There are some cool strangers out there

Last Monday, I was on my way home (to my actual home, not the dorm) after my first, and painful final exam of the semester.  I needed to get my eye drops from my mom.  And even though it was one of those days of near continuous rain, I was excited because I was at last finished with U . S.  History class, and for the home-cooked meal I knew awaited me.

My excitement started to dim, however, upon entering the subway and hearing the announcements about train delays and rerouting.  But I took it in stride and decided to stick with the messed up train line rather than walking in the rain to another station.

A few stops before Bowling Green, the last stop in Manhattan, the conductor made an announcement informing us that we wouldn't know whether or not the train would be heading into Brooklyn until we'd gotten to the stop.  I, and many of the other patrons on the train, were not pleased.  So, as I mentally cursed at myself for my laziness, I got off of the train and planned my next actions.  I knew I could transfer to the train I needed at that station, I just didn't know where the train was.  But as I adjusted my bag and prepared to ask someone for directions, someone approached me instead.

"Hey," the person said.  "Are you trying to get to another train?" Or that was the jist of what he asked.

I said yes, told him which train I needed and asked if I could take his arm after he offered to assist me.  As we walked, we talked, about writing, irritation with the train, school, the city.  It was fun (well, as fun as a meandering journey through a big train station can be).  But it was a nice, normal conversation.  He even gave me a few suggestions on how to get into freelance editing.

There was one point, near the end of our interaction, that I thanked him for not taking on that patronizing tone people tend to use with children.  He may have thought it a little odd, but took it in stride.  I don't encounter many people, strangers in particular, who talk to me as though I'm a normal person.  It's usually "you're so brave..." or "I can't even imagine..." or, even when discussing school or occupation, there's sometimes a condescending air about the person.  It may not be intentional but its there.

But that's not the point of the post.  With the many irritating experiences I rant about, I like to acknowledge the good or entertaining moments (like my letter to Margaret and Roman or that time a waiter acknowledged me).  Even if they seem simple or silly.  It's nice to know that, despite what we're taught as children, there are some cool strangers out there.

Looks Like I'm Home

"Do you want some?" I'm asked, as a bowl is thrust into my hands.

"What is it?" I reply, a little startled.

"Just eat it."

For a fully-sighted person, or simply someone with better vision than mine, they might be able to make a guess as to the contents of the bowl.  I, however, do not possess enough vision to do this.  So I ask again, and am met with:

"You don't want it?"

"Well, I don't know what it is."

At this point, I'm either told, with great irritation what it is, or it's taken away to be offered again later, with an agitated explanation of what it is.

"Here, smell this." She might say sometimes, quickly brushing something beneath my nose.

I lift my hand to hold it, figure out what it is, and position it better for optimal sniffing, but my hand is pushed aside.

"Just smell it."

* * *

Those, my darling readers, weren't the actions of some ignorant person on the street.  But, rather, the actions of my ignorant mother.  It sounds harsh, I know, but it is truth.  The incidents above have been happening for as long as I can remember.

It's happened a few times with other people, maybe not strangers but family members I don't know as well.  Perhaps they view it as a sort of game.  I don't.  And if I express any discontent, it's never met with understanding, at least from my mother.

The vignettes above are only two examples of her...  lack of understanding, I guess.  It's a phrase you probably wouldn't expect from the parent of a legally blind person.  But it's more common than you might think.

With regard to some things, my father's understanding and approach to my vision is better than my mother's: he's always pushed for me to ask for Braille menus at restaurants (an early form of advocacy), he used to describe the placement of my food as though the plate were a clock face (I always forget to ask where he learned that), and, as I discovered on Thursday, he agrees with my attitude and is entertained by the encounters I have with strangers.  That last is was discovered during a conversation we-my mother, father, godfather, and I-had on our drive home from my dorm.  I was regaling them with tales of people grabbing my arm at street corners, or grabbing my arm and insisting that I sit on public transportation, or grabbing my arm...  well, this could go on for a while.  But the conversation had started after my mom had expressed embarrassment when I asked for a Braille menu in the restaurant we'd gone to.  She'd said it once in the restaurant, and then again in the car.  It always embarrassed her when I did it, she said, to which my father responded: "she's entitled to it."

She also expressed "embarrassment" at my responses to strangers.  When I tell someone I don't need help, or that I don't wish to be prayed for.  She feels I should just go with it.  They mean well.  I should know when to ask for help, there was nothing wrong with that.  She didn't want to acknowledge, however, that there was a difference between soliciting assistance and being offered it, often forcefully, regardless of whether or not I need it.

She cited a few instances, even one that I happened to writ about a few years ago. Check it out here if your interested.

Some of my mother's actions and beliefs can be attributed to typical parental behavior.  She worries about me traveling, okay, normal.  She still checked in on and warns my twenty-eight-year-old sister about travel hazards.  She even still looks over and commented while my sister is cooking, offering often unwanted opinions.  But she doesn't follow my sister downstairs, and take the box of juice out of her hands to pour it.

So, all of that to say...  it looks like I'm back home.  And as you can tell, I'm none to excited about it.  But at least my sister understands (even though she's gone this first, painful weekend, she'll be back).  And my Godmother will be visiting in a few weeks.

I'm not going on any vacations: just working and taking a summer class.  So I'll be dealing with arguments over traveling (the three straight blocks to the train station), cooking/getting food for myself, talking on the phone late (if she hears my voice in the hall), etc, for the next two months.

Yay me (London Tipton voice)...  I hope you guys get that reference.

Well, happy Memorial Day (weekend)

Dating A Blind Person: "I Don't Think I Do That."

On line dating.

