If only I had known that the relaxing of lock down regulations was so close, that the opening of the pubs was so imminent I could almost stick to that grotty beer stained floor, taste that first glorious sip of a lager tops and smell the stench of old cigarettes and stale urine whilst drunkenly making a new best friend over the sinks in the ladies loos, complimenting her outfit and learning her full sexual history from two metres away. But alas, hindsight is a wonderful thing, Boris was acting like a little f*** boi and being rather coy about committing to any dates. As far as I knew, we were still in lockdown for the long haul.
It was whilst having a break from staring into the socially distant abyss that I read an article in The Sunday Times Style Magazine (so cultured). It discussed the research that dating apps have been doing into the way Coronavirus has changed our dating. According to Kate Johnson, the consumer editor at the trend forecaster Stylus, "Online dates are now more likely to follow the pattern of match, message, and then a precheck by video. It means that if you do meet in real life, you'll have a much better idea of whether or not you are compatible." When put like that, maybe video dating makes sense. It would be a real shame if I had been messaging someone for months and months of lockdown only to find I had absolutely no chemistry with them or that they had a voice like Alan Carr - I have nothing against Alan Carr, I'm just not sure his voice is quite the dulcet tones I would like to wake up to whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
The articles also stated that 64% of Hinge users have been on virtual dates during lockdown and Bumble has recorded a 42% increase in the number of in-app video calls since mid-March. Sorry, but can we just take a moment to appreciate what is currently happening, this is the most grown up I have ever felt writing this blog, this is me living up to my full potential, this is me fulfilling my title, this is The Dater Analyst analysing actual dating data. In my professional opinion, the conclusion to my in depth analysis is basically that I have been being totally pathetic and it's time to pull myself together, rip off the plaster, and have a video date.
When it came down to it, it was not someone who I had been chatting to for months on end that I decided to take things to the next level with. It was a relatively new addition to the Hinge rota: Will from Bradford. Will and I had only been chatting for a couple of days but the messages were proving rather refreshing, they were interesting, entertaining and contained ample puns. When Will asked if I fancied trying a video date I decided it was time to take the plunge. I did voice my concerns about the correct etiquette for a video date around the level of sartorial effort one should go to for these events. Will completely put me at my ease by suggesting we have a Sunday evening "wine and comfies" date. Suddenly it seemed like a bonus rather than an oddity to not have to leave the house or make an effort with my appearance for a date, maybe this video mallarchy wasn't so bad after all. There was still the slightly terrifying possibility that a family member might either advertently or inadvertently join my date by walking into my bedroom mid-call but I decided that honesty was the best policy on this one. I tried to drop it into conversation over dinner that Sunday as nonchalantly as possible that I couldn't join them that night to watch our customary episode of Queer Eye as I actually had a date. I paused, waiting for either an onslaught of wooing noises or a barrage of questions. Neither were forthcoming, in fact, no one seemed to care less. I left them in the company of the Fab Five and headed upstairs.
Although we had agreed on comfies, I decided that the leopard print fleece onesie that I had been sporting for the majority of lockdown was probably pushing the boundaries of socially acceptable comfort too far so opted for leggings and a big jumper instead. I also still wasn't drinking, but felt like I should make some sort of effort beyond sipping from my reusable water bottle to make the evening feel a little bit special. I treated myself to a can of Dash, a sparkling water subtly flavoured with wonky fruit, which I felt, although non-alcoholic, still gave off the impression I was both adult and trendy. Influencers and interior designers have all jumped on the bandwagon of writing endless columns on how to set up your desk space to create optimum lighting and a background that appeared interesting without being distracting. Short of completely reorganising my childhood bedroom there wasn't much I could do so I turned on a lamp and shoved some of my extensive teddy collection in the wardrobe. The next issue was tech. Nothing kills a romantic vibe more than struggling to connect to a Zoom meeting. It's immensely frustrating and makes you feel and look like a technologically challenged octogenarian. I can safely tell you that given the choice, I would absolutely choose the terrifying game of dating Guess Who when you walk into a packed pub over drawn out text conversations trying to find a video conferencing platform that works for both parties any day of the week.
When we did finally manage to connect (technologically rather than romantically at this stage) I was rather glad I hadn't been given the task of trying to identify Will in a crowded bar as I'm not sure I would have been successful. Even over video, he looked quite a lot scrawnier and rather more ginger than his profile had made out. Again, I do not object to either the slimmer man or the auburn haired, but I do have a slight issue with false advertising. In Will's case the advertising may not have been entirely false but it had definitely taken some artistic licence. Having said that, it could also be argued that three months into lockdown and without any visits to either a hairdresser or a beautician, I wasn't exactly a carbon copy of the pictures on my Hinge profile either.
