It's taught us to be wary of physical contact and more measured about who we let into our personal space.
And, I'm just gonna say it – this has been a really, really good thing for women.
Pre-pandemic, unwanted palms pressed into the small of our backs in bars and needless arm grasping at work were as routine as leaving the house without a mask and a pocket-sized bottle of hand sanitiser (remember that??).
In 2022, though, when a mere handshake could spark an outbreak, women are – for the first time in a long time – moving through the world with a sense of autonomy around our bodies.
There is of course, no need to smooth a woman's waist as you pass her in a crowd or line – no utility to touching her on the forearm as you say, "excuse me" in the supermarket, or en route to the photocopier.
We shroud these acts under a veil of social politeness because it allows men to remain comfortable, never interrogating the ways their invasion of our spaces makes us feel unsafe.
"He was just being friendly," is a retort commonly served to women who challenge this code.
"Feminism has gone too far. Men are afraid to even be around women these days!" is another.
And to those men, I say: what is it exactly you're afraid of? What were you planning on doing to a woman that you can no longer do?
If a world that requires consent and cognisance of female body autonomy scares or threatens you, it's quite possible you're not actually as chivalrous as you like to think you are.
Framing unsolicited touch as courteousness shelters men's egos while doing little to make women feel meaningfully protected.
In truth, most of us are far less concerned with whether a guy will ever hold a door open for us again than we are with being able to move through the world safely, with the knowledge our bodies belong to us.
I'd be willing to wager many of the women reading right now have been on the receiving end of a palm on the back in line at a crowded cafe or bar that's suddenly slid low, or a hand on a knee that's found its way under their dress while they've sat paralysed with fear, terrified to do or say anything that may unsettle an ego. Because we know all too well that shattered male pride can result in violence.
It's why we walk a little faster when there's a guy behind us on the street at night, giggle at a male colleague's demeaning jokes, and smile politely when strangers touch our bodies without asking.
A post-social distancing world may be one in which women can breathe a little easier; not only because two years of lockdowns, scrupulous hygiene and advancements in testing and vaccinations mean we're looking at the very real possibility of breaking free from a deadly virus; we're also on the precipice of a cultural shift in terms of the way we interact with each other.
Just as we acclimatised to mask wearing and two square metre rules, we're already adjusting to saying things that once felt awkward – things like, "Is it okay if I hug you?".
And in the same way these once foreign acts we were all convinced would spell the end of genuine human connection conversely bought us closer as a community – men too, will pass women without tracing a hand behind our waists and learn it's not in fact the end of chivalry and common decency, just an evolution to a world that recognises women's bodies don't belong to them.
