Pandemic a litmus test for romantic relationships

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 06/02/2021 (1997 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Love, even when the world is falling apart, seems to find a way.

Ahead of Valentine’s Day, the Free Press reached out to a handful of Winnipeggers to find out how their relationships have changed, grown and stayed the course during a global health crisis.

For many, the isolation of the coronavirus pandemic has been both a gentle teacher and an unrelenting master. It has also been a chance to let go of expectations, practise self-love and celebrate each other — holiday or not.

 

Meghan Malcolm and Alice Charles

Relationship status: Dating, together one year

When the future became muddled last March, the present fell into sharp relief for Meghan Malcolm and Alice Charles.

“The pandemic actually brought a lot of clarity,” Malcolm says. “We’re a couple that gets a lot of outside perspectives just because of our gender or the colour of our skin. And so it was actually really nice to have nobody watching for a little while.”

Malcolm is white and Charles is Black. Moving through the world as a queer, biracial couple has come with a lot of unsolicited questions and comments from strangers. Lockdown provided a new sense of privacy and a chance to focus solely on each other for the first time.

“More than ever, we have a secure relationship,” Charles says. “I’m not sure if the pandemic sped it up to that point or it was just without the extra noise, but that’s where we landed.”

The 29-year-olds first met while dancing at Club 200, a downtown gay bar — “A romantic queer love story,” jokes Charles. Friendship eventually blossomed into a committed relationship and last fall they moved in together.

Malcolm is divorced and shares custody of her kids, aged two and five, with her ex-husband. Shuttling the kids between households gives welcome structure to the week and a glimpse of how much life has changed over the last year. Previously, a night off from parental duties would include dinner, cocktails and dancing.

“Now it’s like, ‘Hey, do you want to do a puzzle and watch a show?’’ Malcolm says. “Acknowledging that that’s all we have the energy for right now… and taking the pressure off has been really helpful.”

“Now it’s like, ‘Hey, do you want to do a puzzle and watch a show?’ Acknowledging that that’s all we have the energy for right now… and taking the pressure off has been really helpful.” – Meghan Malcolm

That said, survival mode has been sprinkled with plenty of silliness, like living room dance parties and jumping out of closets.

“We will try and scare the crap out of each other,” Charles says. “Just because it’s fun; it makes everybody laugh.”

Cohabitation has required a new set of boundaries. Charles owns a cheerleading academy and is studying psychology, while Malcolm works at a non-profit and is the founder of Willow Press, an online hub for fantasy storytelling. Both are working from home at the moment; sharing the same space all day, every day can be challenging.

“I’m a very solitary person,” Malcolm says. “There’s no natural breaks and I’ve had to be able to just communicate and not feel rude for saying, ‘We just put the kids to bed, can you not talk to me or touch me for, like, a solid hour?’”

“Which honestly takes away a lot of the pressure and guesswork,” adds Charles. “We’ve had really good communication and now it’s reached superhero-level.”

Recently, the couple started hosting Q&As about their relationship on Instagram. The exercise has helped stave off boredom and opened the door for honest conversations about love and expectations amid the pandemic.

“I think relatability and representation is very important,” Charles says. “Maybe there’s somebody that can relate to us, and then also feel comfortable enough to ask for what they want.”

 

 

Dave and Roberta Landreth

Relationship status: Married, together 11 years

The Landreths were living in a bubble long before it was required by public health.

Dave and Roberta welcomed their first child, Finlay, into the world last January and took three months off work to focus on their new family unit — he is one-half of roots band the Bros. Landreth and she is a sought-after graphic designer. They were preparing, reluctantly, for a return to real life when the pandemic arrived.

“The timing of it all actually allowed us to just… extend our parental leave, kind of indefinitely,” Dave says. “It’s been our silver lining for sure.”

Dave, 35, and Roberta, 34, went on their first date in high school — an “epic” night of Smarties, go-karts, coffee at Second Cup on Osborne Street and Christmas lights on Wellington Crescent — but didn’t become a couple until a decade later (other suitors kept jumping the queue). A random Facebook message and a knitted Lenny Kravitz-style hat sealed the deal in 2010.

“I went thr ough all his pictures and he had this slouchy hat on,” Roberta says. “I was like, ‘I think I could date this guy; I like that hat.’”

Their relationship over the last 10 years has been dictated by career aspirations and a heavy touring schedule.

“Before this, the longest we’ve been together is like three months,” Roberta says.

“It’s been really great for us to see how we co-exist and how we problem-solve,” Dave adds.

The layout of their home, which allows for separate workspaces, and a set daily routine has been the winning combination. Dave watches Fin in the morning and Roberta takes over in the afternoon, allowing both parents to pursue their careers in equal measure.

“We got to both be equally primary caregivers, which has been really, really healthy for our relationship,” Roberta says.

“We’ve been really deliberate about making sure that it’s fair,” Dave says. “In this time, where everything is really amplified… and nothing is normal, if you have any little friction spots, resentment can really build and sort of get out of hand.”

They’ve also been deliberate about carving out couple time. While weeknights are filled with work, dinner and Zoom calls with friends and family, Saturdays are reserved for date nights — which have involved everything from television to formalwear.

“We’ve had a handful of date nights where we get dolled up, eat dinner together and play chess,” Dave says. They jumped on the chess train after watching Netflix show The Queen’s Gambit, about a female chess prodigy.

