I write and speak endlessly about being a proud, unapologetic disabled woman.It is part of my identity, shaping everything I do and everything I value.I eagerly began swiping, quickly matching with an attractive man whose profile picture showed him sporting an enormous iguana on his shoulder.
Because I was born with my disability — Larsen syndrome, a genetic joint and muscle disorder — I’d already gathered a pile of romantic rejections seemingly big enough to fill an Olympic swimming pool by the time I downloaded Tinder.
This particular rejection, however, unleashed a wave of panic within me.
So, we spent our entire date sitting directly below the painters, eating dinner and making strained conversation with wine-fueled laughter and painting instruction in the background. Following that disaster, I promised my date I’d get his money back.
As soon as the company refunded our tickets, I never heard from him again.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t interested at all, messaging back only to say: “Sorry.