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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/17/2005 6:07:24 PM | | Well personally I dont think disabilities should be an issue....In my own opinion I think that what comes from within is what is important and even though there may be a disability involved everyone is still a person and all obstacles can be overcome.. | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/17/2005 6:07:53 PM | | I dated a man that had polio since he was a child . He was in a wheelchair and his leg had atrophied...but that didn't stop him from taking me dancing or anything else. He was quite sweet and I really enjoyed the time we spent together. | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/17/2005 9:24:34 PM | There was a guy, I dated a couple of times; met with his brother over drinks tonight, who just can't understand why any woman would be interested in his brother because he is missing half a leg.
I guess Brother is missing half of his compassion, brain stem, brotherly love....
But yet this brother and I have renewed our friendship; not the one I dated missing the limb.
Which is probably the 4th guy or so that I've dating missing a limb.
Why would a bro find it difficult to understand dating him when I don't???? | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/18/2005 5:11:37 AM | | i dated a girl whos legs had atrophied. she was gorgeous. everytime we came to stairs i would pick her up in my arms and carry her. ended up being something i loved doing. always felt a little closer to her when we got to the top. really miss her | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/19/2005 9:14:19 AM | Good morning ladies and gents!
So, this question should read for me "Would I date someone like me?"
It depends on what stage of acceptance that they are at. Not what their disability is.
Also, when asking about dating, it also depends on the depth of dating too, as in is this a date for recreation? (No, not simply sexual. Could be just a "let's get cleaned up and go out" thing!)
Long story: Hardcore army guy. Nine years in, a lifetime to go and loving it. Borrows a motorcycle and gets T-boned by a stupid betch not paying attention. shatters jaw, both hands, right arm, right hip bone, right knee dislocated, crushes right foot. Stomach ruptured and right kidney "displaced" and not functioning.
During surgery, three tumors are found in lymph node area, guy sewn up helter skelter and a new team of surgeons are brought in to assess everything.
Basically, the wreck saves his life, cause they find the tumors in the early stages. But now he is a lifetime member of Office Depot, cause he has half their stock of staples holding him together.
And, he becomes one bitter mofo. His attitude sucks, his outlook sucks. His way of dealing with compassion and assistance sucks. he doesn't like anyone to help him, because he is both stubborn and resentful. His wonderful wife finally gives up, and he lets her. he doesn't see what a stupid jerk he's become. This, the same woman who stood by him through so much, and also stayed on the phone most the nights, because he couldn't sleep.
His pride over ran everything. The simplist of functions, like going to the bathroom, became the most traumatic experiences simply because of pride and mental weakness. Keep in mind that this guy was only 28 and was a hardcore recon soldier just months ago. He felt like dead weight.
Infections knocked him on his ass every other week. His blood was recycled constantly and two IVs leashed him to reality four or five days a week.
The army says have a nice life and get the f- out.
He insists on walking from the airport terminal to his waiting dad and stepmom.... and some of the stitches in his side bust (this is seven months after the first surgery, this is the seventh surgery, to correct misaligned nerves in the gut)
So he stands there bleeding through his clothes, thinking he's John Wayne, and looking like
the biggest hardheaded fool ever to walk the earth.
His dad, a retired Army vet, with two wars and tons of medals holding his walls up at the house, carries his son's scrawny ass (scrawny as in 6-2, 129 pounds) and son feels like going on another plane ride, to somewhere no one knows him. Cause of shame.
So the guy buys a cabin with his army funds, in the middle of nowhere. Woods and mother nature are his friends. His dad lives near enough to come around frequently. But that's it.
Guy begins to heal, but not inside his head.
Dad and stepmom start to worry, a lot. Their kid is fading out mentally.
Kid has no life besides writing and going to see the friendly faces at the VA.
Stepmom decides to take guy out dancing with her, dad, and friends. hahaha. Guy can't stand staight, much less dance.
Guy never dances. Music is "old", people are old, but beer is fresh.
Third time going, a very sprite and lovely Puerto Rican lady comes up to him. Won't take no for an answer. She makes him dance. If dancing is what anyone else would have called it.
She smiles and laughs and spins and holds him up and makes him feel like Fred Astaire.
She says something about his eyes, and how would they look in the morning.
She spends the night. it is so awkward, and so beautiful. It hurt, it felt like rushing streams from ice cold creeks. It felt so d*mn good though, to feel something.
Her hands and her lips never stopped, going everywhere. Good places and the bad.
