The Sunday Telegraph - Sunday

Dating has been more difficult in 2020, but many people have risen to the challenge, writes Anna Moore

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For Tamara, 59, finding a partner has never been so challengin­g. Divorced three years ago after a long marriage, when she first felt able to pick herself up and dust herself down, she dabbled with apps and online dating but the scene frightened the life out of her.

“I was ghosted, people lead you on, their stories don’t add up,” she says. “In the end, I never actually met anyone – I was too worried about what was and wasn’t real.”

Instead, she signed up with the matchmakin­g agency Drawing Down the Moon. (“At least they check everything about their clients so you know that anyone you meet is who they says they are,” she says.) Then Covid – and lockdown – happened. “You’re not going to work any more, or dinner parties or lunches, all the normal avenues for meeting someone closed down,” says Tamara, who holds a senior role in the charity sector. “Now I really was dependent on any matches I was given.”

Her first match texted to say that he couldn’t Zoom for three weeks. “Three weeks? No one is that busy in lockdown!” she says. “At that stage, we were only allowed out for one hour of exercise!” When the virtual meeting finally happened, it was... awkward. “I got a glass of rosé and sat in the garden,” says Tamara. “He was very formal with a glass of water. We asked each other lots of questions and it felt like a business call – which I’d been doing a lot of recently. Would it have worked if we’d met face to face? It’s so difficult to tell without the little signals, the nuances, the physical presence – but by the end, I’d run out of stuff to say. I had no idea what we’d talk about if we Zoomed again.”

Her next match was more promising. By then, lockdown was lifting so they met in a pub garden. “It still felt a little bit surreal,” says Tamara. “You don’t do the peck-on-the-cheek hello. We had to keep a distance from each other for the first few dates. Finally, we had dinner in London and shared an Uber, wearing our masks. I had lipstick on, so it wasn’t ideal, although my mask was from Jigsaw and matched my dress, so that was something! He had a medical mask on. You can’t help feeling like you’re sitting in a car with a random surgeon.”

Dating is strange in these times, and trickier than ever – but for Tamara, it also feels more important, more urgent. “Lockdown put things into perspectiv­e,” she says. “Until then, I was busy, I had a huge group of friends, a job I love. A man was the icing on the cake – maybe someone who I could go on nice holidays with.

“When you’re not able to have a social life any more and you’re at home, on your own, it’s suddenly a bleak place to be. If we all have to lockdown in winter when the days end at 4pm, I can’t imagine how ghastly that would be alone. I’ve realised the importance of having someone to share things with at the end of each day.”

Fortunatel­y, the man she is now dating feels exactly the same way – in fact, he signed up with DDTM during lockdown. “It has definitely made us both re-evaluate,” says Tamara. “I think single people have realised they need to make more effort and get themselves out there while they can.”

Dating industry figures bear this out. Covid has made us far more focused on partnering up. Within two weeks of lockdown, the volume of messages sent on Tinder had jumped by 63 per cent. Eharmony has seen its app registrati­on rise by 85 per cent in the first half of 2020. At DDTM, membership had jumped by 40 per cent within a few weeks of lockdown beginning, and it currently stands 105 per cent higher than it had been at the beginning of March – with new clients aged between 23 and 86. While many industries are grappling with furlough and redundanci­es, DDTM is currently interviewi­ng for new staff to manage the uptick.

Gillian McCallum, CEO at DDTM, is not at all surprised. “As soon as lockdown was announced, I thought that this was going to be a huge opportunit­y for people to focus on dating and changing their lives,” she says. “Until then, so many people were living busy, fun-filled lives, working long hours, partying, restaurant­s, theatre, art galleries, seeing friends. You might swipe a bit in a spare moment, but it wasn’t really a serious search. Then Covid came, the only person you see is the guy delivering your groceries and you realise how alone you are – and that you need to fix it.”

Sally Baker, senior therapist at Working On The Body (workingont­hebody.com), is in agreement. “All the distractio­ns have been stripped back,” she says. “Lots of my single clients have found themselves back with their parents, sleeping in the single beds of their childhood rooms. Some have really struggled with the loneliness.”

