CHRIS
When I arrived at Luther College as a freshman, I wondered if the girl for me might be in one of my classes or cheering for me at football games. Before I could even think about trying to meet her, boom, I mistimed a tackle, broke my neck, and life as I knew it changed in an instant. Suddenly, all the things I thought girls cared about—my athleticism, my strength, my ability to protect them—the things I thought made me attractive, were gone. The way I saw it, everyone just thought of me as the guy in the wheelchair.
I thought that because there were days when that was how I felt about myself. My injury changed a lot about me, but it did not change my desire to find love. But deep down I wondered if it was ever going to happen for me. Late at night when I had trouble sleeping, the same worries with which I wrestled in the hospital right after my accident came back to haunt me. Lying in the dark, I wondered how any girl could ever love me in my condition. Let’s face it, anyone who decided to be with me was signing up for helping me shower, get dressed, and even use the bathroom for the rest of her life. What kind of person would be willing to do that?
Over time I slowly learned that physical abilities weren’t at the top of every girl’s priority list. The more people I met and got to know, the more I realized that people cared more about who I was and who I was trying to become than my chair. I started to accept that someone could like me for my personality and what I did for others. Still, I had trouble getting past my physical limitations and dependence on others. In the early days after my accident, I struggled to fully accept myself. My unspoken question was: Even if I could fully accept myself, could anyone else? These feelings were driven home every time a doctor recommended that my parents install a ramp at their house or that I buy a handicap-accessible van. Why would we do that when I’m not going to need them forever? I thought. I tried to convince myself that my condition was temporary, even though I knew it wasn’t. I felt as if I needed to walk again to truly be myself and have the life I’d always wanted.
All of this swirled around in my head as I eased back into college life post-accident. I had my eyes open for a girl who sparked my interest while also wondering if my limitations might scare that girl away. My standards for the girl of my dreams were pretty high. I always told myself I would never date a girl I couldn’t see myself marrying. Setting the bar that high, plus my own insecurities, combined with the fact that Luther College is pretty small, meant that a year after returning to campus, I was still single.
I was thinking about all this late one night while hanging out with my buddy A.P., watching Jimmy Kimmel. The two of us weren’t talking too much, just watching the show, which gave me time to think. I looked around and it hit me: I have eight or more friends who all pitch in to help me at school, but once I graduate, will one person be able to handle all the responsibilities? And where am I going to meet that “one person”? I certainly don’t have any prospects now. Once I go out into the real world, it will be even harder to meet someone. Time is ticking, but I also don’t want to force anything.
Thankfully the TV show distracted me enough to pull me out of that dark place. The person Kimmel was interviewing told a funny story about her friend who signed up for a dating website that rated you on whether you’re beautiful or not before you could get into the site. A.P. snorted with laughter. “Oh my gosh. That’s a real thing? That website probably crushes a lot of people’s confidence. If you lack self-esteem, that might not be a good dating site.”
“I wonder how harsh they really are,” I said. “Like, how depressing would it be to think you’re a ten and get rejected from a beautiful people website?”
“You know what we should do? We should make a profile and see if they vote us in.”
“Yes!” I could always count on A.P. to come up with something hilarious. He was already pulling up the website on his phone when another guy from the cluster wandered out of his room.
“You know, it’s not really the same thing, but a lot of people are using this other app to meet girls,” our friend said. He’d clearly overheard what we were talking about. “It pulls up people who live within a certain distance from you. If you think a girl is cute and she thinks you’re cute, you match up and start a conversation.”
My ears perked up. I’d just been complaining that the dating pool at Luther College was too shallow. Maybe this app was the answer.
We all created profiles. It didn’t take long for me to match up with girls, and I was so excited that I didn’t waste any time before starting conversations with them.
But the results were disappointing.
Every conversation sputtered and died after exchanging a few messages. My “matches” and I never even shared phone numbers, much less actually met. I decided the whole thing was a waste of time. I still checked the dating app from time to time when I was bored, and I messaged matches here and there, but overall, I was discouraged.
A few months later, I happened to see the profile of a girl named Emily Summers. She was absolutely beautiful. But I didn’t let myself get too excited since every other so-called match had ended poorly. Even though I knew nothing was going to happen, I decided to go ahead and send her a halfhearted, “Hey, what’s up?” message. Who knows? Maybe she’ll respond, I thought, then went back to hanging out with my friends.
I was halfway through my morning the next day when I finally got around to checking the app to see if she had replied. She had, but with a noncommittal, “What are you doing?” Oh, that was quick, I thought. I replied with something about getting ready for the day, then hit send. Like I said, I had no faith in this app and zero expectations that these casual texts might develop into an actual conversation.