Despite there being millions of people signed into at least one such app or website at any given moment, there's still some lingering stigma surrounding the process. I was one of those people who thought it was crazy.  I still am, a little.  But with everyone's faces constantly pressed to a screen, or with voiceover in their ears, "how the hell else are we supposed to meet people?" a friend once queried.  But even online dating isn't a fool proof way to get to know folks.  And possibly find your one true love/soul mate (if that's your thing).

Most of my conversations die after a few days.  Even the ones that last longer eventually die.  With that said, however, in the past year, I have gone on two app-initiated dates.

The first, was, to put it mildly: atrocious.  The guy played dominoes for hours-literally-while my friend and I texted each other back-and-forth about the whole thing (I'd brought her along because, well, I was going on my first informal date with a stranger).  The second was a few weeks ago, and it was, ehh.  The guy and I talked for hours and then never spoke again.

In between those times, I did meet a young man in person.  But that didn't work out either.  He had way too much going on.  And then, after disappearing for a few months, reappeared wondering if I'd treat him to lunch so we could talk.  That thought wasn't very appealing, especially since I'd begun to get a little bored before we'd stopped communicating.

Over the last year and some change, I periodically forgot about or voluntarily stopped checking the two apps I was using (now only one).  But when I returned, I would strike up conversations or respond to missed messages.

The person this post involves, let's call him Joe, had messaged me about a week or so ago.  But my responses were usually a few days in coming because of school.  But Wednesday was different.  I was actively responding, and we'd taken our chat to one of those texting apps.

Conversation was going well until he sent me a photo of himself.  My response,, at the end of replying to his other messages was: also, fun fact, I'm visually impaired so pictures mean little to me.

Now, I must admit, I always derive a sort of morbid pleasure from the "big reveal".  Most people seem to ignore my eyes, assuming their contacts, or just focusing on my chest (I've gotten a few messages wherein, shortly after starting a conversation, someone would mention something about my boobs).  So I would bring up my vision whenever I felt the time was right/an opportunity presented itself.  Though there were a few times where I got a blunt "what's up with your eyes", or, more cautious, "so are those contact lenses".  Then they might ask "so how (the fuck) are you texting me?"-give or take the expletive.  Or they'd ignore or gloss over it.  and I would sometimes have to bring it up in later conversation because of the latter reasons.

But this experience was different.  After telling the guy my fun fact, he said:

Oh damn.  Followed shortly by: Um, I'm sorry I wasn't prepared for that.  I don't think I do that.  My dog is blind and I'm struggling with him.   I don't think I can do a relationship with a blind person.

As I retype his words for your reading pleasure, something stands out to me now that I didn't notice before.  "I don't think I do that"? What does that even mean? It's as though I asked him to do jumping jacks on a tight rope.

In the moment, however, I was too focused on the second half of his message which prompted the following response:

LOL, well, I'd like to put it out there that there is a difference between a blind person and pet but, I get it I suppose.

My "lol" came from shocked amusement, further explained in the rest of my message.  So, your pet is blind, and, because of this, you don't feel you can date a blind human? But on the same token, I guess he doesn't know how independent or dependent blind people are/can be.  His next message: I hope you understand my perspective sorry I just couldn't imagine a life with you, had me shuddering.

Whoa.  First of all, who was talking about a life? I cringed a little mentally but didn't voice my feelings.  And our conversation continued for a few more messages, with me telling him that it was fine. And that  I guessed it was a curveball for both of us; for him, it was learning I was blind and for me, well...  I guess learning that he wasn't okay with it.

One of my favorite blind YouTubers, Molly Burke, made a video about a Tinder experience wherein a guy was uncomfortable with the thought of dating a blind person.  And watching it, I could imagine someone feeling that way, just going off of people's reactions to me in the streets.  Sometimes they can't seem to fathom how I even exist without collapsing in terror at traveling the big city with very little vision.  But it was a little surprising to experience it for myself.  And as I told him, I thought it was so silly.  Maybe I'm a little biased but it seems crazy for someone to just decide this type of person is off limits.  But with that said, everyone has their preferences, right? I like tall guys. Or is it different? Because blind people come in all colors, shapes and sizes. So is it preconceived biases then, that get in the way?

The next thought I had, that I didn't share with him was that this was great material for the blog.  Especially since I haven't written in a while (sorry about that, by the way).

The guy also told me, a few hours after I didn't respond to his last message: also your eyes have that stereotypical blind appearance.

So is the problem my lack of vision and its accompanying misconceptions? Or is it the appearance of my eyes and possibly what others might think? Should I have asked those things instead of saying what I did next?

They do. But that's actually a very rare… look, for lack of a better term. My eyes are that way from lack of pigment and corneal scarring as a baby

And after some thought, I added: I think I've only ever encountered one other person whose eyes were like mine. And what was also interesting was that he was fully blind where I have some vision in one eye.

His last message was Ok, that's interesting.

Belatedly, I realize that I should probably have asked as many questions about his perception of a blind person as I could.  Perhaps I could have dissuaded him or at least gotten him to acknowledge that you can't write off an entire group of people…  because of your dog.  But maybe, despite my cool reaction, I was a little shocked.

We'd exchanged only a handful of messages so I had no emotional investment in this.  (My friends might tell you that I might not have been emotionally invested even after weeks of messaging, but let's not talk about that.) But it was still shocking, for lack of an equally fitting term.

Maybe I could have introduced it better? But I don't see my vision as a big deal.  I realize that some people do but I've come to learn that if I don't approach it as this, big thing (because it isn't), then people won't, usually, treat it like it is.  Sometimes they might still be uncomfortable, but ask questions.  And sometimes they just ignore it.  However they choose to handle it, I think it matters most how I feel and approach it.  And the "fun fact" thing is how I've approached it in the past.

But, enough of me, I should be studying for finals anyway. So what do you all think?