If you were, say, a 40-something divorcee with an elementary school kid who you’ve been homeschooling during a pandemic, dating would probably be the worst. Also, in this scenario, say the state of Colorado was disintegrating from wildfires. And, also during this time, the leader of the free world was an overcooked hot dog who mocked his people. Maybe you’ve become a touch agoraphobic. That would probably make dating = gross.

But that’s specific. Who knows what type of hot-mess person is in that situation. Not us. We want to date. (The crowd goes wild.)

But we’re in a global crisis, assholes. You really want to smash up on faces and places with fluids spurting like a ruptured artery? That’s gross. I’m gonna go side with that broad from the first paragraph.

But fine, you want to date. It’s fine. *taking large swig of wine*

Dating could actually be fun during lockdown. Hikes, bikes, walks, nature, scooters, bugs, all that shit that arouses you Colorado kids. I suppose it’s a nice respite from couching it for 10 hours and polishing off season three of “Ozark” in one sitting.

<tangent> I have a mild case of ADHD. The last dude I dated BC (before COVID) would smoke bowl after bowl and we’d watch bad movie after bad movie for hours on end. Like “Last Action Hero” and “Child’s Play” shit. I’m sure many would dig that scenario, but my hyperactive brain needs frequent recesses. Like listening to tunes. Sitting on the porch. Staring at traffic. Playing dominoes. Cleaning the house. You know, talking. </tangent>

Dining would be fun for dating right now, too. Cities, including Boulder, have expanded outdoor seating so diners can grub where traffic once cruised. Buy yourself that fallopian tube mask you’ve had your eye on. Channel Moira Rose, slap some confidence on and strut through that date. No touching!

And wear a mask. Whether it’s a leg you cut off from bike shorts that had a hole in the crotch  (*raises hand*), or one of your crafty and creative masks, just wear one. I have allergy-, wildfire smoke- and pollution-induced asthma. From May to September when Colorado blooms like a crotch rash, I have a very difficult time breathing. (Sure I may also smoke cigarettes, but I’m quitting soon, leave me alone.) I still wear a mask. And I wear glasses, so they fog up like mad and I look like an asshole wandering around the grocery store. If I can do it, you can do it. So wear a mask.

Before you meet in person, map out parameters. Be up front. Make sure they respect your resolve.

Also offer full disclosure ahead of the date. Tell them about your two dates since COVID started: You watched one date fondle his crotch from a refrigerator-length’s distance. Then you ran, you ran so far away. The second date brought a pool stick and held it between you two while he recounted the entire series of “Lost.” It’s good to be transparent.

Be clear with parameters. If you want to make out, toss on a pair of hazmat suits. Or gird your damn loins and hold off until this nightmare passes.

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