I recently got back into the dating world—sort of. I decided to stick with online dating, even though I hate it. What I hate is that the social interactions that tell you whether you’re attracted to someone are lacking in the online world, and you have to meet the guy in person to find out if he is anything at all like his profile. Also, personality can make even the best-looking guy very unattractive. As a result, in the last six or seven months, I’ve been on 16 first dates. No, this doesn’t mean I got a lot of free meals. I’m lucky if a guy buys me coffee, to be honest.
I’m still trepidatious about when to disclose information. One guy I went out with disclosed his multiple sclerosis in his online profile. That actually made me feel more comfortable to message him—and it inspired me to add my health issues to my profile. OK—not all of them. Then I got the “you’re brave” messages and cringed slightly.
One time, I inadvertently gave a guy my last name before our first date. He Googled me and read all of my HemAware blogs before we met. I realized this after he asked questions about topics he would only know about from reading my HemAware blogs.
Right now, I am not disclosing any medical information in my online dating profiles, but if a date asks where my blog is, I’ll tell them. If I never hear from them again, I know that my health stuff was too much.
Even when I’ve told guys about my health issues and they seem alright with it, it doesn’t mean they’ll stay OK with it. One experience has made me protective of myself and my health information. I liked one guy I’d been seeing for 1.5 months quite a bit, and we were at a point where we were only seeing each other, although no labels had been attached. We spent entire days together. Then I went in for a blood transfusion, and he dumped me as soon as I was out of the hospital.
No, this isn’t me re-telling the story of how I was dumped post-blood transfusion. It actually happened twice—with two different guys. (See “Crazy Little Thing Called... Yeah, This May Not Be Love.”) I’m fairly certain he wasn’t going to even tell me it was over. First he stopped responding to my text messages, and I wasn’t sure if he was getting my texts because hospital reception was spotty. But he got them. This was the worst timing for me, because the 500 milligrams of steroids I was given, along with my transfusion (during which I had complications, of course), made it really challenging to control my emotions. Not only was I dealing with insomnia because of the medication, but I also I kept thinking that anything good that was going to happen to me had already happened. Fortunately, I stopped feeling this way once the medication’s effects wore off.
I think there are people out there who would gladly date me if I were healthy, but my medical issues are just that added stress that makes it all too much. I also wonder if my strong qualities that make me able to deal with health issues also somehow make me a challenging significant other. I’ve been used to dealing with my health crises by myself for my entire life. I realize that this fierce independence is good, but a relationship is a partnership. I don’t know how to let someone else in on those decisions. I don’t know how to allow myself to be cared for. Some guys like that independent streak, and they like how dedicated I am to projects I work on. However, I can’t always go on adventures. I can’t always keep up.
My friend recently pointed out a thought process of mine in regards to marriage that he found to be rather warped. I don’t want to get married until I have a full-time job that allows me to pay my own health bills unassisted. I’m on Supplemental Security Income now, so that is a bit of a leap. My friend thinks that marriage is a partnership, so individual costs shouldn’t matter. I just see my health costs as a potential point of resentment, and I wouldn’t want to be dependent on anyone else. And if my partner wants children, we’d have to make enough money to adopt. That’s probably not something initially on the table for most couples.
At times, I look at my peers having children as a luxury. I often think to myself, I’d be fine with just not getting married and instead being in a long-term committed relationship. I’d be fine with not adopting kids. Then I wonder how many concessions I make in what I really want so that maybe I’ll find love. I don’t really think in terms of timeline, but I’m not actually sure what I want anymore. Is it OK to just figure it out as I go?
I wonder how often we make sacrifices or concessions for what we really want because of our health. I know I have a lot of great qualities as a potential girlfriend. I am looking forward to meeting the person who sticks around—because someone who wants to be incorporated into my chaotic life is going to be quite the person.