So, can you still … do it?

As crude as it sounds, this is the most common question women wheelchair users get when they enter the dating pool. As if dating in 2022 wasn’t hard enough already – especially when you’re in your late 40s like me – people with disabilities who are brave enough to put themselves out there in the search of romance face an entirely different set of challenges than those of nondisabled singles.

My situation is further complicated by the fact I wasn’t born disabled, and only started dating as a full-time wheelchair user after my divorce seven years ago. In my 20s, I never had a hard time meeting men at bars or social events. I was attractive, in great physical shape, outgoing, and led a very active social life with friends. At the time, I didn’t want to get married or have children, so I wasn’t looking for anything serious. Online dating existed, but it wasn’t nearly as popular as it is today. In any case, I didn’t need it.

Fast forward to 2015, when I became newly single. I had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis 10 years earlier and was now a full-time wheelchair user. I could stand with some help and had full upper body function, but I could no longer walk at all. I was still attractive, but not as fit as I used to be because now my options for exercise were limited. Still, after taking the appropriate amount of time to heal from my divorce, I decided to give dating a try after over a decade of being off the market.

A New World

The return to dating came with a long list of anxiety-inducing challenges. Just like for nondisabled singles, there are two main routes for people with disabilities to look for a romantic partner — in person and online — and each way has its pros and cons. Personally, I prefer meeting potential dates in person. That way, there’s no question about the fact that I use a wheelchair — men get a sneak preview of what I physically can and cannot do (in a G-rated capacity), and they have an opportunity to get to know me beyond just the chair.

However, the biggest obstacle to meeting potential partners in person is going out and getting into places where you would, you know, meet potential partners. Much of my social life revolves around the live music scene in Orlando, and dive bars aren’t exactly known for their wheelchair accessibility. Wheeling around tables and stools, inaccessible bathrooms, and touchy-feely drunk patrons isn’t my idea of a good time. Almost every time I go to a local bar to hear live music, an inebriated man much larger than me is either leaning on my chair, trying to lean on me, or is on the brink of falling on top of me. While I get an inordinate amount of attention from men when I go out for a live music event, much of it isn’t necessarily pleasant.

A male friend once told me that people often treat me like I’m a pet — and as a single woman in a wheelchair in social spaces, I’m certainly regarded as a novelty of sorts. In bars, both men and women tend to come up and touch me without permission. On a recent cruise, a woman approached me during a silent disco, kissed me on the cheek and hugged me without even saying hello first. On another cruise, a guest entertainer had a hard time keeping his hands to himself, despite having a wife back home.

I’ve had better luck with friends of friends, or people whom I meet in a group setting, but even that isn’t a guarantee against a bad situation. Several months ago, I had an acquaintance offer to do me a favor with a home repair. I had known him for a couple of years from the live music scene, but we had never had an extensive conversation. We went out on a few dates, and things seemed promising, until I decided to do a cursory background check of public criminal records. It turned out that three weeks before our first date, he had been arrested for domestic battery of his ex-girlfriend, who had broken up with him only a few days earlier.

No App for This

A lot of wheelchair users opt for the online dating experience, also known as the ninth circle of hell. Truth be told, my online dating experience has been horrific. I make sure my wheelchair features prominently in my primary profile photo on every platform. I have a good mix of full-body photos in my wheelchair and close-ups of my face, so when men swipe right on me, I’m assuming they know what’s up. The hardest part for me after matching with somebody is to get a good conversation going.

The first challenge is getting past … let’s call them “unfortunate” comments and questions. One man asked me if I could pull him in a wagon behind my chair. The most common first question I get has something to do with my ability, or perceived lack thereof, to have sex.

Next is the curse of multitasking. I’ve had men confuse their conversations with me because they were messaging another woman at the same time, which gets uncomfortable when they tell me how much fun they had hanging out with me the night before — even though we’ve never met. One told me he wasn’t into texting or online dating, right after he asked me through an online dating app for my phone number so he could text me.

Even if we’re able to engage in great conversation over several days, that doesn’t always bode well. A few years ago, I was really hitting it off with a senior firefighter of a local battalion. That is, until I figured out his full name, Googled him, and found out he had been arrested for domestic assault. Then there was the guy I was having a pretty profound conversation with, who suddenly started to get way too sexual in his texts and asked if he could take a pause from texting so he could go masturbate.

Then there are the personal moments that are just plain awkward. Several years ago, I was rolling around downtown Warsaw, the capital of Poland, when an American man came up to me. He said, “Hey, are you on Tinder? I think I saw your profile last night. Sophia or something, right?” Of course, it was me. There probably aren’t that many women who look like me with travel photos in an electric scooter on Tinder, and certainly not within whatever mile radius his app was set to. But there I was, telling him no, he must have me mistaken for somebody else.

Rolling Forward

By now, I’m sure you’re wondering what my success rate has been with both dating methods. Because I’m a travel writer, I spent a few years not dating because I was always out of town, and I didn’t date at all during the pandemic. However, I have been on several pleasant dates with men I met through online dating. They never made it past the first date because the chemistry just wasn’t there, although they were genuinely nice people. They had a few shy questions about my MS and my wheelchair, but that only came after a considerable amount of conversation. The two men I have dated for any significant length of time since my divorce are people I had either worked with or knew through mutual friends, and this is still how I feel safest.

Dating at an older age is tough, whether or not you have a disability. Being a wheelchair user adds extra obstacles in the minds of others. They worry if down the road they’re going to have to take care of you. If they’ll be able to have sex with you. If you’ll be able to go out on “normal” dates. The answers to these questions are going to vary from person to person, of course. But the good news is that there are awesome men — and women — out there whose interest in a person goes beyond simply the way you get from point A to point B. Only you’ll have to sit through some awkward dates and head-tilting conversations to find them.