I was ready for my date with Anna. We had been talking for a week and I felt comfortable enough to tell her about my disability – arthrogryposis, a condition that affects my joints and voice. I was confident, as a former Paralympian, that I could handle anything. But nothing could have prepared me for the night’s events.
The restaurant was empty, a strange feeling on a Saturday night. Then, Anna texted, explaining she’d be late due to work. As I waited, a wave of familiar pre-date anxieties washed over me. It was a strange feeling, waiting for someone you’ve never met before. You wonder how the conversation will go, if it’ll be awkward, if it’ll lead to anything.
When Anna finally arrived, our eyes met, we smiled, and I extended my hand. But instead of a handshake, she patted my head. It felt like everything happened in slow motion. I was speechless, my jaw nearly hit the floor. The awkward silence stretched on, and Anna didn’t apologize or make light of the situation. In that moment, I felt like a disabled boy, not a man on a date.
Anna was charming and engaging. We spoke about wheelchair rugby, which I rarely discuss on first dates. But the pat on the head lingered. She seemed uncomfortable with my wheelchair, offering to help me with tasks I was perfectly capable of doing myself. The evening felt like a constant reminder of my disability, rather than a chance to connect with someone.
At the end of the date, Anna said she’d enjoyed herself and called me ‘inspirational’ for ‘overcoming so much.’ That was the final straw. I’ve never overcome anything. Being disabled isn’t something to overcome. It’s a part of who I am.
I declined Anna’s second date offer. The experience highlighted a common misconception about disability: it’s not something to be conquered but simply a part of life, something to adapt to, just like any other human being. Despite the awkwardness, I walked away with a valuable lesson – that sometimes, good intentions can lead to unintended consequences.
