‘You’ve got a match!”

My phone makes that familiar chime; the one that never fails to immediately interrupt my train of thought as I sit at my desk typing away, stating that a new match — for the sake of this column we’ll call him J — has messaged me. “I love your glasses!” The message reads.

I type out a quick response before I can think better of it. “Why, thank you! I like them too because otherwise, I’d be blind without them, haha.” “Lol, you’re cute and have a sense of humor!” “I have many different sides to me. ;)” “I hope I get to see them all… :)” The flirty banter continues.

I get wrapped up in it, but then my reality takes hold the minute he mentions potentially meeting.

My palms sweat as I type out the one message that will determine my mood for the remainder of the week. A variation of the text that I once spent days agonizing over in my head, but now have to mention in the first day of talking for the sake of my own mental stability, might read: “I was diagnosed with a neuromuscular disability when I was less than a year old. I have to use a wheelchair because my arms and legs are weak. I just wanted to be up-front in case any of this is a deal-breaker for you.”

He assuages my anxieties, in that moment, by saying how he’s very open-minded and lightening the tone by saying how he would be very open to learning about my care if it means that he and I could be alone together. J and I talked pretty much constantly over the next couple of days until he ghosted me out of the blue.

It hurts, not as much as the first time, but it still leaves a scar. I can’t help but spiral, because the common denominator in all of these experiences is me.

I’m aware that the idea of me meeting someone out in the real world is even less realistic than meeting someone on a dating app because as a young woman who uses a wheelchair, it’s not as though I have men even noticing me on the rare occasions when I venture out in public. So I keep coming back once the scars begin to scab over just enough to forget about the emotional pain from the last time a boy gutted me.

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Each time, I think maybe it will work out this time. However, each time, I am proven wrong; that the fairytale doesn’t exist for people like me.

And every time it happens, it takes everything in me to not believe the voice, which incessantly chirps in the back of my head — that no man could ever genuinely want me.

According to Psychology Today, fear and anxiety are classic trauma responses. But instead of being from an active war zone, it is at the hands of insensitive boys on a dating app who only pretend to care about me. While dating is by no means easy for any young woman; it poses its own, unique set of challenges for disabled women. Because to try to put it simply, most disabled people lead unconventional lives, which does intimidate the majority of men on dating apps.

But more than anything, I want to remain hopeful that my person is out there. I want to believe that I will find my fairytale, someday; because it’s something that I’ve dreamed about since I was a little girl. And I don’t think my physical condition should make me any less deserving of finding it.

I heard the saying recently, “Everything’s that meant for you, will find its way to you, effortlessly.” In the context of finding love, it’s one that has stayed with me.

As a result of my previous unsavory dating experiences, I often find myself vacillating on the concept of love existing on a daily basis; where I’m afraid of letting another man in, because I’m afraid they will reject me like each one has before. However, a slightly larger part of me refuses to give up on the fact that my person is out there, somewhere.

And I know when I find him all of my pain will make sense. But having faith in the bigger picture can be really challenging most days.

Gazette columnist Joanna Buoniconti is a freelance writer and editor. She is currently pursuing her master’s at Emerson College. She can be reached at columnist@gazettenet.com.