Dating sites offer a near magic experience for me. One of the things I've always hated about disability, even more so as a teenager and then as a young adult, was the apparent impossibility of getting some rest of it. Especially as a social interaction mediator. I really wanted to be seen, beyond any underrated external appearance or label. But this one would never go away.
Last time I've checked, over 60% of women claimed they will never be romantically involved with some guy with a disability. Even before having data, I've already come in too close contact with these statistics. This situation has always been very perceptible with several different degrees of clarity. Actually, this was the very first aspect of my life for which disability has shown to be a rather powerful excuse for exclusion, and frustration source. Best part is nobody needs to say a word about it. But it's there. It always is.
I could go (and went) for the psychological simplistic reading that I was pushing all these girls away, because I myself wouldn't accept who I really was. Again, accepting that would give me some sort of potential feeling of control over my own life and destiny, which I guess any developing person needs to grow up with a bit of self-security. Plus, despite the fact this pseudo therapy process would transfer a lot of my parents money to psychotherapists' pockets, there hasn't been much noticeable effect over my emotional well-being.
Apart from that, the more these romantic relationships would grow in importance and time spending among my friends as I'd grow up, the more alone I've gotten. Not only I wouldn't be able to interact with the girls at this level like they were, and make a sense of my own sexual identity, but I'd also become so different from my able-bodied friends, that I would soon become some sort of cast away right in the middle of regular school, the place I'd be occupying if it wasn't for being disabled (in fact, a place I had occupied not very long before since at that point it was up to me).
Most of my timid experiences in the romantic arena have started happening when I was around 19. And of course there was an additional price to be paid for initiating my life as male at that point. When I say these experiences have started then, I don't absolutely mean they've become a steady flow. Quite the opposite. Too many obstacles in life would provide extra difficulties for getting and maintaining these relationships. They'd feel much more like a fortunate accident, than something I could say I've had any control over. I've had too heavy luggage to carry. So either I'd be discriminated (no words of course) or would be deemed as exaggerated and neurotic.
This has been an ever present giant hole in my life. Scale would tilt to both sides and I'd never be positive about the ground I was stepping on. Difference was later on, unlike in my teenage years, it wouldn't be the only one. Fact I was really clever all my life has brought me safe and sound only until University prep course at the age of 18. Everything I needed to study was well organized and accessible, which gave me the chance to become a top student, despite the never ending depression, exclusion, and loneliness.
But when I went to the University, things were all so different. Nothing was organized or accessible there. Classes would happen all over the giant campus. Books wouldn't be available, and even if they were, I'd have to spend very long looking for them at the huge libraries. I'd just get exhausted and learn very little. Fun was always related to activities I couldn't take part on. I was ashamed of all that. I thought it was somehow my fault and couldn't bond with my colleagues. Plus, it seemed I had become dumb all of a sudden. There was absolutely nowhere to anchor my self-esteem to. It took me more than 10 years to understand why university was a lousy experience for me, even as a student.
Today, besides the limitations currently imposed on me in leading my quasi-normal life experiment, I still face all these other demons from the past. Exclusion is something similar to heavy-metal poisoning. You get it a little at a time, and it accumulates all over your body and your life, generating some nasty effects as time goes by. It's always easier to blame that on someone's personality. It's better for the conception of world dominant people like to live with. Only issue is that's freaking unfair.
Very often, I feel like escaping all that. And a guy like me, whose disability is only perceived by others as I move and speak, online relationship sites are extremely refreshing. As I've mentioned in previous essays, not because I'll trick girls to believe I'm something I'm really not. Before meeting them, I always go through the very unpleasant process of telling them about my disability, explaining it in the most detailed manner I possibly can. Some of them will just stop talking to me, as if I've done something wrong in having that in the first place. Others will say it's ok. Of course ok in theory is a whole lot different from ok in practice, and I get it, really, I do. Few will like me as a man, and treat me like they would do to any other guy. I realize these are very few, and meeting them takes lots of time, effort, and emotional energy. This is very frustrating at times, since I also have extra work to do at the other aspects of my life.
However, as nice as being in the game for finding a life partner maybe, I've realized the most value I actually extract from the whole online dating experience is not very correlated with the 3 or 4 dates I can have in a very long time and in which we both get attracted to each other (and that won't necessarily become anything else, because life's too complicated). The thrill I get from swiping and talking is actually bitter-sweet. I get to experiment a taste of the life I'd have if it wasn't for my disability. It's sweet because it gives me the certainty I'm a nice, even good looking, very lovable man. It reassures me about qualities I do have, but which are often offset by stigma or any other form of prejudice others usually have embedded in their eyes. But it's also very bitter when the real date shock makes me aware of how my life is poorer in pleasant and tender social experiences than it would be in a disability-free environment like the virtual one I've had the chance to flow in. No matter what happens, I've got to come back to this concrete reality eventually. And especially in comparison, it truly sucks.
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