RONA, a short story anthology about the global COVID-19 pandemic

Fire Emoji

Social distancing had left Louise hornier than she had ever been. She was on fire at dating apps. Pretty, slim, big-bosomed, she'd get a kick out of the constant matching whenever her hand swiped right. She felt God-like.

When she matched Luke, she was really turned on. He was beautiful, had a lovely Weimaraner and a well-defined 6-pack. It was by far the hottest she had ever seen on Bumble.

Like it had been with everyone, the texting soon became dirty, and she was very excited about the photo he sent: his big sturdy dick held in his hand. She sent back a video touching herself.

Powered by dick pics and vulva videos, so the early days of lockdown passed.

But, understandably, with the number of deaths creeping by, the libido receded as days, weeks and months went by. Luke was just a long-gone memory in Louise's virtual sex Rolodex. Searching for that high she couldn't feel anymore - not in real life, not on dating apps - she started diversifying. There was no left swipe. She would take in anyone and freestyle. With some she would try the same she did when she started out in the app. With others she would be super aggressive; nudes before even saying "hi". Or super prude. Some she would just act like an asshole, call names, tease and unmatch right after. For a while, those change-ups gave her fire; but they would all be put out with time.

One day she woke up and there was an unexpected match. A girl. Named Bella, she was probably shown to Louise because of one of the many bugs of Tinder, and Louise didn't even realize she was matching a girl due to her constant and careless right swipes. But it didn't matter: that felt different; that gave her fire. Could she consider herself a lesbian from now on? If there was no contact, she thought, it didn't make her officially a lesbian. It was just freeing. And being free, in a world where she had been locked in for almost a year, was all she wanted and needed.

They wrote to each other for a long time, they sent nudes, they facetimed, they touched themselves together.

After a while, Bella started brushing Louise off, and the fire between them was also extinguished.

Louise, then, created a male profile so she could match other girls. Could she have created a female profile and look for lesbians? Yes. But she wanted a bigger pool of humans to draw from.

With her daughter's phone number, she signed on to Bumble. It was easy creating the catfish; she had tons of gigabytes worth of pictures, videos and whatnots sent by the countless matches she had had in the 18 months she had entered the dating app scene, back in March 2020; the first month of lockdown.

Getting the girls was even easier than the boys. She knew what they wanted. She knew they were as desperate as she was.

But when her ex-husband got the virus and later died, a huge snapback into reality occurred. None of what she was doing on the apps made any sense. She felt dirty, perverted, crazy. She got alert, because her daughter needed her more than ever, because the horror was real, because the virus was no joke. But also depressed. She didn't know what to do with all that was inside her. In the middle of such a horrible time, pleasure was all she was seeking; was that so wrong of her?

One day, she woke up and there was an email from Tinder, saying someone had tried to log in to her account. When she opened the app, she saw a message from Luke.

They talked, she filled him in regarding her life, he did the same. No dick pics. No vulva videos. Just the exact words she needed to hear. The exact person she needed to talk to.

Days, weeks, months went by while they talked. Good news was shared - they found a vaccine! Fears were discussed - will it be available for people without healthcare like us? A real bond was formed. Not out of a need, but out of a mutual want.

The virus was finally expelled from society. Life could go back to normal. Louise sent a message to Luke asking him to meet with her in person. He said yes. She shaved her legs, put on a brand new Fenty lingerie she ordered online. Perfume.

But he never came.

And there was no way he could, after all, Luke was on Bumble; not Tinder. Luke's Tinder profile was Louise's creation. She didn't know, but Luke had long died from Coronavirus, after breaking quarantine for a quickie. Delirious with all the chaos around her, she had been talking with herself all that time.