For PWDs, Online Dating Can Level the Field
By Deborah Kendrick
When Sue Thomson (her name has been changed to protect her
anonymity) was 15, she met a boy on what was called a party line, a number
teenagers called to exchange personal phone numbers.
Thomson and the boy would talk for hours. They learned
that they attended high schools just across town from one another and shared
interests in everything from music to TV shows to books to cars. When her 16 th
birthday came and he asked when she'd get her driver's license, she panicked:
She hadn't told him she was blind.
When she finally told him, it was a shock, but much less
of one because he already knew her well – as just a girl.
Thirty-five years later, that experience stayed with her.
When her 20-year marriage ended in divorce, Thomson took a few years to heal,
raise her children and focus on being a single woman with a good job and a lot
of responsibility. Eventually, friends talked her into online dating, and she
signed up for Match.com.
Many people with disabilities (PWDs) have found that the
Internet is a wonderful place to meet people for friendship and to initiate
dating.
Utilizing an online dating service, Thomson didn't post a
photo, not wanting anyone in her small town to recognize her and not wanting to
take the risk of possibly interested men identifying her blindness. It worked
well. The sign-up process was a little tricky – not all of the graphics
were labeled with text – but eventually she posted her ad, figured out how
to cruise the listings of others, and set her preferences so that e-mails would
come to her regular inbox but her e-mail address would be hidden when she
replied.
She had a system. She'd write back and forth a few times.
If the prospective dates were dull, couldn't spell or lived too far away, she'd
end the correspondence. With some, long correspondences emerged – long,
lovely, detailed letters that shared histories, hobbies and attitudes. When it
was mutually agreed upon, she'd allow a phone call, always taking the other
person's number and blocking her from being revealed via caller ID before
placing the initial call.
At this stage, too, there was a pattern. Sometimes, Sue
and the caller clicked, and long conversations would ensue. If so, she allowed
this stage to go as long as both were content – often a few weeks –
before mentioning a meeting or her disability. When the possibility of meeting
was finally suggested, though, she knew it was time to drop the B (blindness)
bomb! She did it in a variety of ways. The most common went something like
this: “I need to tell you something about me that hasn't come up. I can't
drive and I can't read menus.”
Sometimes, the response was some vague “Oh yeah, I
wear glasses, too,” so she would persist. “No. I can't read any kind
of print. I read Braille.” Or: “You'll notice something different
about me right away. My dog will be with me.” That, too, would lead to
explanations.
Usually, she said, by the time the friendship got to this
point, the other party would express surprise, ask a lot of questions, and the
meeting would be set up. Feeling that precaution is vital for anyone involved
in meeting strangers and perhaps more so for a woman with a disability, she
always chose the place – a familiar bar or coffee shop – and always
arrived first. She liked to have the new “date” find her sitting at a
table, casually sipping her chardonnay or latte.
Over the course of a year or so, this led to a number of
truly pleasant nights out, a handful of very solid friendships, and one
whirlwind romance that led to marriage. A few times, though, the shock was at
her end, her revelation boomeranging over the phone wires with utter cruelty.
One such instance occurred during a blossoming
correspondence between Sue and an orthopedic surgeon. They loved all the same
music, movies and books. They had the same number of children at same ages, and
they had similar divorce stories. It was Christmastime, and they had the same
childlike reverence for the season and all its traditions, both religious and
secular. On the phone, he said, he couldn't wait to take her on a horse-drawn
carriage ride through snow-covered streets and see the Christmas displays
together, followed by a romantic dinner.
At that point, she said, “There's something I need to
tell you. It's about those Christmas displays. I won't see them.” At
first, he didn't get it. When she explained, however, his attitude suddenly
changed, and his anger was like a volcanic eruption.
“How dare you!” he sputtered. “How dare you
pose as a normal woman, lead me on, and then drop something like this on me!"
Needless to say, she was finished with the conversation
and grateful that she'd never revealed her own phone number.
With Internet dating, initial conversations can be held on
a genuinely level playing field, particularly if the person with a disability
chooses to wait to mention the disability. This, too, has been handled in a
variety of ways, with a variety of outcomes.
Laura Olsen, who is visually impaired, opted to try
“faking it.” She met men in places familiar to her, folded her white
cane into her purse, and arrived first to adjust to the lighting and thus
ensure that she could move smoothly throughout the restaurant or other venue.
This met with varying degrees of success. Sometimes men were so dazzled when
they found out that she had a visual disability that they placed her on an even
higher pedestal, and sometimes they were put off. In her case, a lot of first
meetings took place, but none of them led to romance.
When Greg and Mimi (not their real names) met in an online
chat room, neither was even looking for love. They talked about everything from
politics to life in the city versus the country to music to books to
technology. When they realized they were falling in love, each had a
characteristic to share: He was a paraplegic, accompanied 24/7 by his manual
wheelchair; she was blind, accompanied most of the time by her guide dog.
They've been married for years.
Still others have found that getting all information out
front at the outset is the way to go. Mary Kane posted her picture and wrote an
ad listing all of her active pursuits: cycling, skating, martial arts, reading
and singing. She mentioned at the end of her ad that she was blind. She
received very little response, despite the fact that she is an extremely
attractive, engaging woman. Her own assessment was that it wasn't her blindness
that put men off, but the fact that her ad was perhaps intimidating or that she
should have lied about her age.
John Donato, on the other hand, boldly posted his picture
on eHarmony with his large guide dog at his side. He listed his interests in
travel and classical music, his success as a small-business owner, and then
mentioned his blindness. He received several responses from interested women.
He set up a meeting one afternoon with a woman who fascinated him. He and his
dog were waiting on a park bench when she arrived. They couldn't stop talking,
he recalled, and a whirlwind romance and happy marriage followed.
Although those previously mentioned here were all
heterosexual, many individuals representing both the gay community and
disability community have found online venues to be suitable environments for
making new connections.
People interviewed for this article had a variety of
experiences. Some disclosed their disabilities immediately, while others did
not. Some were flooded with desirable responses, while others were not. For
people whose disability is blindness, the additional difficulty of navigating
an online dating site played some role in their ultimate choices. Match.com,
eHarmony and JDate were the three Web sites people found the most accessible.
The greatest appeal of this method for making new friends
or possible romantic relationships is the comfort and relative safety of
getting to know another person without the glaring presence of a wheelchair or
white cane or other tool getting in the way of becoming initially acquainted.
The cautions that nearly everyone suggested were these: Meet in a public place,
be sure that at least one person knows where you are going and with whom you
are meeting, and don't be discouraged if the other person doesn't jump for joy
upon meeting you. In the latter case, move on to the next response in your
inbox and don't let any response affect your own estimate of self-worth.
Another suggestion: Be prepared to spend a lot of time. It
takes an enormous time commitment to build friendships in any environment, and
when you cast your net into a sea as large as an Internet dating site, getting
to know another person doesn't happen immediately. If you protect yourself
– both with regard to safety and psychological well-being – exploring
the world of online dating can be just plain fun.
Deborah Kendrick is a newspaper columnist, editor and
poet. She is currently working on a biography of Dr. Abraham Nemeth.
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