Are you wearing a mask, or did your eyes just become this dangerously charming?
We’re supposed to avoid close contact, but I’d make an exception for your smile.
You must be an antibody, because you’ve got my defenses completely disarmed.
Are you quarantine? Because I could happily spend fourteen days alone with you.
I tested negative for everything except an undeniable attraction to you.
Is this a socially distanced pickup line, or did I just cross the line?
You’re the only exposure notification I’d be excited to receive.
Are you hand sanitizer? Because you make my palms sweaty in the best possible way.
Call me a vaccine, because I’d love to be your first dose of romance.
I know we should stay six feet apart, but could we meet halfway at three?
Are you a contact tracer? Because I’d love to explain how we connected.
You’ve got me feeling positive, and for once, I’m not worried about the test.
If attraction were contagious, we’d both be in mandatory isolation by now.
Are you my quarantine pod? Because I feel safest—and happiest—with you.
I’d share my last roll of toilet paper with you. That’s practically a proposal.
You must be a face shield, because you protect my heart from bad decisions.
Are you an N95? Because you’re a perfect fit and hard to get.
I can’t promise immunity, but I can promise symptoms of butterflies.
Is your love language social distancing? Because I’m happy to give you space—beside me.
You’re more comforting than a fresh delivery of snacks during lockdown.
Are you a PCR test? Because I keep thinking about you, even after hours of waiting.
I’d invite you into my quarantine bubble, but fair warning: it’s mostly snacks and feelings.
Did you just sanitize your hands, or did you wipe away all my other options?
We may be six feet apart, but you’re living rent-free in my thoughts.
Are you a vaccine appointment? Because I’ve been waiting all day for you.
I don’t need a symptom checker to know you make my heart race.
You’re the only person I’d willingly mute my pandemic news for.
Are you a lockdown? Because the moment I saw you, everything else stopped.
My mask says “stay back,” but my eyes are clearly saying “come closer.”
If we were contact-traced, our story would begin with “they met and instantly clicked.”
You’re my favorite kind of positive result.
Would you like to form a two-person household and overanalyze every text together?
Are you a temperature check? Because you just made things significantly hotter.
I’d quarantine with you, provided you agree to choose the streaming service.
You must be herd immunity, because together we could overcome anything.
Is that a vaccine in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me after months indoors?
I’m following all health guidance, except the part about not falling for you.
You’re the only outbreak I’d want spreading through my entire friend group.
Are you a sanitizer station? Because I keep coming back for another little squeeze.
We could keep six feet apart and still have chemistry strong enough to transmit through Wi-Fi.
I’ve got no fever, cough, or loss of taste—just a serious taste for you.
Let’s skip the small talk and compare our favorite quarantine snacks.
Are you my emergency contact? Because I want you at the top of my list.
I’d wear a mask for you, but my blush is already giving me away.
You make my social battery recover faster than a canceled plan.
Are you a negative test? Because seeing you would make my whole week better.
We can take it slow: first a wave, then a video call, then destiny.
You must be essential, because my day doesn’t function without you.
Are you a quarantine haircut? Because you’re unexpectedly attractive and slightly chaotic.
If you were a vaccine, I’d book every booster just to see you again.
I’d let you into my bubble, even though it’s already at maximum capacity.
Are you a mask tie? Because you’ve got me all wrapped up.
You’re the only notification I’d check during a meeting about staying home.
I’d cross any empty supermarket aisle just to say hello from a safe distance.
Are you a public-health briefing? Because I’m hanging on every word you say.
You’ve got me more excited than finding flour in stock during lockdown.
I’m not an epidemiologist, but I predict a strong connection between us.
Are you a testing site? Because I’d wait in line for a chance with you.
My quarantine playlist has one track: “Can I take you out when this is over?”
If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd keep U and I exactly where they are, with eleven letters between them.
Are you coronavirus? Because you're giving me a fever.
