I want to preface this by saying that I fully appreciate the gravity of the situation but I also feel it’s important to find a lighter side of this pandemic because we all need some levity. These are the thoughts I’ve had over the course of my self-isolation:

Flashbacks and Ass Cracks

This is like grade 7, we all have a curfew, can’t leave without permission and have pen-pals we may never see again. Also, when we ask the government how long we are grounded they say it all depends on our attitudes and if we do what they say.

If I could go back in time it would be to the last bridal shower I attended. I would save all of the remnants of the toilet paper dresses we threw out as if they weren’t made from the very lifeblood of 2020. We were so young and naïve.

Speaking of fashion, not being able to eat from self-isolation sadness forced weight loss and my jeans no longer fit. Living in fear of the Coronavirus stole my ass. The pandemic curve isn’t the only one getting flatter the longer I sit in this house. On the plus side, I look really hot from six feet away.

Pandemic Dating Is Really Fucking Weird

Being single during a pandemic means picking a boyfriend is like choosing between unpaid phone sex operator internships. That said, I’m highly desirable as a lacrosse mom. I’m killing it because they all figure I’ve got the best snacks.

If you’re online dating in your mid-thirties,  all the men you meet are named Kyle or Matt, they all want to go for a hike, and they are all bragging on their Costco cards. It’s like they think they can single-handedly rebuild the species by impressing prospective mates with how many rolls of toilet paper they can procure in a single outing. I’m not going to lie, I would totally accept them in bouquet format.

Worse still, when you are being wooed by a gentleman now, he is not going to hold the door open for you. It’s not that chivalry is dead, it’s just that you’re literally not going anywhere anytime soon. Also, your date is by video chat. Yes, REALLY.

Lucky for me, my mild agoraphobia looks like a rational response to a global pandemic and the extent to which I rarely leave my house is no longer terrifying to prospective suitors. It’s like crazy camouflage! I’m never going to be a trophy wife, but at the end of this I might end up a Pandemic Participation Ribbon Princess.

If you’re anything like me, just a single mom trying to make it through the Coronapocalype with your sanity intact, clinging to the hope of a normal relationship that one day doesn’t involve panting into the phone which is somehow always dying even though you’re literally always home, I have nine words of solidarity for you:

May the Lysol wipes be ever in your pantry!

Author

Alison Tedford is a hot mess mom, daily writer of funny and serious shit, cookie arsonist and hogger of the bed. She's Canadian, but not sorry at all.

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