The Way We Love Now: Love in the Time of Corona

Read full article here: https://www.glamour.com/story/love-in-the-time-of-corona-your-stories

When we asked you to share your #loveinthetimeofcorona stories, you answered in droves. Many shared their wedding stories—of huge parties for 500 canceled, of weddings without aging parents there to celebrate, of unexpectedly intimate declarations of love, of Zoom celebrations, of optimism amid lockdown. Others shared stories of Bumble love affairs, new relationships cut prematurely short, and missed chances to tell their partners how much they loved them, before a pandemic split them apart.

So much of our lives have changed in the past few months—routines have disappeared, daily rituals have fallen away—but if one thing is clear, it’s that the desire for intimacy has only gotten stronger. Our readers have put it best: There is still love in the time of Corona.

“It’s odd to have a man I don’t know that well suddenly around all the time.”

It’s 4 p.m. on a Thursday, and I have just made sweet passionate love to Simon for the 20th time in six days. Note: Simon is not my boyfriend. I met him on Bumble a couple months ago. We’d meet once every week or so for a low-commitment date, such as trying out a new restaurant conveniently next to my office or catching a fellow actor friend’s show already on my to-do list, with occasional flirty text messages in between. I loved Simon’s thick Australian accent. I loved how big his hands are. But what I really loved about him was he was completely accommodating and put zero pressure on me. If he suggested a get-together and I responded with “Let’s decide in a couple of days,” he was fine with that. If ever I felt I was in the driving seat of a relationship, it was now.

So when Simon showed up at my apartment, as ominous news reports of quarantine and self-isolation and possible death loomed, armed with three duffel bags stuffed with clothes and frozen meat, I thought, Oh, how cute, I guess it’s good to be prepared.

I hadn’t allowed myself to expect too much from any man, preferring to proclaim my girlfriends as my true soulmates and men as handy for dinner or a concert or a hookup. But that was then, and this is now. When the world feels like it could be ending at any moment, worrying there could be someone better out there seems ignorant and even ridiculous when there’s a sweet, loving, kind man right in front of me.

Admittedly, it’s odd to have a man I don’t know that well suddenly around all the time. Simon keeps telling me how beautiful I am, and I haven’t worn makeup in weeks. My go-to quarantine fashion statement is a gray hoodie. There are no parties to take him too, or work to impress him. It’s just us. A man and a woman experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime event together.

We’re both middle-aged parents, and our lives normally revolve around our kids, but his preteen children are with their mom enjoying a mountainside rental in Utah and my 18- and 20-year-old sons are happily stuck in the Bahamas with their dad and friends. Everyone seems to be on the same page; everyone’s content to be where they are. Normal parenting trials and tribulations haven’t factored into our bubble.

Is this connection, forged by having zero other options, what builds love? Or am I in some dating version of The Breakfast Club—when detention is over, will I go back to my old self? If my issues were intimacy, fear of getting too close, exposing my vulnerabilities for fear of getting hurt, or even fear of love itself, isn’t this the perfect time to step up and see if I can act differently, love differently? I have nothing to lose if the world is going to end. What if I used this time for self-reflection, for clarifying my priorities and identifying what it is I really, truly want in this life: love and connection?

Turns out Simon has quite a few desirable qualities beyond his bedroom expertise. He lives by a code of empathy and compassion. Like, for real. He grew up on a working farm and majored in agriculture in college, and has spent hours pruning my backyard. He can fix a toilet. He gained survival skills working at a safari. He’s a gourmet chef (literally), passionate about homemade soups. He indulges me in daily games of Scrabble and backgammon. He is clean and smells good and chops wood and tells hilarious stories that leave me laughing so hard my side hurts. He lifts me up and spins me around, physically and emotionally. His self-proclaimed goals are to give and to love. While I’m constantly texting my girlfriends, he’s trading jokes with his mates. And all through this he treats me as if I’m some kind of movie star paying attention to a background actor, like he can’t believe his luck. It feels amazing to be a team and fight the world together—all those things I had decided I don’t need but in fact I do.

As I cozied up with Simon, my phone still lit up with texts from other guys I’d been dating. I wondered what it would be like to be with them instead. I also wondered if Simon was staying in contact with other women. So I asked, and Simon answered honestly, and offered to let me read the messages. His gesture made me feel completely secure in his desire for me, yet provided that competitive edge I seem to crave when dating men. I began to realize I must treat this one with care, and not let his kindness go unappreciated.

We’re now months into this quarantine hookup, and as I’m snuggled inside Simon’s warm, toned arms, he whispers, “I’m falling in love with you, Alison.” They say miracles often arrive in disguise. They say growth is sometimes forced upon us. They say a lot of this and more. But what I say is…Simon, let’s go back to bed, and enjoy the moment together.

—Alison, 50, New York

“Just the two of us.”

Courtesy of author

On March 28, we woke up and agreed not to celebrate. This was not going to be our wedding day after all.

My partner and I were so looking forward to a daylong celebration with our loving and supportive community. But in the weeks leading up to the wedding, we watched our guest list of 300 shrink and shrink as people canceled their plans to fly out to Sacramento. Two weeks before our wedding date, we decided for the health and safety of everyone, it would be best if we canceled the wedding. (California’s stay-at-home order ultimately went into effect on March 26.) We spent days contacting all our guests to let them know our decision. It was so exhausting and sad.

We initially tried to still make the day special—we looked into going to the courthouse, but with California in lockdown, all the courts were closed. We even looked into driving to Nevada, but they too were shut down, so we gave up.

Then, at eight on the morning of what was supposed to be our wedding day, we heard our doorbell. Still in pajamas, we opened the door to find candles, flowers, and decorations on our doorstep. At 10 a.m. we got a call from our families in Minnesota, Portland, and Chicago. They made us all pour a glass of Champagne and watch the slideshow that should’ve played at our cocktail hour. At the end of the slideshow, it said, “Never leave until after the credits.” A little puzzled, we sat and continued to watch. Our eyes filled with tears as photo after photo of our friends and family holding up signs with words of encouragement appeared onscreen, promising that we would all get together to celebrate and hug once all this is through. It was such an amazing gift.

Later we set up a Zoom meeting with our close friends and families. We cut our cake, exchanged vows, and had a first dance. The song we picked out months ago was “Just the Two of Us” by Grover Washington. It seemed more fitting than ever. Although it was just the two of us, we felt the love and community of our big wedding even in physical isolation.

We continue to see the silver lining of our situation. While we don’t plan on rescheduling our wedding, we know there are more intimate special parties with our families all across the U.S. when all this blows over. Plus we were in sweatpants by 9 p.m., which never would’ve happened on our wedding day.

—Sally, 27, and Kabir, 34, California