Hey, said the man looking back at me on my phone screen.
Nice to meet you!
I was sitting at my dining table, my phone propped up on a stack of books.
Lucas Ottone/Adobe Stock
I had put on mascara for the first time in weeks.
And I was wearing my nicestloungewear.
This is too strange, I thought to myself.
But I smiled back at him anyway, took a sip of my wine, and said, Hello.
Thus began my first virtual date.
A series of brief and disappointing romances in the months prior had left me craving some time to myself.
But after a requisite break, I was ready to jump back in.
Of course, my timing could not have been worse.
Lonely and isolated, I decided to give FaceTime dating a try.
I was going on a few dates, each night, but I wasnt finding anyone particularly interesting.
And then, a few days into my experiment, I matched with a man Ill call Aaron.
I settled onto my couch with a cup of tea for our first virtual date.
He was at his parents home, lounging on the bed in a sweatshirt.
Our conversation flowed effortlessly.
We seemed to have a lot in common, and his sense of humor was disarming.
I was still smiling when we hung up.
He texted me later that evening, and we quickly set up another date.
It was rejuvenating to connect with someone new.
To have an excuse to put a little effort into my appearance.
This period ofsocial distancingand for those like me who live alone, physical isolationmay continue for months.
So where can this connection really go?
Past experience has taught me that there are some deep pitfalls in relying primarily on digital communication.
Last year I had a fling with a man Ill call Peter.
For our first date we had drinks at a bar near my office and then strolled around the city.
Our physical and intellectual chemistry was powerful, and we spent much of the summer together after that night.
But August arrived and Peter went home to Canada.
I was sad to say goodbye, but I had been aware of our expiration date from the outset.
To my surprise, Peters departure from New York seemed to spark a spike in our communication.
His texts grew more frequent.
We talked on the phone often.
And I found myself feeling closer to him than I had when we were living in the same city.
We reunited in person about a month later.
I had returned home early from a vacation in Panama after injuring myself in a bicycle crash.
He decided to stop by and see me on his way.
It was a dramatic reunion; I was badly bruised and bandaged, hobbling around on a broken foot.
He arrived in his travel clothes with nothing but a small backpack.
We were glad to see each other and made the most of the few hours we had.
Peter departed once again.
This time, though, I was left swimming in a heady cocktail of feelings.
I was fragile, recovering both physically and emotionally from the bicycle accident.
Peter was attentive and made me feel cared for.
Peter and I stayed in close touch for the majority of his trip.
He shared photos of his travels, and I updated him on my orthopedist appointments.
We spoke on the phone whenever we could.
My amorous feelings were starting to fade.
Somehow, it felt like we had stopped getting to know each other, and the magic had evaporated.
But still, we were enmeshed.
I had grown accustomed to sharing my emotional life with him.
It took a few tries before we were able to end it for good.
Sure, its a time that feels ripe for romance.
We are vulnerable and lonesome.
We are at war with a common, invisible enemy.
The stakes are certainly high.
And, to me, digital love is like aspartame.
A little bit might feel good and tide you over, but something undeniable is missing.
Theres an enormous amount of nonverbal information you learn about a person just by being in their presence.
How they treat a server in a restaurant.
How they kiss you.
The information you get over FaceTime or text is a small fraction of what constitutes the whole person.
And yet at the same time, digital communication can elicit an immediate sense of intimacy.
I have no regrets about my experiment in virtual dating.
It lifted my spirits during a time in which optimism is an unrelenting challenge.
Dont get me wrong; digital communication has its merits.
Phone calls and Zoom dates with loved ones have been helping me stay afloat during this anxious time.
But they can also serve as a hollow reminder of the real thing.
For me, its a lesson in the vitality of human contact.
So Im choosing to wait.
To make a run at make the most of this time I have with myself.
