Date While Diseased: 7 shifts to find someone to slurp GF noodles with (I did!)

After 9 years mixing disabled dating, partnership, and singlehood, I HAVE THOUGHTS

I can’t walk around a block, go for a drink, grab takeout, or even follow a conversation half the time, but:

I still have a sweet partner who looks at me adoringly through my teenage-boy-style burps, makes me dinner when I’m in a brutalizing migraine, hugs me tight when insurance denies everything, and says things like “you’re due for a full body massage.”

And no, I didn’t have him before I got sick. I’ve dated off and on throughout the worst of my illness.

So for the record: yes, diseased people date (and no, you don’t have to settle for dingbats even if your connective tissue is acting like one.)

If you think you can’t date while diseased…but you want to…we need to discuss.

(If you don’t want to date…or kinda want to but know you’re not in a place to invest the spoons…then that’s GREAT too. Truly. I loved and needed my single sickie years, too.)

Here’s what people miss about diseased dating:

1. Relationships look a little different. They still count.

I’ve never been on a “real date” with my boyfriend. Usually, we hang out in pajamas, eat my safe foods, and maybe sit outside for a bit. If we kiss too hard, my neck goes out. I wish we could do more real couple things…and we’re still a real couple.

Famous ME patient Jamison Hill was too sick to speak when he “said” three little words to his girlfriend of 7+ years during their only real-life meeting. It counts.

Other ME “celebrity” Whitney Dafoe sparked off a few chat romances pretty much as soon as he “woke up” from years of near-coma-like illness—while still tube-fed, unable to tolerate clothes, eyes and ears usually covered.

Our drive to connect overpowers basic needs…because it is a basic need.

So whatever you’re up for (Reddit meet-cute, voice-note fling, housebound snuggles, Zoom co-naps, blowing all your spoons on going out on a date), it counts.

What could a works-for-your-life romance look like for you? I bet you a Meatscon there’s someone out there that’s into it. While *I* bemoan our lack of “real dates,” my boyfriend couldn’t care less and is happy with WHATEVER we do.

To quote June in Handmaid’s Tale, “In this place, you grab love wherever you can find it.”

My bf’s usual “date night” view: me, jammies, taking an hour to chew Safe Meal #2 with my two remaining functioning teeth. He has at least 50 pics like this.

2. You gotta pay for the apps. (I know, but hear me out.)

Where to meet available non-ableist cuties? You’re going to hate this: disabled or not, hardly anyone is asking anyone out IRL anymore. I already tried reaching for the same potatoes as cute dudes at Safeway while looking adorable. No dice.

I don’t make the rules; I just use the tools—and one of them is paying to circumvent the cruddy parts of online dating. Cut the line, skip the swiping (or hide your profile), and set your filters to your highest standards. I personally got zero *ahem* pics and plenty of engaging tea dates and a few romances with guys I actually liked this way.

My bf also shelled out, spending $2.99 to send me a compliment (which was the only way I was chatting with anyone.) If we both hadn’t ponied up on the apps, there is NO chance we’d be together now. (He gets grocery delivery.)

I know dating online is a tall order and there’s more to it, which is why I’m going to make a guide (Romance While Retching?) soon. Any big q’s I could answer? Obvi safety…

3. When you get comfy with your illness, your dates will too.

I thought I was claiming my illness when I worked up the lady cojones to order tea at bars without flinching. Good step, but let’s be honest: if I’d really owned my illness, I wouldn’t even BE at a bar, knowing it would crash me out for a week. With a flush of health faked entirely by blush and adrenaline, I steered the conversation around to my movie club, my business, past adventures—anywhere but the elephant in the room.

Needs? Never heard of ‘em.

Then when completely-healthy-looking-me dropped the disabled bomb three hangs in, the boys would bolt. (One stammered he had to finish his PhD. Like, right then?)

At first, this confirmed my secret fear of being sick and therefore undateable. I didn’t like this new version of my life or my self—why would anyone else?

But also, I was subjecting dates to a bait and switch. Of course they hated that.

New tactic: own my illness and tell people sooner. Not all the gory details, but no more tap-dancing around the truth. I started dropping a sentence or so in early texts to say: hey, I’ve got some limitations and they’re not small.

LITERALLY EVERY BOY WAS COMPLETELY FINE WITH IT.

Not only that, they were KIND. They asked thoughtful questions and offered conversational off-ramps. They brought groceries and cooked me safe dinners and did my dishes. Sure, there were a couple ableist gaffes, but fewer than you’d think.

They weren’t better boys. They were just better informed.

4. Dating is hard for EVERYONE—diseased or not.

Because there’s Dating While Divorced. Dating While Parenting. While Caring for Elderly Parents. While Widowed. While Newly Out. While In Debt. Unemployed. Broke. With Weird Hobbies. With Braces. While Never Married In Your 40s and Up.

