We set the timer on for thirty minutes. When we woke up, we didn’t realise that those thirty minutes where we were completely unaware of the world around us, would define the next seven months of our relationship. It was supposed to end when the ski season ended, but a pandemic that took over the world decided that it wasn’t the right time yet. The moment we woke up we found out that we were leaving on a plane to come back home within twenty-four hours. Except, I wasn’t going back with him. I was staying in France with my family, with no idea of when I would go back. Despite the distance and uncertainty, we didn’t want something out of our control deciding our end date. So for the next four months it was the three of us. Me, him, and my phone.
I have never been so attached to my phone as if it was another limb. It was constant phone calls, Netflix nights, Wordfinder, virtual workouts/yoga, and from time to time, a little sexy time to keep things interesting. After so many ups and downs during the first couple of months we realized that being completely open and honest was the only way we wouldn’t feel insecure being so far apart. The evolutionary stages in a relationship that people usually go through in six months to a year we had to establish in the first three months of our relationship. It was terrifying, not exciting. I had to learn to trust someone with my feelings, thoughts, and expectations through a cell service without being able to read his body language. You don’t realise how much you depend on the presence of someone else until they are completely absent.
After four months I finally came back and started planning when we would see each other again. I had been thinking about seeing him again for what felt like a lifetime, that I hadn’t taken into account how nervous I would be. Would he still fancy me? Would I still fancy him? Would we have things to talk about? What if our relationship had just been a hobby to keep ourselves distracted during lockdown? What if we had burst the bubble when we left our ski season? What if there were awkward silences? Should I kiss him? Or hug him? Both? Neither? All of these questions plus a hundred others went through my head as the date approached. June 14th came, and I had so many butterflies in my stomach I was so close to cancelling the whole thing and leaving what had been in the past. Thank God I didn’t. Everything we had felt for each other when we were first getting to know each other was still there and in a way was heightened by the amount of talking we had been restricted to. Oh, and the sex, yeah that was no disappointment either.
We were determined that we would spend an amazing summer together and then cut ties once university came. We saw each other whenever we could, planned our weekends around maximizing our time together, and even went to Santorini. Then university came, and I realised that because my degree was basically all online, I wouldn’t be as preoccupied. He had just got a job three hours away so that seemed like an easy train ride. Honestly, after so many months apart, I don’t think either of us were ready to say goodbye just yet. So we didn’t. We planned to see each other a week after I had settled in. My Fair Lady Rona had other plans. In my first week I was put into isolation and realized that we wouldn’t be seeing each other for another month. So for now, it’s back to Netflix nights, study sessions, and random phone calls when one of us is free.
Even though it’s only been a month, it’s brought back memories from being apart during lockdown. Some good and some bad. In no way has it been an easy ride and at the end of the day no one knows what’s going to happen. This pandemic has affected all types of relationships: Established, new, an awkward mix, and everything in between. We’ve been told to stay away from our significant others but like everything, I’ve found that the more we’re forced to do something the less likely we are to comply, and Lovely Lady Rona is no exception.
Featured Image by Thought Catolog on Unsplash