image – Flickr / Jen Rossey
As I approach my 26th birthday, and realize I have now used a wheelchair for twenty of those years, I can’t help but reflect on all my relationship encounters with the opposite sex. The excitement of meeting someone new, and the far too often letdown of the never-returned-text or the pass-over at the bar. With each interaction, I question whether dating would be different, if I wasn’t in a wheelchair.
In college, I chalked all the rejections and friend zoning by guys up to immaturity and the “college mentality.” To dull the sting, I would remind myself that it would get better once I graduated. I naively thought male maturity would flip a switch the moment they received their diploma. That they would suddenly be attracted to me, look past my disability and give me as much attention as all of my friends. I…
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