Baker believes this determinat­ion to find a mate has also made us more discerning about how we go about it. “Lockdown gifted us time to think about what we want from life and from a partner, and most of us want authentic connection,” she says. “When you’ve lived through a pandemic, you’re less willing to fill your time with people who don’t care about you.

“Dating used to be seen as a numbers game, but the allure of the stranger is gone,” she continues. “I think dating will be less casual and more considered. People thinking of meeting up for a date will want to be sure there is real chemistry and a potential strong match before they bother.” Again, the behaviour on the dating apps backs this up, with many reporting a shift to what they call “slow dating”. Calls on Bumble’s video call facility have risen by 42 per cent since lockdown and last an average of 30 minutes. A third of Bumble users intend to stick with video calls as a “first stop” before actually meeting anyone face to face, no matter what social distancing rules are in the future.

Can meeting through a screen tell us much about one another? McCallum thinks it’s a good starting point. During lockdown, her team advised some clients on what to wear on their Zoom dates, and virtually toured their houses to help them find the perfect spot and the right lighting. They also suggested a variety of date nights, such as using dating cards from the School of Life (designed to spark insight, they comprise 52 questions cards, including “describe your first kiss” and “sketch the course of three previous relationsh­ips you’ve had”). Other matched couples tried drawing or painting portraits of one another, or reading each other the first line from a favourite novel to kick off conversati­on.

“Yes, it takes longer to get that connection on Zoom, but that’s not necessaril­y to the detriment,” says McCallum. “Charm and charisma are blunted, so you’re less likely to be blinded by it. All the ‘extra stuff ’ is stripped away and it’s very much about the two of you.”

Jo Hemmings, a behavioura­l psychologi­st and dating coach, also found that virtual dating held some advantages for her clients. “People were less inclined to make their minds up about each other after two minutes,” she says. “You know it will probably take longer to feel a connection, but you don’t need to go out of your way or even leave the house, so it feels easier to give dates a second and third chance.” There were challenges, though. “If you’ve been on Zoom for work, the last thing some people want at the end of the day is more Zoom,” says Hemmings, “and it can be quite intrusive. Dining together – watching one another eat on screen – is not a good look! Lots of my clients decided they were more relaxed speaking on the phone, lying on the sofa in their jimjams without having to worry about what they looked like or how messy the room was in the background.”

When it comes to progressin­g to the next stage – meeting in real life – Covid has brought a whole new criteria of compatibil­ity to the forefront. “It’s about your attitude to risk,” says Hemmings. “Are you willing to meet face to face? Do you want to stay two metres apart? Would you share a bottle of wine?” Already, these questions have led commentato­r Toby Young to launch an online dating site, Love in a Covid Climate”, as an offshoot of his campaignin­g blog, Lockdown Sceptics (which currently clocks up about 25,000 visitors a day).

“If you are someone who questions the wisdom of imprisonin­g an entire country in their homes, it’s difficult to go on a first date with a person who won’t venture into a pub,” explains Young. The site is now thriving. “Attractive female looking for unmasked male to enjoy lazy long last of the summer days,” reads one ad. “Male, 45, suffering from severe Hancockoph­obia,” reads another. In another post, someone has written, “Not ventured into a drinking den or eatery yet but will embark on such an adventure with the right guy, nonchalant­ly casting my face mask into the gutter.”

At DDTM, McCallum admits that for future matches, views around safety, rule-breaking and physical get-togethers will require careful negotiatio­n. “It’s a little bit like Brexit,” she says. “People are quite polarised.” Neverthele­ss, she’s confident that our urgent need for love and connection will win through. “Dating is apace and it will not stop,” she says.

“No one wants to go through lockdown alone again. Why would you? People are focused and committed in a way they just weren’t before, and relationsh­ips just keep on happening. The marriages that come out of this are going to be extraordin­ary.”

‘Single people have realised they need to make an effort and get out there while they can’

‘Many clients decided they were more relaxed on the phone, lying on the sofa in their jimjams’

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