New Relationships Quarantined During Coronavirus

There is an unwritten rule stating that you are legally obligated to dislike your best friend’s boyfriend. Now try being quarantined in a 4’x4’ (ish) apartment during a global pandemic…as the third wheel. Behold, my harrowing tale.


The first time Chris* and I met was during an 8 a.m. class our sophomore year of undergrad. The scent of Four Loko coming from both of our coffee cups solidified the friendship that would evolve into a decade of utter chaos.

We’ve since moved to New York City together and were, up until recently, living out our best single lives. But then, I was faced with my worst fear: He finally Swiped Right enough times to meet someone. Being a bitter best friend and roomie, secretly rooting for the demise of a new relationship is def a common experience. But enter the Corona-Zombie-Apocalypse we’re in now and, well, there’s a whole new set of challenges.

When things started getting like, bad bad in New York City, Chris decided to move his situationship into our microwaveable-dinner-box of an apartment after only a few dates. Was the other part-owner of the apartment consulted, you ask? Why no, I was not. And now, only two weeks into their courtship, I’m ready to gauge my eyes out.

Now, I don’t know a single person who hasn’t suffered through the Boyfriend-in-Law Meet and Greet, but I’m currently in the midst of that insufferable loop every time I wake up and see him—and we’re on day 35, people.

Not only am I obligated to downplay Chris’ prior single behavior so he seems like an actual angel, but I have to downplay my own favorite stories that involve him (as to not reflect poorly on a friend that you know has copulated in a McDonald’s restroom). Every time we so much as play a drinking game, I have to pretend like Chris wasn’t involved in events he certainly took part in—and do you know how shit my poker face is?

And although I find Chris’ new BF charming, he is so private. He would be horrified to know this is a home where Chris and I would habitually clear each other’s nude pictures before sending them off to our respective Tinder matches. Having to pretend like you own more cardigans than lingerie is exhausting!

Given the fact that we’re not sure how long we’ll be in this sitch, Chris’ boyfriend took it upon himself to do some “unpacking”…by which I mean he accidentally shoved all of his sex toys in my “sock drawer” for “safekeeping” not realizing it was my storage space. And well, folks, now it seems we’ve inadvertently combined our toy stash. You just have to laugh because God knows I’m not going to be the one to tell him.

Another fun element: With any couple (let alone a couple that has dated for what seems like less time than it takes to watch The Irishman), there are fights. On our 26th day of sheltering-in-place, the worst argument resulted in a 6-day silent treatment where neither of them talked to each other, and therefore neglected to talk to me, either. Do you know how weird it is to eat Cheerios in dead ass silence? W-E-I-R-D.

I finally got to the bottom of the fight and, I shit you not, it was because one of them found baby names on the other one’s browser history. And now I have 17 new grey hairs I have to find a way to box dye.

But the worst part of this all is the happy couple sex I bear witness to. Before, hearing the muffled sound effects of a sloppy one night stand (even if it woke me up and made me tired for work the next day) was a forgivable offense. We were a wild, single duo! Things happen!

But nothing evokes my gag reflex more than hearing Chris have sex when I simply cannot. The thin walls are a nagging reminder of my solitude during this crisis, when the only sound coming from my room is the buzz of what sounds like an electric toothbrush though all hours of the night.

I mean, isn’t it bad enough that I have to rot in my room, alone, on Zoom dates with men who ask if I’ve ever seen The Office (as though thinking it’s funny makes them interesting) or condescendingly tell me their job is “a bit too hard to explain”? I’m not sure if I can continue to hear the reminder of my forced celibacy, mmkay?

For now, I guess I will have to find a way to stay positive amid my bitter singleness. I mean, some people have it worse than me during this COVID-19 pandemic, and for that, I can excuse the fact that Chris’ boyfriend doesn’t know what it means to wash a dish.

But on behalf of all single, lonely roommates, should the world ever be faced with another global health pandemic like this one, let’s make sure that we’re only letting serious S.O.s quarantine with us, alright?


Epilogue: Chris’ boyfriend is actually lovely, but this does not change my feelings that all couples are boring and ruin my fun. Bye!


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