My now-boyfriend and I met on a dating app, and it was sparks from the start. Our first date started at a fancy restaurant, then progressed to a basement gospel jazz music spot and ended with Miller High Lites at a dive bar. I knew there was a connection when we shared headphones en route to the last stop on our date, listening to CautiousClay, Still Woozy, and The National. We scheduled a second date just two days after our first and made it official two months later, on New Year’s Day.
We were weeks into our relationship when COVID-19 hit New York City, and he asked me if I wanted to shelter-in-place at his apartment. This is my first relationship in over three years—and my last one had an unhealthy power dynamic—so I was hesitant about rushing into something with someone I was just getting to know. Still, it was an unprecedented time, and there weren’t warning signs like with the last guy. I decided to go for it.
Well, after only a week of living together, he called me out for holding back during important convos. It was a make-or-break moment as we sat staring at each other, exhausted from talking all night. That discussion was a good thing; it tore down the wall I had built to keep him away, if not physically, then emotionally. Since then it’s like the final layer of protection that was keeping him away resolved.
Our lives have merged since then. He joined a Zoom call for my sister’s grad party, and I video-chat with his fam weekly. Every morning, we do a crossword puzzle. We’ve argued over whether the week starts on Monday or Sunday (it’s Monday), and he likes the toilet paper facing down, but I couldn’t care less so long as it’s stocked (we haven’t hoarded, promise!).
Looking back, if we hadn’t quarantined together, I would have regretted it. I’m grateful for how sheltering within the walls of his one-bedroom apartment helped tear down my other walls—the ones that could have come between me and someone I’m really into.
You Might Also Like