The pandemic fueled lasting love for this Minnesota couple

They connected right before the pandemic hit, in those last few days when Corona was just the name of a beer.

In February 2020, Samantha Maroney and a gal pal were on a night out in the North Loop when they bumped into Tyson Fulton, a college buddy of Maroney's friend.

"He was with his siblings, so I met half his family within 30 minutes of meeting him," said Maroney. "Later that night, we danced and wound up talking until 5 in the morning."

While they felt an initial attraction, the pandemic pushed them into making a decision about a relationship that had barely begun.

"The world started to close down when we were getting to know each other," said Maroney. "All of a sudden we were in panic mode, wondering how to survive. I thought, 'If the world is caving in, I'd like some company.' "

Maroney's lease was up, so she and Fulton "decided to temporarily do this thing together," he said of moving in together as the COVID-19 lockdowns descended. "Then the timeline kept expanding."

Everyone has a pandemic story — of confusion and stress, loss and heartache, isolation or even an odd sense of freedom. But for some people, that story is a love story.

The concept of "foxhole friendships" forged amid the hardship and danger of battle have long been acknowledged for their emotional power. Couples who found each other and huddled together in the uncertainty of a global public health crisis of may experience a similar feeling, said Kyle Zrenchik, couples therapist and clinical director at All In Therapy Clinic in Edina and Minnetonka.

"In times of chaos, there are always stories of great passion. It speaks to how much people crave pair bonds," he said. "Our species would not have survived if people had given up intimacy during periods of war or great strife."

And the COVID-19 pandemic, a time of strife for many, "affected how people dated and fell in love," said Ashley Thompson, a psychology professor at the University of Minnesota Duluth who researches romantic relationships and sexuality.

Thompson and other social scientists, psychologists and therapists around the world are studying COVID couples to determine how courtships that unfolded against the backdrop of a pandemic will fare.

"We'll be interested to see if relationships initiated in this time are stronger or if we'll see spikes in breakups as we return to normal," Thompson said.

Zrenchik speculates that surviving difficult challenges together will nurture the spark and enhance the emotional attachment between some pandemic lovers. But he cautions that connecting under such unprecedented circumstances can have complex ramifications.

"It can feel very intense and romantic, but it can create co-dependency. Are these two people together because they fell in love or are they together because they were scared and needed a warm body to cling to?" he said. "If they set up a relationship that needs drama to function, it's going to be exhausting."

Security and stress

Maroney and Fulton had to address both practical and profound questions far earlier than they would have if they had met at any other time.

Instead of the early courtship decisions about where to eat, whose friends to double date with or what music to listen to, they faced a real-life compatibility test in the close quarters of what Maroney called her "cute little 'Sex and the City' studio apartment" in the West End of St. Louis Park.

"We had problems to solve in that tiny space. We didn't have those surface conversations, we had to go deep," Fulton said. "I was able to open up and be vulnerable right away. She brought that out in me."

During the lockdowns, they filled their hours teaching themselves how to make fresh pasta, sampling takeout meals and watching reality television. But they also had to deal with mutual career crises. Maroney, a sales consultant for the Bavaria Downs venue in Chaska, and Fulton, a charter school hockey coach and a private hockey instructor, both saw their hours and incomes slashed dramatically.

"We had to talk about money while our bank accounts ticked down," Maroney said. "We had to figure out how to do our work differently. I started doing virtual tours and practiced my presentation with him. Before he started Zooming one-on-one training with his kids in their garages, he tried it out on me."

Dating in reverse

While love is supposedly blind, that particular form of myopia presented a risk for some people who fell for each other as the virus spread.

"They couldn't see each other in social settings or be introduced to family and friends for their feedback," said Denys Crea, a matchmaker and online dating coach with the Pairings Group. "How does that person treat a waiter or act on a trip if the reservation goes wrong? When you can't observe that, you miss something,"

For months, stay-at-home orders blocked singles from connecting IRL. Continued caution about venturing outside of your personal bubble prevented many would-be daters from meeting face-to-face.

That revved up online dating. In just one quarter in 2020, the Match Group noted an increase of about a million subscribers to the dozens of dating sites it owns.

"When people met online, they took it slow. They spent a lot of time getting to know each other instead of meeting right away. It was dating in reverse," said Crea. "They were looking intentionally instead of just swiping to the next."

The U's Thompson speculates that couples who meet online now might behave differently because of the experiences of the past two years.

"The dating apps came up with advancements in video chatting that let people better engage virtually," she said. "It's a hassle, but we saw people investing more time to get to know each other on a deeper basis. The emphasis was off looks and more on personality. That's a benefit that could stick."

A strong foundation

Both Thompson and Crea predict a huge social surge this spring and summer as singles who have been starved of social connections are able to dive back into the dating pool.

But Maroney and Fulton are no longer looking.

"We're good together. We have that foundation after what we've been through. I can't picture my life without him," said Maroney.

Now sharing an apartment in Minnetonka, the couple, both 30, have made a commitment to one another and are discussing making it legal.

"I compare her to a best friend. You argue but you always have each other's backs," said Fulton. "We bring out the best in each other. Being together in such a weird time was scary but it showed us what's important."