I thought I'd write a few lines in response to the new Channel 4 programme, 'The Undatables', seeing as it's clearly got the Twitterati going. I really should watch more TV, but there's usually not much on that interests me. On occasion, though, this means that I miss out on something good, and this might be one of those occasions.
Without having seen it, I think I can guess why a lot of people watch this programme (based on the article I read about it on the BBC website anyway) - it's to see some freaky-looking people, right? And to ask yourself, if you're able-bodied, Would I date that person? Don't worry, if the answer is no, that doesn't make you a bad person; just like, if the answer is yes, it doesn't make you a saint. The same rules apply to disabled people as everyone else: you're either attracted to them or you're not.
Speaking from, admittedly, limited personal experience, it is very difficult as a disabled person to date in the normal sense. Even if you get past the main obstacle of whether or not the other person would consider going out with you, you have transport, access (to buildings), privacy, and possibly mobility issues which inevitably get in the way a little bit however disabled you are. I can't begin to imagine how hard, not to mention humiliating, it must be for a person to go on a date with their parent or carer present - it's the sort of subjective experience that can never be fully expressed to another person.
My own 'dating' history in full: 1 corny love poem slid across a library desk when I was 17 to the girl I fancied in Sixth-Form = very polite rejection (this had nothing to do with me being disabled, I'm pretty sure); 1 very brief online 'friendship'; and 1 long distance relationship which is still going strong after 7 years. That's it.
An online, long distance relationship, I hear you cry; how typical of a disabled person. Maybe. Me and my partner often speculate about what would have happened had we met face to face, in school for example. I can honestly say I would have found her attractive, and she would have liked me too (though, as I said, she's not a saint!), but it really is just that - speculation. We'll never know what would have happened, so why worry about it? We're here now and that's what matters.
The first online 'friendship' I mentioned deserves a few words more. I put the word in inverted commas because I can't say for sure exactly what it was: a brief online relationship with a girl I randomly 'met' online or just someone I enjoyed chatting to like so many others at that time? I used to be one of those people who could hold 5 msn convserations simultaneously. One of the last times I chatted to her, though, was the day I first mentioned that I was born without legs. I can still see the blank conversation box and the little message saying she was writing her response, probably trying to compute what I'd just told her. She replied how shocked she was and not much else. Such was the silence (I could tell instinctively that everything had changed) that I asked her, "Do you still like me?" And she replied "Not as much as I used to - half as much".
It's nice to know that one's legs truly are half of one's entire being.
I can laugh about it now, but it was crushing at the time. But that's my experience of the world. People are obsessed with externals, and how can I blame them? I am as well. The internet is a medium through which unsociable people can be sociable, introverts extroverts, and disabled people 'normal people'. It's a world where most of 'us', if we choose the right profile picture, can interact with people without our disability being an issue, unless we want it to be, of course. I for one use a head and shoulders photo 99% of the time, but I think that's going to change. My disability is an important part of who I am and I'm not ashamed of it - nor should any other disabled person be.
Incidentally, when I first told my girlfriend that I was legless all those years ago, she said something along the lines of, "Cool! Actually I have a lot more respect for you now."
On a final note, the obstacles don't end just because the person decides to go on a date with you, or decides that they like you 'in that way'. They actually begin at that point. For me, disability is about not being able to hold Kat's hand as I 'walk' down the pavement with her, without accidentally running over her foot and getting a slap on the arm that is. It's not being able to get something out of a high shelf for her, or change the batteries in the smoke alarm. Most physically disabled people, I think, once they've reached their mid twenties, have accepted that they're probably not going to walk on the moon, but they should never resign themselves to a lifetime of being romantically alone. There are 7 billion people out there and 7 billion is an even number, not an odd one.
