I was eligible for the vaccine in late January in my state because I’m a teacher. When all was said and done, I was going to be “safe” by early March.
As the last drop of Pfizer coursed through my veins, I had one thought: time to get going on those dating apps. I got the all-too-popular pandemic divorce and had been celibate—I mean, single—since last summer. I felt like I missed out on one of the summers of my relative youth. Besides everything being closed and canceled, I was going through a huge, terrible life event and wasn’t cavorting around. I was ready for an adventure.
March arrived, my immunity kicked in, the cherry blossoms popped, and the air got warmer. I fired up my apps. Quoting Hamilton, since that’s all I could do until Broadway comes back, I thought to myself, “I am not throwing away my shot!” I had to get me a date for summer. I wanted someone to go hiking with! I wanted to kayak! I wanted a beach day buddy that wasn’t my dog!
At the time I got vaccinated, I was a hot commodity: most people my age weren’t vaccinated. Most people my age wouldn’t be ready to exchange the same air without risk until at least mid-May. So, I forced myself out there with the help of my bff who, as a psychiatrist, was also vaccinated and able to visit and sit with me while I weeded through the 500+ likes in my neglected dating app.
I updated my profile, proudly displaying my (birthdate and last name redacted) vaccine card selfie. I put it in my bio with a disclaimer that I’m still going to wear a mask because science is real, and I messaged some dudes, proudly flexing my teaching degree for the first time ever. With the help of my bestie, I soon had some actual conversations going with several men who, as far as we could tell, are not serial killers, or at least are flying under the radar.
My friend went home and a couple of my virtual conversations turned into real asks out into the world. It was nice to know they might actually want to meet me in person and then I got worried…what if they ONLY want to meet me because I’m “safe?” What if I’m a consolation prize? What if they’re just lonely and wanting someone who won’t kill them with corona? What if what if what if what if.
So ask yourself: Do I like him, or is he just vaccinated?
Are you only attracted to him because he won’t kill you with diseases but you still aren’t sure if he is a serial killer? Then, don’t date.
Do you live in a red state and are just so relieved to meet someone who believes in science that you’ll do anything to get in his pants? That’s maybe not enough to form a connection over…
Is his facial hair the kind that you’d be embarrassed to bring home to Mother? Then, swipe him away.
Is he perhaps only into you because you can come and go under the cover of nightfall and immunity? That’s a dealbreaker, ladies.
Is he the most annoying human you’ve ever met and only talks about his obsession with tugboats but, you know, with the lights off and some ear plugs it might work? No.
Does he ask you anything at all about yourself beyond your vaccine status? Promising.
Is he half-vaxxed and worth the wait? Then go for it!
After a lengthy vetting process, I agreed to meet someone in person. I drove to the date, chock full of immunity, caffeine, and a little anti-anxiety medication. My team was rooting for me to have a good time, but there was no rush. I missed my window of being the shiny, vaccinated thing. I didn’t need my vaccine to stand out from a crowd of available bachelorettes, anyway. If my person was ready for me, they’d like me, shots and all.
Image: Polina Zimmerman / Pexels