She falls asleep rubbing his chest, her breath against his heart makes him stay awake all night.
I don't know what all angels look like. But I know what one does. She's short, thin, dark skinned, short black hair. Big smile, but dark eyes that reflect me back to myself.
And legs twice as strong as any linebacker in football.
Guy lays there, thinking about her story she told him. About how her husband drove off a road, into a gully, killing himself. And their three kids. He was an alcoholic, and she had recently filed for divorce because of his abuse. he had taken the kids by force from their grandmothers and had a huge lead on the police.
When she got home, after all that, her house had been set on fire, destroying everything.
Her hubby left a note in the mailbox, about leaving her alive to suffer.
This done to a woman who had given so many years to him, beside him for so long, until she had nothing left to give. And no clear eyes left to blacken.
This was what crippled looked like. And yet she danced flawlessly. She smiled effortlessly.
I was simply a pitiful little man compared to that.
Later, it comes out that she asked me to dance because I looked so sad, and she couldn't stand it.
She was older, and had a "part time" boyfriend who lived out of town. She wasn't about to get married and wasn't about to tie herself down to anyone. Because she feared the loss...
That, is what crippled looked like. Her heart was disabled.
We never slept together again, though we stayed friends. We went dancing a few times, and I continued to get better. Her company made the best rehab.
She even fixed my sink once. I wasn't good at bending down in those kind of places!
She also had a habit of writing poetic tributes on a whim, where ever she was. I had a batch from her, written on bar napkins and fancy girly paper, and even a cigarette pack. She'd hand them to me and never say a word. They were her heart songs, because she never dared to say such things aloud.
I too, began to write. Writing is like wings. Like a caged bird's song. We never know really where we'll go with it. But it takes us so far.
During a relapse in the late 90s, sitting in the hospital, a friend brought me a laptop and said write. Get out of here, through your head. I later found out that laptop cost 1300 dollars. I had about thirtyfive bucks to my name. I didn't think of that guy as that good a friend. But he did. I was wrong. I was so frickin wrong.
I'm not wrong anymore. Because I am not disabled. I ain't Fred Astaire. I ain't John Wayne.
But I can dance pretty good. And I can swagger.
Disablity is only limited by the people in your life. Not by ability.
I would not trade anything about myself now, just to have perfect ability or perfect health.
I am ten times the person I was. Because of the people out there, in this world, who see who we are and not what we are.
I am lucky in that my wheelchair got to be returned to the VA years ago. My canes sit by the back door, dusty as the road to that cabin I used to live in. I kept the walking stick that i carved out of pine. it is huge and has a "dinosaur" head on it that took me weeks to get right.
The "special" inserts for my shoe aren't used anymore. I can walk pretty normal, for a dork.
I get my "cocktail" shots every two months (yesterday) so that my right side doesn't atrophy on me.
-And you know how bad it feels to walk into the VA and be surrounded by old vets with "Real" injuries?
The scars are barely even worth conversation anymore (except today). Just that one dot
where they always give me the shots, which looks like a mole now.
And yet, over there, by the window, on the bed, is such a beautiful woman. Sleeping off the night shift. Her goofy girlie gown hiding the most wonderous of bodies. The sunlight is sneaking across the bedspread, towards her hair. It's almost afraid to touch her, because she'll wake and move away from the bright light. Sometimes I'll go sit over there, rub her lightly on the back or hip, knowing it will bring a soft smile everytime from her lips. I love to watch her sleep, I wish i could sleep so soundly. Yet watching her is like a quiet rest as good as sleep.
I met her a few months ago, and we've gotten to know each other pretty well. Every day, still, I am amazed.
The nightmares that she has lived should have disabled her a long time ago. The weight upon her shoulders and within her heart would have crippled most. Yet it was her smile that caught me. It was her zest for life, for pure enjoyment of living. It made me hungry.
Her and I have had some wild times. We've been quite the couple.
But, the best memory that I carry is of one night when we were just laying there. Her breath upon my stomach, as we sort of drifted in and out of each other's dream. I felt like a bear, coming out of a deep sleep. It's that sense of comfort. Of relaxing. There is no need of hiding flaws or pretense. There is no disability there.
There is no "biggest d*ck or best tits".
There is no religion and certainly no hell.
There are no flaws that a kiss cannot correct.
It's just us. Two perfectly messed up people, holding each other from the brightest light and the darkest views.
We all are disabled, or crippled. Some have no choice but to display it for the world to judge.
