Last week I had my first conversation with a human being for 5 weeks that was not socially distanced. I can't tell you how good it felt. Talking to someone without that barrier in the way felt a bit like sex without a condom - a hell of a lot better than with one. I feel nervous about revealing that I did this because, for many people, it's not a socially or morally acceptable thing to do. But I'm not here to argue a viewpoint. I'm just here to tell you how it is for me.
Charmion is my lockdown buddy (a bit like a birthing partner, I imagine). She's one of my closest friends and lives 4 minutes walk away. We both live alone. And at the start of all this, we said we'd see one another through it. And that's what we've done. We call each other daily - often more than once a day. We message each other in between. She queues at the supermarket and I queue at the greengrocers. Then we swap shopping (when she doesn't give mine away to the homeless man outside Tescos). She passes my flat on her end of day walk so that we can have a socially distanced conversation. We could have made the decision to move in together when lockdown started so that we'd legally be "one household". But we didn't.
I'd been meticulous in staying 2 metres away from everyone. To the point where I'd find myself springing into the road without a thought of getting myself killed by a car rather than breathe near another human being. If I'm being entirely honest with myself, 90% of my adherence to the 2-metre rule is because I've feared illness for myself. I've feared the idea of developing breathing problems. I've feared that there won't be a hospital bed for me. And I've worried about what people will think of me if I break the rules. About being judged by friends, and found wanting. These are the reasons I've been obeying the advice to "stay home". Not because I want to "protect our NHS". Fear for myself is why I've stayed at least 2 metres distant from Charmion...
...until last Friday. After 5 weeks of lockdown, fear has been eclipsed by something else. It's not exactly loneliness - I see people all the time on Zoom. I see Charmion herself from 2 metres away. And I'm pretty happy being on my own a lot of the time. It's more to do with a lack of emotional intimacy. Which you just don't get from a distance. It started with us having a socially distanced glass of wine together on her patio. I had thought long and hard about going. Should I take my own glass? Should I be doing it at all? What if her neighbours reported us? But I went. Wine turned into dinner. Fish fingers, baked beans and chips. It felt like the best meal I'd ever had. There was proper conversation. Proper sharing. At the end of the night we hugged and declared an end to social distancing between the two of us. From now on, we'd be acting as one household but living in two different houses.
A barrier had been removed. You couldn't see it. But it was there. Because that gap distances us from our loved ones, not just physically, and not just socially, but emotionally. With social distancing, people's body language seems to be saying "You're unclean. I don't want to be near you. I don't trust you." And, although the logical part of my brain knows that it's nothing personal, instinctively I feel rejected, distrusted, unwanted. Whereas when someone touches me on the arm, I feel accepted. When someone high fives me, I feel we're celebrating together. When someone hugs me, I feel loved. I think many of will find it scary getting back to doing these things with people. And the longer the distancing goes on, the harder it will be. I know that I will fear getting back on public transport. Being in a pub. And even getting close to people I know and love.
On the Saturday, Charmion and I met again. We sat facing one another on a park bench. Eating croissants she'd bought from the local bakery. Drinking coffee I'd bought from the local coffee shop. Our normal friendship resumed.