said. “We have tough times just like any other relationships, but it has been the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced.”

Before meeting, Blackburn said she and Kilbourne, 25, talked about COVID-19, though she admits that, initially, it probably should’ve been a bigger concern.

“We made it a point to stay home rather than go out to dinner or anything unless we were grocery shopping,” she said. “Our first real date was in September when he asked me to be his girlfriend. We went out to Olive Garden. I think that was like the first time we had really gone out together as a date night kind of thing. Now all we really do is work and come home.”

Staying home more meant they spent more time thinking about how to make the most of their dates. Instead of going to a restaurant for a romantic night out, they spent an evening drawing pictures for one another on a sketch pad. Another night they drank wine and painted.

The pandemic, she said, “made us realize that going out to dinner, going on dates, etc. isn’t what builds a strong relationship foundation.”

Dena Domenicali-Rocelle, a licensed clinical social worker in Connecticut, said she’s heard similar stories from her clients, several of whom live in New York City, which has been one of the most shut down parts of the country during the pandemic. People are not going to just give up on dating because of the pandemic. They’ll work to find ways around it, she said.

For better or worse, “The longer you live with something, the more accustomed you are to it and the less afraid you become of it,” said Domenicali-Rocelle, who wrote an article for Psychology Today about pandemic dating. “Whether it’s the first date or the 10th date, you just have to have a discussion about the choices that each one of you are making. … It’s somewhat more pragmatic and less romantic, but a necessity.”

Domenicali-Rocelle said she’s also seen many people turning away from traditional “hook-up” culture toward focusing on long-term relationships. There’s a greater interest in being emotionally, not just physically, invested in potential partners, regardless of how long they last.

“Online dating, generally speaking, is sort of like an all you can eat buffet, and so part of that does tend to be having sex quickly, and that was certainly off the table,” she said. “So people just got to know each other better.”

Knowing people were wary of meeting, online dating services such as Bumble flooded the airwaves last spring with ads about how it’s OK to text, talk and video chat with people for weeks and how it’s OK to fall in love without ever meeting.

These dating services, instead of seeing declines when coronavirus shutdowns began, saw major surges. Tinder recorded its highest number of swipes in a single day in March 2020 — 3 billion — while OkCupid saw a 700% increase in dates.

At some companies, the rise in users has led to major benefits. Bumble’s Feb. 11 initial public offering on Nasdaq led to an initial 64% surge in its stock price during its first day.

If it hadn’t been for the pandemic, Blackburn said she might not have ended up on Tinder at all. Her experiences with apps “never went well,” and she still says she wouldn’t recommend them, believing instead that she got lucky.

“The horror stories I’ve heard from meeting people through dating sites even before the pandemic started was enough to freak me out for life,” she said.

How COVID-19 changed intimacy

Dating for many has completely flipped. Rather than focusing on physical attraction first and emotional connection later, extended online conversations, or physically distant offline ones, force anyone looking for romance to take a step back.

Domenicali-Rocelle said she has several male clients who were “serial daters” — hitting up bars several times a week to meet different people.

Some of these clients, in their 20s, suddenly found themselves lonely, never having invested in something more long term. Now that’s all they are looking for.

That’s not the case for everyone, of course. Some University of South Carolina students said they found themselves missing those one-night stands. They appreciated the temporary comfort without the extended commitment.

In many cases, these shifts in intimacy have also led to more conversations about the other person’s adherence to COVID-19 health recommendations. Some people will quarantine and get tested before meeting a date. Others will just have “the talk” and go forward if it seems like both parties generally are being safe. Then there are those who don’t care at all.

“The conversations themselves sort of shift from things that are more lighthearted to things that are more serious. You’re in this uncomfortable situation together, even though you’re just meeting,” Domenicali-Rocelle said. “There’s just more, you know, more emotional sincerity that can come up within that.”

In Myrtle Beach, profiles on the gay dating app Grindr run the gamut for how much users care about following guidelines.

Many Myrtle Beach users still want to meet up with someone new, whether to hook up for a few hours or meet for drinks at a bar. A few are more cautious, saying they only want to chat online or will only meet up outside and socially distanced.

On Tinder near Columbia, three college students’ profiles mentioned the pandemic, with one saying “don’t bother messaging me if you’re not COVID conscious.”

USC freshman Tim Brosnan just got out of a two-year relationship, so he decided to join Tinder.

