Kinda Seeking Someone for the End of the World?

A semi-romanticized account of 201 days of many many many swipes, fewer dates, and plentiful gaffes.

I find myself clinging to the people I love, to the normalcy of their company. I fight with them over what to eat and watch and wear and whether it’s safe, even just a little, to go to the gym again. I see them everyday — in person or on screen — ravenous for the minutes that turn into hours, the summer turning into fall.

I find myself greedy and rushing because everything seems so precarious. It’s only a matter of time until this life is unrecognizable from the one I lived before it. First dates over video. Second dates in parks. Third dates less than 24 hours later, on bridges in the dark. I don’t savor his smell or the sound of his voice — I barely know it…know him. I only remember his kiss…the forbidden fruit. A devouring of flesh, the sweetness of a ripe peach warmed by the sun, the juice slipping through my fingers…gone is the summer, and the peach, and sweetness. Now I wash the sticky residue down the drain, balling the pit in my hand, like the one in my stomach, the fear of letting go. So we linger — at the car, then through the window, we kiss some more. An action that says “you’re worth the risk.” But am I worth the fall? Two strangers so ill fit. but their weird and their want are magnetic. The inevitable burnout of a budding romance coming quickly.

“Why hasn’t he texted me?”

“Should I text him?”

No, girl, you’re strong and independent. You don’t need anybody.

“Look if you don’t want to talk anymore, just tell me”

“No, it’s not that, I swear. I’m all over the place, huh?”

How does he deal with stress? Maybe the world hasn’t stopped for him. He owes me nothing, but he can take everything.

“You’re cute.”

You’re chaos.

Lots of conversations with lots of people.

“Come over. Let’s watch a movie. We can make out.”

“Swipe left if you think a mask will save you.”

Some wolves in sheep’s clothing, some racists in full regalia. Gone is the sincerity of pursuing someone despite options and plans, the coy game of calculated misdirection — a perceived scarcity is now abundance. And that abundance is stifling, because all we crave is companionship, not for the long term, just for the end. This is the end.

Is this the end?

I’m not ready for this to end.

And if it doesn’t?

Then what are we?