We exchanged a few more small-talk messages, nothing memorable, until I mentioned my foundation. I was getting ready for an event, which is why I brought it up. I didn’t think much of it until Emily asked why I started the foundation. I told her I had a neck injury. I kept my answers short. I figured if she really wanted to know more, she could Google me.
And that’s exactly what she did.
My first sign of hope came when Emily told me she was passionate about helping people too. I could tell she wasn’t just saying this, because her passion radiated from her enthusiastic messages. Now my interest was piqued. She didn’t sound like any other girl I’d talked to.
She sent me a message asking about my foundation and my story. She said lots of nice things about me, but that’s what everyone does. Since my accident, multiple girls had seemed interested in me, but I came to find out most found me inspiring but had no interest in me romantically. I figured this was just more of the same.
Then she asked me something that caught me off guard: “How’s your recovery going, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Believe it or not, no one outside of my closest friends and family ever asked me anything like that. Most people are too scared to broach the subject. They don’t know what language to use or how to be sensitive, so more often than not, I found they simply steered clear altogether. I don’t know if people think I’ll be embarrassed or hurt if they draw attention to my injury, but it’s usually a taboo subject.
Not for Emily.
She straight-up asked the question, and I was glad. I appreciated that she wanted to know. I told her I’d been doing some walking with help from equipment. I even shared my goal of walking across the stage for graduation, something that drove me more than I let on to most people.
She asked about my accident and how I got through it. Her question took our conversation to a whole new level. I tried not to let the conversation be all about me. I asked her questions too and genuinely cared about what she said. But she kept coming back to my situation. Then she asked me something no girl had ever asked me before. “I’m just wondering,” Emily wrote, “do you think everything happens for a reason?”
Whoa, I thought. In the months I’d used this app, I’d only had surface-level conversations. I figured that’s what the app was for until Emily and I started talking. I would have been scared to ask a stranger such a personal question. Emily just went right for it after only talking for a few hours. To me, her questions revealed Emily as a selfless girl who was actually interested in me and who I was. I felt more drawn to her with every message she sent and every question she asked. There is something comforting about addressing an insecurity.
Emily and I continued messaging back and forth through the dating app, but I wanted more. After a few days of talking, I took a deep breath and put myself out there. “Well hey, this app really drains my phone’s battery. If you want to talk more, text me!”
And I gave her my number.
I worried that it was too soon or that I would never hear from her again. Relief flooded over me when my phone vibrated with a text from a number I didn’t recognize. “This is Emily!” it said.
A week later I knew I had to meet this girl. At first I’d messaged her because I thought she was beautiful. Now I knew she was even more beautiful on the inside. Her heart and her passion made her irresistible. She seemed like the real deal, like the kind of girl I’d always hoped to find. I hoped this could lead to something serious.
I didn’t want to seem overeager, so I decided to delay my messages instead of responding instantly. In my mind, girls want you more when you play it cool. I also wanted her to know I had a life and had things going on other than staring at my phone all day. Maybe that explains why I was still single. I didn’t know much about girls or how to be romantic.
“What are you up to this weekend?” I asked her, trying not to sound as desperate to know as I actually was.
“I’m moving back into school!” she said. “I can’t wait to get back, but it’s going to be so hot. I’m not looking forward to carrying all my stuff up and down all those stairs!”
She’s moving in at Iowa State, my mind raced. I have friends who go there. Surely I can come up with a reason to be there too, so we can finally meet. Suddenly, I came up with a brilliant idea. I shot a text to my friend at Iowa State, and within a few minutes, I had made plans to visit him and convinced a friend to drive me the three hours to get there.
I texted Emily. “No way, I’m visiting my high school friend at Iowa State this weekend too!” Yep, total coincidence. “I’d love to meet up with you.”
I felt nauseated as I waited for her to respond. Why did I do that? I thought. This was a huge mistake. She’s going to be totally freaked out by my pushing to meet so soon and never talk to me again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
When I saw her response, it was all I could do not to shout, “Yes!” She said she’d love to see me! Not only had I not scared her off, we were going to meet face-to-face.
We didn’t make solid plans, but I thought I would see her that Friday night or Saturday. However, she was still moving into her apartment that Friday night and couldn’t come. The following day when I asked her to come to my friend’s house, she said she wasn’t comfortable going to someone’s house she didn’t know when she didn’t have a friend who could come with her. Looking back, I completely understand. But that day I was consumed with worry. Here I thought we’d made plans when really she was just being nice. Now that it was time to actually meet, she was going to find every excuse in the book to back out. Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not going to work out, I told myself.
But then again . . . maybe she wasn’t making excuses. I just needed to come up with a better plan on where to meet.
Then I read her next text. “Where does your friend live?” she said. “I could pick you up and we could grab something to eat.”
