Dating with a disability is not for the feint-hearted

Dating is not for the faint-hearted. Particularly in the modern world of dating apps and social media. As we prepare for the big meet-up or reveal, we worry if our online profile will stand up to real-life scrutiny and the reality of an actual face-to-face encounter.

In many cases, the act of turning up to a cafe, bar or restaurant to meet someone we’ve only ever spoken to online brings out our insecurities and makes us feel vulnerable. We worry if we look right or are funny, smart or outgoing enough for our online “perfect match”.

Imagine how those insecurities might get amplified when you turn up to a first date on a grown up’s red trike!

When I was first introduced to my life partner, Maurizio Esposito, he was executive chef of Melbourne’s top fine-dining restaurant, Cecconi’s on Flinders Lane. I had recently arrived from the US and lived about 100 metres away from the restaurant. My friend Marisa said, “You must meet him! He’ll look after you.” I was rake thin and in need of looking after, so was happy to visit the restaurant, and it quickly became my refuge.

After long days at work, I often found myself sitting alone at a beautifully starched white linen table for two, being fed the most divine Italian food I had ever eaten. Maurizio and his brigade of extraordinary wait staff and chefs made me feel welcome. No one ever commented or made me feel self-conscious about my walking stick and considerable limp from multiple sclerosis.

Of course, not commenting on my walk should have been a given, but it wasn’t. Every cab I got into, or waiting in line at the market, I would be questioned or commented on. “Are you a cripple?” a man once asked as I was waiting for a coffee. Instead, Maurizio and his team never batted an eyelid, but whenever someone noticed me coming slowly down the steep staircase to the entrance, they jumped to hold the door and greeted me with open arms.

We talked until it was closing time and then he said he’d walk me home. I panicked and made an excuse, but he insisted.

Six months later, when Maurizio finally asked me out on a proper date, I wasn’t worried about him seeing me with a walking stick. But I did worry he’d never seen how I got around town on my big red trike. So on the evening of our first date, I made sure I arrived early and hid my wheels behind a tree about 20 metres away from the restaurant where we had planned to meet.

It was a magical evening. He ordered me champagne and fed me oysters which he’d come to know were one of my favourite foods from eating at his restaurant. We talked until it was closing time and then he said he’d walk me home. I panicked and made an excuse, but he insisted. “I’m Italian, of course I must walk you home. My mother would kill me if I didn’t,” he said, laughing.