Man Comes on a First Date and Sees the Woman Is Disabled – Story of the Day

I went on a date with a guy from Tinder, and when we met for the first time, he rejected me as soon as he saw my wheelchair. However, our table was selected for a free dinner, so I spent the evening with him. Little did I know that the heartbreak had only just begun. My heart raced with anticipation as I sat at table 13, ready for my Tinder date with Alan. But as he arrived and I greeted him from my wheelchair, his smile faded to shock.”Sally? Wow. You didn’t mention… the wheelchair,” he stammered. “I didn’t think to,” I replied, hoping for understanding. “I wanted you to see me, not my wheelchair. Why, is there a problem?” “It’s just… that’s a big thing not to mention,” he said, his initial enthusiasm waning. “Don’t you think?”

“I wanted us to meet without assumptions,” I explained. Suddenly, Alan took out his phone and scrolled through something. “Not a single picture in a wheelchair. Lying by omission?” He glared at me. I could see he was enraged, his eyes red and fists clenched. “They-they were taken before the accident,” I whispered, the memory painful. I lost my ability to walk two years ago in an accident that took my parents away. “Nice try to get my pity,” Alan mocked me, his words cutting deep. “I’m not asking for pity,” I said, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m learning to accept myself again. I deserve a second chance at life. Just like everyone else.” “You can’t accept your disability, but I should? I wanted a proper date, not someone… in a wheelchair!” he retorted harshly. Alan’s cruel words stung, but I remained hopeful he’d understand. “I was scared you wouldn’t want to meet me if you knew,” I admitted. “You’re right,” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t have even thought of coming here. I wanted to go on a date with someone normal, not… defective!” His dismissal was a painful blow, but his calling me ‘defective’ ignited a fire within me.”You didn’t mention the wheelchair even in your bio!” he growled,his eyes again on his phone. Alan seemed so different in person, not the guy who’d impressed me with his poems and romantic talk on Tinder. He used to tell me I was beautiful. Maybe he had fallen for just my beautiful face. Maybe he wasn’t prepared to see me like this. It wasn’t all his fault. I should’ve told him earlier. But I was scared. As I mentioned, I was still learning to accept myself. “This entire weekend is ruined by your deception!” Alan erupted, snapping me to the moment. “You call yourself normal? You’re half a person at best!” His words stung, but I stood my ground. “I am normal! Being in a wheelchair doesn’t make me defective,” I declared. “You know what? Find someone as ‘defective’ as you,” he sneered, turning around when a waiter approached our table. Alan’s anger peaked as he bumped into the waiter, who announced a surprise dinner for us, celebrating us (table 13th) as the 10,000th guest and bringing a cake. “Great, table 13! I’d only heard it so far, but now I know for sure it brings bad luck,” Alan sneered, but I chose to embrace the moment. So what if I couldn’t go on a date with Alan? I could still enjoy the cake! I could still pretend I was… happy. “This is wonderful, thank you!” I exclaimed, looking at the delicious cake. To my surprise, Alan no longer wanted to leave. “Fine, then. Bring the menu, but I’ll sit elsewhere,” he told the waiter. He wanted the free meal, but not me. The waiter’s smile faltered slightly. “I’m afraid the celebration is only for table 13. Are you not together?” “Of course, we’re together!” I claimed, holding Alan’s hand, forcing him into the charade. Alan, caught off guard, stared into my eyes for a moment, his surprise evident as he took my hint. I wanted us to enjoy the complimentary treat. At least something more memorable for the night than nothing at all? I had fallen in love with Alan, and I loved him, despite his flaws. I did. Isn’t that what love is about?“Alright, yes, absolutely. We’ll have the menu then,” Alan conceded, and I smiled. Dinner proceeded in silence until I tried to start a conversation. “The food is really good, isn’t it?” I said, trying to lighten the mood. Alan ignored me until I mentioned basketball. “You watch basketball?” he asked, showing a hint of interest. A surge of excitement coursed through me. Alan spoke. He opened his mouth and struck up a conversation with me! Finally! Absolutely! I love it. I even have a jersey signed by LeBron,” I exclaimed, my voice bubbling with joy and eyes brimming with hope. But then, Alan’s joke about LeBron signing my jersey in the emergency room soured the moment, yet I held back tears, refusing to let his words hurt me further. As the suffocating silence threatened to consume us once more, the waiter’s voice boomed through the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our weekly lovebirds’ contest! Any couples feeling lucky tonight, let’s see those hands!” Despite Alan’s protests, I eagerly volunteered us, his reluctance clear. “Are you crazy? Put your hand down. I’m not doing this,” he objected. Ignoring him, I kept my hand up, and soon we were called to participate. On stage, the game involved identifying our partner by touch and removing the clothespins pinned to their dresses. “Got you,” I said, trying to remove the clothespins from Alan as soon as I found him. “We can’t lose this. You need to collect the pins fast,” Alan whispered, attempting to help. I was glad he was involved in the game. But we were disqualified for moving — Alan was supposed to stay still. Frustrated, he lashed out, calling me a “handicapped idiot.