Dating in 2021 seemed less about chemistry and more about contact tracing. You didn’t ask, “What are you into?” You asked, “Have you traveled internationally or had a dry cough in the last 14 days?” I met Sarah at a bar; which in 2021 felt like meeting someone on the moon. Bars were open, technically, but carried the emotional residue of all the times they hadn’t been I saw her across the room and, in an uncharacteristically bold moment, walked over and told her, flat-out, that she was absolutely gorgeous. The words left my mouth before I had time to consult my brain, but it got her smiling We talked for maybe three minutes. Long enough to cover names, apologize to her friends for interrupting shuffleboard, and ask about her outfit. Then she had to go Before she left, I got her number which, in pandemic dating, felt as rare and thrilling as finding Clorox wipes at the store We started texting. Lightly at first, then more often. She was funny, smart, and didn’t abuse exclamation marks. She suggested drinks. I agreed, joking I’d bring a notepad to review the bar; a joke I regretted instantly. Still, she laughed Then came The Text “Hey! One of my bosses is out sick today, and it might be Covid. We can definitely reschedule if you want!” She wasn’t trying to bail. Just being responsible. Which, in 2021, was the ultimate romantic flex I told her I appreciated the heads-up. We could wait and see. If her boss’s test came back negative, we were good to go. If not, we’d reschedule. I left it up to her, which felt right. In Covid, nothing said “I’m relationship material” like letting someone cancel plans in the name of flattening the curve All the tests, including Sarah’s, came back negative. We were in the clear I suggested Glass Lantern. The kind of bar that tries hard to seem effortless, with exposed brick and Edison bulbs. She was down to go. I pretended that I wasn’t thrilled I showed up at 8. She arrived 12 minutes later, apologizing like someone who’s been late to everything since birth. Her family would’ve been proud The date was good. Really good. We talked. We laughed. She teased me for ordering an old fashioned “like a dad on vacation.” We asked each other the 36 questions to fall in love from the NYT. We leaned into the awkwardness and somehow landed in a rhythm Later that night, I texted her to say I had a great time and asked her to let me know when she got home safe The date could’ve ended there. A mutual sense of optimism, a flicker of normalcy. But 2021 wasn’t built for clean endings The next day, I invited her over for dinner. I’d bought steaks for my brother and his fiancée, who bailed, apparently realizing they didn’t need to spend another evening with the only person they’d spent all of Covid with: me She called just as I was prepping garlic. Not texted. Called. And in 2021, that meant either romance or viral catastrophe “Hey... so they did another round of testing at work and... I actually tested positive this time.” She still felt fine. Totally caught off guard. I paused. Then said, “Only one date and you’re already gifting me things.” She laughed, which I took as a good sign I got tested. I was negative. She quarantined. We texted (a lot). There was something about navigating disappointment together that felt strangely intimate. Like, if we could survive a surprise virus scare after one date, maybe we could survive anything Eventually, her quarantine ended. We went on a second date. Then a third. And then... many more. Somewhere in the blur of mask mandates and canceled plans, we became something real Now, Sarah is my fiancée. We still laugh about that first week how we nearly canceled, dodged the initial bullet, and got hit by the second. But we showed up. We texted. We tested. We tried We never went back to Glass Lantern. Turns out, it wasn’t the bar that mattered, it was the girl who made fun of my drink order, laughed at my nervous jokes, and is now planning our wedding