Will was clearly nervous, as was I, and the first ten minutes of the call was a two person waterfall of word vomit, composed entirely of chunks of mundanity. How were our weekends? How were we finding lock down? How was lockdown in the countryside as opposed to in London? Did we still have jobs? How had we found working from home? Word vomit, in its essence, is fairly uncontrollable - it is very hard to switch on and off. The issue with video calls as it becomes very difficult to understand what the other person is saying when you both try to speak at once. The combination of these did not make for an effortless flow of conversation. Eventually we both calmed down a bit and settled into an easier rhythm where we could get to know each other better.
Will was actually quite interesting. He worked in financial consultancy (bare with me) and was currently on the team for a client based in Sweden, meaning that prior to lockdown he was splitting his time, sometimes his weeks, between Stockholm and London. Due to a totally irrational desire to live in Stockholm based on no foundational knowledge of the city other than one night spent there, I was rather taken by this set up and probed him on the Scandi way of life. What was becoming unfortunately apparent throughout the conversation though, was that Will was far wittier over message than he was face to face, or screen to screen at least. The stream of conversation was starting to flow better but it definitely wasn't a giggle a minute. As I sipped away on my Dash, Will seemed to be ploughing through a bottle of Rioja at a fairly impressive rate but even that wasn't helping matters. Maybe it was the choice of conversation topic.
We moved on to hobbies. Will enjoyed spending his free time bouldering and climbing. Of course he bloody did, along with every other man in his twenties across London. It is maybe unair of me to hold this against Will individually but I honestly think, throughout the history of The Dater Analyst, I could count on one hand the number of dates that I have been on where my companion has NOT brought up the topic of bouldering. I have nothing against bouldering as an activity in itself, I like spending my free time scaling fake cliff faces with conveniently placed hand-holds as much as the next person but I really think it's become a bit of a cliche amongst our generation. Bouldering is to Hinge what "long walks on the beach and Sunday roasts" are to the old-school dating section of the newspaper. I don't think it counts as a hobby anymore when literally everyone does it, bouldering should just be taken as a given. Sorry, rant over.
By the time we got to bouldering we were an hour into the video date and as enthusiastic and friendly as he was, I was fairly certain Will was not the one for me. It was at this point that I realised there I had forgotten to address one of my key concerns about video dating, how do you get out of there? We weren't in the pub so we couldn't be forced out at closing time, there was no last train home to be missed, he knew I had already eaten so I couldn't use that as a get out. Claiming poor internet connection then hanging up felt too obvious to even risk it and I couldn't message a family member to create a diversion without him being able to see me typing. I was trapped. It was true, during lockdown you have no legitimate reason to hang up. Side note: it also seems far less legitimate to excuse yourself from a video date for a pee break than it is from an actual date. Do you leave the video on? Do you hang up and call back? I continued to rack my brain for an exit strategy as Will's bottle of Rioja got lower and lower and he launched into a lengthy summarisation of the scientific study into a post-apocalyptic world with no humans that he was reading, It seemed a little close to the bone for mid-pandemic.
I started clock-watching and eventually, TWO HOURS into the call, we hit double figures. It was 10:00PM which, for a Sunday night, felt like a legitimate time to go to bed so I said I had an early start the next day and should really turn in for the night. We exchanged pleasantries about how the experience had not been as bad as we were expecting and that it would be nice to catch up again soon. Will's parting comment, although well-intentioned, confirmed my suspicions that he was not the one for me: "Well, I hope you head back down to London soon but in the meantime I have your number so we can send each other memes and stuff"..... Send each other memes and stuff? Is that a thing? Is this what everyone in the mid-20s is doing, along with bouldering?
True to his word, the following morning I awoke to a video of a dog standing in a swimming pool. As my Zooming skills suggested, maybe I am old beyond my years but memes are not a standalone form of communication I am used to. Maybe if we had met in real life things would have been different - Will was friendly, enthusiastic and chatty, but there was no spark. Plenty of technology but no electricity between us. If anything, it was a highly educational experience. I learnt that one should always walk into a situation with an exit strategy and that however watertight it looks, when thoroughly analysed, data can still be wrong.