Suzanne Harrington: Dating during Covid-19 has entered a new phase now that we are out of lockdown

HOW do you date post-lockdown?

Singles have been Zoom dating throughout, but Zoom is tricky even with people you know — buffering awkwardly with unknowns is as appealing as intubation. How can you flirt without pheromones? 

What if your connection dies just as the conversation is coming alive? Far more relaxing are the regular threesomes you’ve been having with Ben & Jerry. But now it’s over. Kind of. So far. Maybe. A bit.

So, you might emerge, like a mole in the morning sunlight, as the situation becomes haphazardly eased, blinking at the Primark and Wetherspoons queues and wondering what to do next. (This Irish mole resides in Tory Britain, where we have been told, in roundabout terms, that shopping and drinking are more important than not coughing Covid-19 all over your nan).

Mask on, mask off? No mask, triple-layered mask? Blustering Boris and his bumbling pack of acolytes, clueless to the last gasp, are only offering contradiction. But never mind, because the pubs are open. You can finally meet that prospective date.

Having chatted on an app for so long that you now qualify as pen pals, despite living in the same town, the day of the face-to-face has arrived. Or will it be mask-to-mask? Unless you’re a gimp, texting someone you have never met to ask if they would prefer you to wear a mask on a date is a novel experience. 

What if they say ‘yes’? What if it’s bright and you have to wear sunglasses as well? Will it be like a secret terrorist cell meeting?

You’ve planned to meet for a drink at the local Covid Arms. And by ‘plan’, think Operation Desert Storm. Think Hannibal and his elephants crossing the Alps. Think the Normandy beach landings.

There will be multiple, complicated interactions with the pub via phone and website to pre-book a table in the garden. They will want names, dates, times. Will they take your temperature on arrival? A blood sample? DNA swab? What if your date turns up in a hazmat suit?

What if the pub garden is freezing and all the staff are wearing plastic visors, masks, and gloves, and sloshing sanitiser gel everywhere, so you feel like you’re in some kind of outdoor emergency department with trays of beer?

You might forget to focus on your date — who seems to be perfectly lovely from 2m away — because you can feel the crackle of tension amongst the bar staff and wish you’d worn a hoodie.

Going indoors to the warm, empty bar requires special dispensation. Will they allow it? It all feels closed, even though it’s open.

Throughout, you can hear someone talking. It’s your date, being charming and funny, but all you can think about is whether you needed to negotiate with the pub in advance for a bowl of chips.