Help! Covid’s Turned Me Into A Clingy Girlfriend

Hello, my name is Victoria and I'm a clingy girlfriend. As a formerly perpetually single person, it’s a weird thing to admit that you’re hopelessly attached. But after a year of working from home with my boyfriend, it’s hard to imagine him not being in my orbit 24 hours a day.

I’ve come to rely on his quick wit to console me when work is tough, I’ve depended on him when this whole pandemic thing felt like too much to manage and I’ve even become accustomed to and comforted by his annoying habits (of which, dear reader, there are many).

But as normality returns and we’re faced with being separated for the first time in over a year, we’re bracing ourselves for competing commitments, diverging social lives and time spent apart. And honestly? I’m dreading it.

Admitting that feels like the cardinal sin of feminism, like I’m letting the side down. Today, women can be so much more than the traditional roles set aside for them.

As children, Disney sold us the damsel in distress. As adults, we’re sold the strong independent woman and a new narrative has emerged that suggests we must do it all alone for our experiences to be valid. I’ve found myself confused about where the line between exercising my independence and being romantically vulnerable is drawn.

Like me, Rachel, 32, who works in PR, says she’s always found this hard to decipher. ‘I’ve been the opposite of clingy in my relationships. Being codependent has been a real struggle,’ she explains. ‘There’s such a disparity between the sexes and we’re treated so differently in society that I’ve often found it hard to let my guard down with men. It feels like we’re on opposing sides.’

I get it. So much of the current discussion revolves around men’s shortcomings, so it can feel at odds to be reliant on one. It’s hard to reconcile sharing a bed with someone whose sex is often perceived as the enemy.

Before my boyfriend came along, I prided myself on my ability to stand on my own two feet. As friends fell in love and married, I consoled my loneliness with solo travels and a burgeoning career in journalism. I (badly) built flat-pack furniture, paid my bills and relished the feeling of not needing a man to make me happy. Three years into a committed relationship, I can still stand on my own two feet – I just have someone supporting me when I need propping up.

Niamh, 29, a journalist who is one of the most independent, accomplished and brave women I know, says her boyfriend feels like her anchor in life. ‘I love the bubble we’ve adapted to and I don’t want that to end. He is the one who is there for me every step of the way. Just because I feel this way doesn’t make me any less of a feminist,’ she muses.

She reminds me that it’s possible to operate with agency inside a relationship. We can be girlfriends, wives and mothers and career women, loyal friends and feminists. We can also choose to be none of those things or so much more. Romantic attachment doesn’t have to come at the expense of equality; it can be a part of it.

I enjoy caring for someone. And being taken care of. I also know that I’m capable of taking care of myself.

If that makes me clingy? So be it.