I was tuning into a podcast yesterday where the therapist shared that distance enhances desire. Quite the revelation, right?
When COVID-19 first emerged, I felt grateful to have a partner I genuinely cared for to talk to. Both of us are divorced, share parenting responsibilities, and are doing our best to manage our households while ensuring our kids adapt to the new normal.
Having someone to confide in during my COVID bubble—who shared my views on avoiding crowds, wearing masks, and keeping our kids away from sleepovers—felt like a blessing. And the bonus? Our intimate life was thriving. After years of navigating the ups and downs of online dating, I finally realized I had settled down, eliminating the stress of either depleting my vibrator or trying to date through screens.
For months, he was the only person I interacted with (other than my kids). Our kid-free outings to the movies, restaurants, or friends’ houses came to a halt, and we got cozy with staying in. Initially, I didn’t mind, but soon I found myself ready to snap as he snored right next to me every night.
While cooking, I noticed he had a bizarre habit of slurping the canned vegetables simmering on the stove. Instead of just tasting them for warmth, he would stand over the pan and slurp the green beans—repeatedly!
When we took drives to escape the house, he blasted the sports channel so loudly that the entire neighborhood could hear. The heat was cranked up, making my eyelashes flutter, and the windows were down. Being in the car with him felt like sensory overload, leaving me needing solitude to recover.
He uses speakerphone for every call and diligently replays those silly videos his friends send him at least five times. While we both adore ice cream, his lip-smacking while enjoying a cone has become an annoyance. He insists on savoring every bite, smacking his lips with each one.
I’m certainly not blameless—I take forever in the bathroom, overspend on shoes, and have my pillows positioned just so on the couch and bed. My smoothie obsession is loud, and I prefer to go to bed early while he’s a night owl. Recently, I’ve also been taking longer to reach orgasm.
I recognize that I probably irritate him just as much. Since March, the quirks that used to be charming or went unnoticed have turned into irritants, all because he’s my constant companion during this pandemic. He’s my safe haven, the person I turn to when I’m feeling down, joyful, or in need of guidance. With our usual buffers—friends, family, movie nights—out of the picture, I often find myself on the verge of a meltdown.
There’s no sneaking off to spin class, and he can’t visit his friends who usually host game nights due to their elderly parents living with them.
I know we’re not the only couple navigating the chaos of COVID. We both work from home, set our schedules, and even began working out together when gyms closed, cooking every meal as a team. While we’re comfortable and in love, I can’t help but feel he’s pushing my buttons.
The lack of distance means a decrease in desire, and we could certainly use some spark. Just the other night, the volume on the television increased a few notches, and I felt like I might lose it.
For all the couples out there tired of seeing their partner’s face, hearing their breath, and dealing with yet another bathroom incident, I want to say: we’re in this together. But, honestly, we’re not. Neither of us can make this easier for the other, aside from listening to each other vent.
However, we are in this with our partners. And truthfully, I’ll endure the slurping, snoring, and everything else that drives me to the brink because I believe that if you can survive COVID with someone, you can handle anything. And when life returns to normal and we go our separate ways more often, I suspect I’ll miss him dearly.