Dating a woman in a wheelchair

She is most passionate about building a network of people with disabilities who are empowering, supporting and creating a more inclusive world. Personally, she is a mother of two beautiful, wise and exceptionally bright young women, and residing in South Florida. Trending Self-Advocacy and Assertiveness: What is our Scene?

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Part 2 — The Love Dr. Going deeper is Key Column Four: What we as human beings can look past in order find the beauty within another individual. I have now been dating Ali, who is a C6 quadriplegic, for a little over a year and a half.

You may know her from the Quirky Quad Diaries blog www. This past September, we were all packed and on the road for a three-week vacation. As I was driving, swerving the morning traffic while sipping my coffee and managing to find a good station to listen to, Ali was making phone calls and scheduling plans.

After a short stop in Orlando and the several hour drive further south, we arrived in the Coconut Grove area of Miami, just around the time she had put the finishing touches on our schedule of places to go, things to eat, and people to see. By the time our third day rolled around, Ali had arranged for her friend Deborah Davis, who runs Push Living Magazine, to meet us for an early evening dinner at this fantastic tiki-hut beach-bar, nestled behind some city buildings, alongside a marina.

Between the laid-back, beachy vibe and the ambient smells of shellfish and salty air swirling around us, Ali had picked the perfect venue. Deborah and her date had arrived shortly after Ali and I had found a suitable table, positioned in a spot where the sea wind and the evening sun were most soothing. We were able to listen to some live music over a light dinner which later led to splashing a few drinks and jokes as the evening grew long. Midway through our dinner, Deborah posed the question to me of what it was like to date someone in a wheelchair?

The Question is back! This topic had us returning to this conversation several times throughout the night. The truth is, other than the one exchange I had with my father several months into the relationship; I never put much thought into it before that night. I spoke with Ali about it over the next few mornings, and she made a comment that I felt to be fairly profound. I had never imagined myself dating someone in a wheelchair.

It previously never crossed my mind.

My father may have pointed out how most of the people he knows would shy away from a date from fear of not relating, but also pointed out why I did. Ali and I were already talking to one another before we initially met. Doing so might break the elaborate fiction they've created of a Superman walking among us, throwing lonely disabled girls a pity boning.

Short of shutting ourselves behind closed doors all day, it's inescapable. My fiance has mentioned to me more than once just how uncomfortable this makes him feel, and I can hardly blame him. He's here because he likes me, and he knows that I'm more than the wheels everyone else uses to define me.

I listen to music.

I wear too much eyeliner. I attend wrestling shows.

Would You Date a Wheelchair User?

I like superhero movies. I'm terrible at Crash Bandicoot. I swear like a motherfucker. These are the reasons he's with me. Pity isn't one of them.

Besides, the closest he gets to heroism is when he remembers to put his underpants on before his jeans when he's drunk. I've been asked whether I can feel anything. Can I satisfy my partner? Can I go for a normal length of time? Do I have to use special positions? Do I have to use contraception? Can I have sex at all? Has my vagina been sealed by a magic curse which can only be lifted by the love of a prince? I get these questions all the time. Fortunately, most people have had the decency to stop short of asking if they could watch.

You'd imagine that the worst offenders here are drunk men outside of pubs, but that couldn't be further from the truth. When I was collecting my contraceptive pill from the pharmacy, the middle-aged woman who was behind me in the queue asked me why I needed them.

In front of everyone. Truth be told, I take them for medical reasons as well as baby prevention, but that wasn't what she was driving at. So I turned around and told her it was because I got laid more often than she did. If I could sculpt her stunned expression in bronze and put it on my shelf as a little trophy, I would. On another occasion, my male best friend, who I have never dated and never will, was spotted leaving my room at 1 a.

The first thing one of my female flatmates said to me the next morning was, "So you can have sex, then? Sadly, this happens on a pretty consistent basis. I don't know what it is about the wheelchair, but the second someone gets comfortable enough with me to start asking personal questions and it doesn't take long , the topic of sex comes up, and they get pretty goddamn blunt about it. I'm still confused as to why the wheelchair generates these kinds of behaviors in people, and why they take offense when I take offense to these queries.

What are they expecting? For me to crack and give up all the juicy details like it's a police interrogation? I owe them nothing and they should expect nothing, other than a punch to the face as they're doubled over in pain after I've run over their foot in yet another perfectly executed exit. She also has a Facebook page accompanying the blog, sending out notifications with every new post, as well as the obligatory silly photos. If you loved this article and want more content like this, support our site with a visit to our Contribution Page.

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