March 21st.

7:09am: I woke up and texted my girlfriend good morning, with a lascivious comment. She replied in turn.

10:12am: I asked her if I could come over. She said yes. I went to ask my parents about it. It was anticipated that the mayor was going to enact a shelter-in-place order soon.

"They're really going that far because of COVID-19?" she said. I had always been pessimistic about the pandemic. Time would vindicate me.

10:44am: "Maybe the universe is testing me right at the beginning of my first relationship, just to make sure I've got the guts for it," I said to her. She went to shower, I waxed poetic about how the challenge would make us stronger, how I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, and I wasn't going to let a virus get in the way of that.

We had been together a week shy of two months. We wouldn't make it to six.

1:13pm: She and her dad picked me up so I wouldn't have to bike in 84 degree weather again. We watched some show, then cuddled in her bed and watched TikToks on her phone.

11:00pm: I went home. I never saw her in person again until after we broke up.