Just like Dating While Diseased, none of these things are shameful or wrong. But EVERYONE (who is not Zendaya) at some point asks, “who would want to date someone like me?”

The answer is obvious to everyone except the person asking: duh. Other humans.

5. You bring your baggage with you…but you start unpacking the suitcases when you’re sick.

If you drooled over emotionally unavailable bad boys or leaned anxious before, you’re probably still going to do that. The difference is, illness forces you to level up now.

So you look at Trouble like an off-limit cheese plate…tasty, tempting, but not worth the flare. You ChatGPT attachment theory for the 34th time…but this round, you work on your own style instead of trying to change someone else’s.

The sicker I got, the healthier my dating decisions became. They had to. I STILL MAKE MISTAKES. But they’re newer, better ones. (Incrementally, I’m not perfect.)

Slowly, I’m downsizing from a bulging checked bag to a lighter carry-on.

6. You’re hotter than you realize.

When I first lost all my muscle tone, I thought no one would want to date me and my newly droopy butt. My bloated belly. My weird toenails. My falling-out hair.

AHAHAHAHAHA, what? That SO was not the case. From a purely physical standpoint, I look worse than I ever have in my life. And yet. My boyfriend thinks I’m “very smoochable” (according to this morning’s text). Honestly, so do I.

7. And your challenges make you all the more desirable.

Losing just about everything to illness makes you a more whole, interesting person.

Because who wants to date a perfect person who’s never had to struggle? You know the scene in Wicked where Fiyero meets Glinda:

“You’re perfect.” “You’re perfect!” “We’re perfect together!” And then BOTH these conventionally attractive hotties go after Elphaba instead, who is green and allergic to water and has bad eyesight and is about to board an even bigger strugglebus than the one she’s already been on her entire life. Because substance is DESIRABLE.

Most of us sickies have deepened our empathy, racked up our resourcefulness, become more forgiving, opened to community, and recalibrated to tiny joys. (Which doesn’t mean we wouldn’t take a miracle healing, yes, please!)

When we’ve been in the trenches, we can’t help but attract people who either crave and/or possess substance. Those looking for contra dancing partners or climbing buddies weed themselves out, making room for people who want to hang out with the real you. Even if you can’t go paragliding or cider tasting or cow tipping or whatever the kids do these days.

It’s not easy, but it can be the right kind of hard.

Dating While Diseased asks a lot from you: in my case, more honesty with myself and him than I’ve ever given before. (And as a patently terrible liar, I considered myself pretty damn honest before. This is more.)

That honesty has cut through the nonsense, sidestepped the shallow, and landed me in a relationship that actually fits—including my reality. I’m seen and supported.

And dating is just ONE way to be seen and supported. I was seen and supported in single years, too. I was challenged and grown in other ways then. Just because you CAN date while sicker than snot, doesn’t mean you HAVE to. Your life can be rich and full partnered, dating, single, or some in-between, and I truly mean that.

But if you do want to date, date. Your people are out there. They’re ready to cut up five bell peppers and put them in the freezer for you, pre-chopped for easy solo dinners later. They’re itching to ogle your furry, stage one lipedema legs. They want to take metaphorical walks around your interesting brain.

And they couldn’t care less how many functioning teeth you have.

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Dish in the comments, please:

1. If you’re sick and partnered, wanna share your story?

2. If you’re not dating but want to, what’s your biggest question? (I’ve been at it off and on for 9 years so I have thoughts!)

3. Single sickies who are intrigued: what if you just tried a week of paying for Bumble, owning your story, believing in your own hotness, and basically effing around and finding out? (Please come back and tell us about it!)

I only recommend what I love and use myself.

Wanna practice a key dating skill? Communicate your function level in just a grunt or two!

If you missed the whole post about it, The Meatscon is an editable template for YOUR personal function skill.

You need it. Your people need it. Just get it. Then make it your own. Anyone going through any sort of struggle can use it, sick or not. Pay what you want, including $0.

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• Get $100 when you open a new Ally account using this link. (Gives me $50, too.) Three deposits, no minimum. I’m so mad no one told me about high yield savings until I was nearly 40. (One reader said it worked on desktop, not on phone…heads up!)

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Imperfect Working Order is free for now! If you’re stirred to support and have the means, please consider enabling my dark chocolate addiction on MyRegistry.

I’m also saving up to swing my now-off-insurance ME/CFS doctor + therapist appointments via Venmo (kira-stoops).

You can also just comment, or even better, comment to another commenter below! The biggest gift would be to see a community of sickies spring forth here.

Big time gratitude in advance.