“I sometimes don’t look in the mirror all day,” Roberta says. “I got the heart flutters and had a glass of wine while I got ready… and I got really excited when I saw (Dave in his) suit.”

Parenthood, and the bubble they’ve been living in for the last year, has been both transformational and affirming.

“It just makes you love your partner in a whole different way,” Dave says. “Overnight, our favourite thing in the entire world suddenly aligned… that really brings you together in a cool way, even despite how tough it can be sometimes.”

 

 

Cloe Welchinski

Relationship status: Newly single

Cloe Welchinski is spending this Valentine’s Day celebrating singledom.

The 29-year-old proprietor of Crumb Queen, an online bake shop specializing in sourdough bread and cruller donuts, has teamed up with a group of friends to offer a Valentine’s giveaway with a special catch: entrants must be single to win.

“I separated from my husband in August, so I’m a newly single person,” Welchinski says. “And I’ve noticed, especially with the pandemic, there’s so many (businesses) doing dinners for two.”

She got a kick out of subverting the annual holiday, which largely caters to couples. “I thought it was really funny, but I had to message a few people to make sure that it (wasn’t) just like a weird, lonely idea.”

While she couldn’t care less about Valentine’s Day, other holidays have been difficult to navigate as a single person during the pandemic.

“It’s been ups and downs. Christmas was honestly really hard,” Welchinski says. “It doesn’t matter how stupid a holiday is… I think anybody who is single can have a hard time during these holidays, especially now that we all have to stay separated.”

After going through New Year’s Eve and her birthday, she’s gotten used to solo celebrations. A strong support network and long FaceTime calls with friends and family — as well as the constant companionship of her cat, Walter, a stern-faced ball of fluffy white fur — has helped her feel less alone.

 

Baking is a hobby-turned-career for Welchinski, who has worked in a number of prominent bakeries in the city. The process has been particularly fulfilling over the last six months.

“I was doing it on every day off because I just enjoy it,” she says. “And especially bread — I think that’s why bread took off so much in the first wave… it’s a really relaxing and soothing activity.”

Launching her own business has been a positive distraction; watching it succeed has been hugely gratifying.

“I’ve always wanted to have my own thing. And it feels really good to be able to do it while being alone with nobody’s input.”

The isolation of the pandemic has been undeniably hard, but the time alone has given her a chance to focus on herself for the first time in more than a decade.

“I’ve been in a relationship since I was 16, from boyfriend to boyfriend,” she says. “Because everybody has to stay home, there’s no FOMO (fear of missing out). I think that if everything was normal and I was going through this separation, anytime I didn’t have plans I would probably be feeling more bummed out.

“I’m just left here to actually process and think about this whole situation and move on from it faster.”

 

 

Barbara and Clarence Nepinak

Relationship status: Married, together 51 years

“Nothing,” Clarence Nepinak says when asked what has been the most challenging part of being stuck at home during code red. “We’ve been retired for over 10 years, so it’s been just her and I looking after each other.”

Clarence, 71, and his wife Barbara, 69, met as teenagers going to dances at the Indian and Métis Friendship Centre on Princess Street. Barbara grew up in a family of nine girls and anytime a sibling went on a date, one or two sisters always tagged along.

“I think it was a safety factor for us in those times; we all supported each other,” she says. “When Clarence and I first started dating… we would make a plan and there would be a whole bunch of us walking to the friendship centre.”

They’ve been married more than half a century and have spent much of the last decade of retirement working together as advisors and Ojibway educators. Barbara is the household schedule-keeper and has been struggling with an empty day planner.

“Our day-to-day schedule has been really affected. There were days when we used to have, like, five or six events in one day,” she says. “The novelty was watching TV for the first two weeks and then, after that, it was a real challenge.”

To keep busy, Barbara has found purpose in cleaning and getting rid of things around the house.

“Our day-to-day schedule has been really affected. There were days when we used to have, like, five or six events in one day. The novelty was watching TV for the first two weeks and then, after that, it was a real challenge.” – Barbara Nepinak

“And I’ve been watching her,” Clarence says with a hearty chuckle.

While their relationship remains solid, their connection with the wider community has been upended. They’ve missed countless ceremonies and feasts, and have had to learn how to use Zoom in order to share stories and teachings with others.

“The whole concept of sharing our oral knowledge is that you’re making eye contact with people face-to-face,” Barbara says.

The couple has four daughters and three grandchildren. It’s a tightly knit family built on a foundation of honesty, trust, respect and laughter.

“That’s part of our life — it’s ingrained in the way we live and the way we talk and the way we treat each other,” Barbara says. “You make a commitment to your partner and yeah, sometimes I get pissed off, but I still respect him. And we have to live by that and carry on those teachings and those traditions, because if you don’t have that in your family… what do you have?”

Barbara and Clarence are members of Pine Creek First Nation and recipients of the Order of Manitoba for their work preserving Indigenous culture and languages. Their standing in the community as Elders and long, happy marriage has turned the pair into relationship counsellors.

“Many couples have come to us to give them guidance,” Barbara says. “People get so impatient and they want a quick fix… they don’t think about their partner and it’s really sad to see, because a lot of marriages can be saved. It’s just a question of sitting together and having a discussion.”

 

eva.wasney@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter: @evawasney