At first I laughed. Not only would my chair not fit in her car, but she also had no idea of all it took to get me in and out of vehicles. Then a knot formed in my stomach. She really didn’t know what she was getting herself into by meeting me. I’d never tried to hide my condition, but I hadn’t made it super obvious in my app profile either. Maybe she thinks I’m pretty much recovered, I thought. She doesn’t understand that I can hardly move my arms, let alone my legs. She has no concept of how much help I need to get around. When she sees me, she’s going to be out the door. Since having her pick me up was not an option, I scrambled to come up with something better.
“Tell her to meet you in at Campustown Square,” my friend said. “There are always a ton of people there. Tell her you’ll bring your friends too so she’s not alone with you. We can go to Superdog. I’m up for a hot dog anyway.”
Yes. Perfect. I threw out the suggestion to her and was relieved when she agreed.
I realized it was too late to back out now. If my condition scared her off, then this relationship was never meant to be. We agreed to meet at Superdog, and I was a nervous wreck. I wanted everything to be perfect. Then an hour before I was supposed to meet her, we were at the Campustown student apartments when a friend’s hand slipped as he held up my cup for me to take a drink. Pop spilled all over my shirt, leaving not just a huge wet mark but also a distinct smell.
“I am so sorry, man,” my friend said.
“No, it’s my fault.” I was so mad at myself. “This is going to be so embarrassing. I don’t think she’s going to be interested anyway. And now I’m a mess.”
“Come on, it’ll dry,” he said. “Let’s go outside and wait. It’s going to be fine.”
I hoped he was right. When he and another friend went with me to Superdog, I told them to sit on a bench close by so if I got shot down, I could get out of there quickly.
Then I waited.
And waited.
I checked my phone constantly, wondering if she was really going to show up. I squinted into the distance, trying to make her appear.
Then I saw her walking across the street, coming straight toward me. Immediately, my heart pounded. My jaw dropped. She was even more beautiful in person than I had anticipated. I’d seen her profile picture and photos on Facebook, but her smile, her eyes, everything was even more striking in person. Seeing a woman this gorgeous walking toward me gave me butterflies.
“Hey!” Emily greeted me. I wasn’t sure what I should do, but a handshake didn’t seem quite right. I took a risk and lifted my arms for a hug. Luckily, she reciprocated. Her long brown hair tickled my neck as she leaned in.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I said, meaning it way more than she knew.
“Wow, I can’t believe it’s really you!” she said. Her smile was downright electric. I had to take a deep breath to collect myself enough to form whole sentences.
“So, are you all moved in?” I asked, which started the small talk of catching up. The whole time, her eyes never darted to my hands or legs. If she looked at the chair, I didn’t notice. She was looking me right in the eyes, like there was nothing wrong with me. I was blown away.
After hanging out at Superdog for a while, I finally felt confident enough to ask her to come to my friend’s house to hang out.
“Yeah, that sounds great,” she said.
While I was relieved, I wondered if she could possibly keep seeing me and not my wheelchair. As the night went on, I braced myself for her to make up a reason to leave early. But she came to my friend’s house. She met my friends. She was a natural conversationalist with everyone she met and had an incredible energy.
When my friend suggested a card game, Emily jumped in and challenged me. “You might not know this, but I am a good card player,” she bragged.
“Oh, really?” I laughed. “You’re setting the bar pretty high there.”
“I’m pretty confident you won’t be disappointed.” She winked. “I am a very competitive person. I hate losing.”
I couldn’t believe how well this was going. I kept waiting for her to be scared off or for something embarrassing to happen. I had told my friends to stay nearby to stave off disaster. One fun fact about being paralyzed from the shoulders down is that I have to use a urinary leg bag, which basically means I am attached to a portable toilet at all times. To make life even more interesting, I was not strong enough to empty it myself. Someone else had to do it for me. I needed a friend with me in case I needed my leg bag emptied that night. Not only that, my upper body was still super weak. I had wanted my friend there to push me so I didn’t look helpless or make her feel like she had to help me. I even had him suggest a simple game in which you guess if someone’s card is higher or lower, so I never had to worry about holding a single card.
But aside from me knocking over a drink, the night went smoothly. I couldn’t believe the two of us were actually hanging out. I was floating on cloud nine. Emily was way out of my league. She was so beautiful, with such a huge heart. She was way too good for me. Yet she wasn’t running. She wasn’t staring at my chair. And she seemed genuinely interested in me.
When we hugged goodbye, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time. I had a feeling that this night was a great start to something special.
Looking back, I now know I had a lot to learn. It didn’t even occur to me to suggest that I accompany her to her car or at least text her and ask if she made it home safely. I hadn’t yet learned how to think of another person’s needs before my own. Thankfully, Emily looked past my thoughtlessness. I didn’t know how to be in a relationship, but I would soon find out.