And some hide it well until the worst of moments lets it rear its ugly face.
Several years ago, a man with no legs climbed Mt Everest.
The rest of us are just p*ssys.
If any of you read this, thanks for your patience.
-sb | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/19/2005 1:34:06 PM | | I work with people who are disabled. Many are in wheelchairs. When I first started, I saw the chairs, now I see the people inside of them. I sure would...it really is no different. | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/19/2005 1:52:07 PM | Bravo Soulbane.
I think those people too closeminded to take a look at a disabled person are really shortchanging themselves of possibly meeting the love of their lives. Their loss. | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/19/2005 3:29:21 PM | It's heartening to see disabled people seemingly accepting one another in the affairs of the heart... it seems that just about eveyone here says he or she would "date" someone...but I honestly ask... is it really out of pity or curiousity, or could there really be genuine acceptance...even to the point of accepting a disabled person as your partner. With the exception of a couple of honest people, who point blank just say no, most everyone on here says... "yeah.. for sure I'd do it" ...but would they really??
Are you reallly willing to accept or are you just paying lip service to "political correctness".
Why do I say this? Because there is a deeply ingrained lack of acceptance of anything "less than perfect" perhaps it's genetic...perhaps social conditioning... advertising...the blonde, the young, the beautiful hair and face... Unreasonable of course but nontheless the message of perfectness is constantly hammered home by the Madison Avenue and the popular media.
And while we might accept someone as a date...maybe: facing discrimination in the job market is a differnt story...and I can tell you from experience it's not a pretty sight.
So why do we have a different tolerance for the less than perfect as an employer than we do for a partner... or do we? | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/19/2005 4:12:06 PM | | Good points, Richard. Who would answer this thread definitely not, when all are watching, only a select few brave souls. My husband lost his leg to cancer at the age of nine, and I was in a wheelchair for 4 years, 12 years into our marriage, so I can honestly say, without a seconds thought. | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/27/2005 12:29:10 PM | | I'm staying at his place, in my own room, until my surgery is over on the 6th. He's been amazingly kind and considerate, making me feel totally at ease. | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/27/2005 1:17:21 PM | I wish you the very best with your surgery, Georgie.
I come from a family of four females that are amputees, including myself.
This is all I've ever known and I never think of myself being disabled.
I've always led a full and active life.
And because I come from a family of others just like me, it's easy to think of myself as 'average' / 'normal', etc....whichever word anyone wants to use.
Personally, I've never been picky as to how people have discribed me....handicapped, crippled, disabled, gimp, whatever...
I'm not into being 'politcially correct', but I do have a wicked sense of humor.
;-) | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/27/2005 1:42:31 PM | | this is one thread I had to get into. I know catt have been to her home on several occasions. Shes a doll and a good friend of mine. My brother also has a limb missing. He has since the day after elvis died. I learned a lot after he lost his leg and it came to be a normal thing around the house. he has better ability to move than I do with two legs. Heck I can't fill a cup of coffee to the brim and walk with it but he can with one leg. As far as daing a lady that has a disability yes I would and not think a thing of it. If I want to know more about the disability I will ask. I have a frind that is in a wheel chair and has been since she was 17. was one of my first girl friends. I was the first to ever kiss her and she me. Any one that looks at a disability should place themselves in the other persons place. then think how they would feel. It is not a good feeling by any ways of the thought. Thsi disability can be anything if a person thinks of it from weight of too much to not enough, hair loss to to much hair. Loss of limb to extra parts. this goes on and on. All I am saying is think it out. but be honest with yourself above all else. | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/30/2005 4:42:35 AM | | It's sad that I just found out the disabled fellow I'm dating still wouldn't consider living together even, because it means between the two of us a loss of 100.00 survival money per month! | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 3/30/2005 5:24:45 AM | | Absolutely as long as there is chemistry. I just recently went on a date with someone who uses a wheelchair and wow! He is incredibly motivated and there is nothing and i mean nothing he cannot do! The only problem is that there is no chemistry between us for anything other than friendship. I beleive in givin each person a chance and not writing anyone off as "no good" based on a disability. Let's face it none of us are perfect no matter how much we strive to be and we need to get over it. | |
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| Would you date someone who is disabled.
Posted: 4/1/2005 12:03:49 AM | | Sad thing is, yes, I would without a doubt, but somehow I sense he just isn't into me as I am into him. Oh well. Time will tell. You can't force attraction or feelings. They come naturally or not at all. But I do know, I have a very good friend at the very least. | |
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