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I mumbled an apology, feeling utterly defeated. The waiter, noticing the tension, intervened, announcing a quiz round. Wiping away tears, I buzzed in with answers confidently. “Pacific!” I declared for the largest ocean, and “Taj Mahal!” for the symbol of eternal love. Alan, impressed by my knowledge, asked, “How do you know all this stuff?” “Two degrees and a thirst for knowledge,” I responded, proud and a bit flushed. At that point, his smile, warm and genuine, seemed like a silent apology, acknowledging my resilience and intellect despite the evening’s earlier tensions. Excitement peaked as the final quiz question was about Space Jam 2. Alan and I, now in sync, hit the buzzer together, shouting, “LeBron James!” Our correct answer united us in a brief, unexpected camaraderie. “Sally, you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. I’m sorry for being a jerk earlier,” Alan confessed, his earlier hostility replaced by admiration. But my heart shattered once again when I overheard a conversation in the hallway. Alan had excused himself after the game, and while he was heading to the washroom, he ran into his friend, Karl. Karl mocked a ‘disabled girl’s date, suggesting the man was doing it just for show. My heart sank as I realized he was talking about Alan and me. The worst part? Alan pretended like he wasn’t the man Karl was talking about. From our table, I could hear everything and hoped Alan would stand up for me. But to my dismay, he joined Karl and a group of women, ignoring me. “Sophia, ladies, meet Alan,” Karl announced, and Sophia swiftly said, “Isn’t that the guy with the disabled date? I saw them together while I was waiting for you to arrive, Karl.” “It was a misunderstanding… She’s nobody,” Alan replied, forcing a smile. I gathered my courage and approached their table. “Alan, are you ignoring me?” I asked, only to be rebuffed by Karl, “Oh, so you’re the girl in the wheelchair, huh?! Go away!” Despite feeling hurt, I tried to clarify, “Alan and I are on a date.” Alan’s dismissal was stark, leaving no room for hope. “There was no date, Sally. Just the contest. And free dinner. Please go away! I’m with my friends now,” he said coldly, laughter from his friends punctuating his rejection. I tried to reach out, “Alan, please…” but he was unyielding. “I don’t want to talk. I want to be with ‘normal’ people, Sally. Please go away!” Anger and hurt fueled my response, “Being ‘normal’ isn’t about just the body; it’s about having a good heart. And you are… heartless!” His final words cut deep, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to go alone.” And then, I saw something in his eyes. Guilt? But then, why wouldn’t you join me? Why just stand here feeling sad? Why give me false hopes? Left in tears, I considered leaving the café but was drawn back by the announcement of the karaoke challenge. “Finalists, prepare for the grand finale—the karaoke challenge!” On stage, with Alan gone, I doubted my participation. “My date, he… he left. Does this mean I’m disqualified?” The waiter encouraged me, “Not at all, Miss… The stage is all yours!” With newfound determination, I sang “You Are Only Mine,” pouring my heart into the performance, finding strength in my vulnerability. As I finished, Alan reappeared, mic in hand, his voice filled with remorse. “Sally,” he began, “I… I don’t know how to express how sorry I am. For everything.” His unexpected return and apology offered a glimmer of hope, a chance for understanding and, perhaps, forgiveness. “Hearing you sing, feeling the truth in your words… it made me realize how wrong I was. You opened my eyes, Sally. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. I was so wrong.” Could I trust Alan… again? “So, what now?” I asked, tears glistening in my eyes. His apology felt genuine, offering a glimmer of hope. “I was blind to who you truly are, Sally. I’m sorry. I want to give you, us a chance.” As the café’s music softened, Alan offered a dance, a gesture towards reconciliation. Hesitantly, I accepted, our dance, a silent conversation of regret and understanding. The waiter announced us as winners, our shared victory symbolizing our journey from misunderstanding to connection. Leaving the café, hand in hand, Alan and I reflected on the night, recognizing that true disability lies not in physical limitations but in the absence of empathy and understanding.

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