When he was home in Chicago, he would only talk online. Now back at school, he has gone on two dates — one to Tios Mexican Cafe and Cantina and the other to the Russell House dining hall.

“COVID was not part of the discussion because we have required testing now. And I feel like that’s a much better precaution than last semester,” Brosnan said. USC’s on-campus students are required to be tested once a month.

Meeting “organically”

Jaymie Hinds walked into a Montana casino with her mom last July to gamble for a few hours. What she didn’t expect was running into a long-lost love, Jeff Rusnock.

Hinds, 41, had spent much of the summer at Holter Lake and planned to only be back in Missoula for a few days. Yet, when she walked into the Lucky Lils casino, Rusnock, whom she’d met 10 years before when he worked there as a runner, was sitting in the same spot where she’d first met him.

She didn’t recognize him at first.

“He had his mask on, sitting at a machine drinking a White Claw,” Hinds said via Facebook Messenger. “When my mom and I walked in he tapped his watch and said, ‘Right on time.’ ... It took me a minute then I realized who it was. He pulled the ole, ‘if you need a reference, you can use me,’ and slid me his number. I waited a few hours before texting him, and we’ve been together since that night.”

Hinds said Rusnock told her that he just knew she would be at Lucky Lils. It wasn’t too hard of a guess, though. She admits she spends quite a bit of time there.

“It was meant to happen,” said Hinds, who now lives in Myrtle Beach with Rusnock, who’s also 41.

Not everyone can meet organically like Hinds.

For queer people, bar closures at the start of the pandemic — some of them permanent — and the continued danger of going out were particularly damaging. LGBTQ+ people rely heavily on bars to meet and see others like themselves. Without them, community members can find themselves isolated.

“A lot of marginalized groups of individuals are feeling increased levels of loneliness and isolation right now,” said Andrew Hancock-Shaw, who is queer and a licensed sex therapist in Myrtle Beach. “Knowing that those safe spaces and places aren’t there, I think, is hindering those groups of individuals right now.

“Of course, any minority group is often resilient during these times. They always have been.”

Frustration happens

It was right around the start of the pandemic when Austin Mitchell, a senior at USC, started talking more seriously to a guy he had met earlier in college. Soon after that, they spent the entire summer together. “It was just me and him every day,” he said.

But it was not always easy. “He was a lot more frustrated during the pandemic than I was,” Mitchell said. “We both lost job and internship opportunities, but his career depended on people congregating together.”

They also did not agree politically. It started with the 2020 election and the Black Lives Matter movement that erupted over the summer.

“That was rough, spending all of our time together during the pandemic and that was kinda the only thing we had to talk about,” Mitchell said.

In the beginning, Mitchell’s then-boyfriend was more understanding of Mitchell’s concerns for safety. But as the pandemic lingered, he had had enough of it. “It’s frustrating to have someone you care about just not be on the same page,” Mitchell said.

Mitchell said they both agreed that starting the relationship in the middle of the pandemic was not the best for either of them, but they are willing to give it another chance.

“We are both trying to work things out,” Mitchell said. “It’s just really complicated.”

Dating, safely?

New York City’s public health department made news last spring with its rather detailed guidelines for whether and how to have sex. Not many other places, including South Carolina, followed suit or stayed up-to-date, leaving many feeling unsure.

One Grindr user in Myrtle Beach mentioned in his profile that he would be fine with having sex with someone he doesn’t know, albeit while wearing a mask. Others were less concerned, their profiles stating they were looking to meet up right then, mask optional.

Hancock-Shaw, the sex therapist, said there hasn’t been much research done on how best to stay safe when it comes to sexual intimacy. There’s not been any research showing that COVID can be transmitted through sex, yet he cautioned that “we do know that engaging in close proximity with someone is going to increase the risk.”

He advises that the best way is to make sure to have a conversation about each person’s health behaviors ahead of time.

“I’ve heard some people say that COVID is the new STI ,” Hancock-Shaw said.

For people who are comfortable going to bars with friends but not on dates, Hancock-Shaw said it’s important to keep in mind that people are constantly forced to assess personal risk each day. What might feel safe one day might feel dangerous the next.

One benefit of the pandemic, Hancock-Shaw said, has been the way people have been more intentional about dating, which he hopes continues.

“Even though COVID has impacted us, it doesn’t have to impact us in a negative way,” he said. “Humans are resilient. We often think outside of the box. We’re creative. So I think just lean into that right now and use that to your advantage.”