Social mixers usually aren’t for me, but I took a risk and it paid off
In a bid to keep the past in the past, I had to overcome my fears
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I don’t talk to my ex anymore. For the sake of this column, I will have to let her know about it as a courtesy. But as far as a daily choice goes, it’s not one I make anymore.
Readers who’ve kept up with my column in the last few years may be surprised. She was, after all, the most important person to me, even after we ended our romantic dynamic. Or maybe you saw it from a mile away, and thought, “Who stays friends with their exes? That friendship is a train wreck waiting to happen.” You wouldn’t be the first.
Nor would you be completely wrong. The wreck, for better or worse, was caused by life, though. She wasn’t at fault, nor was I. We simply couldn’t continue the way we were continuing. It happens.
You can imagine the vacuum left in her absence. It’s hard to find long-term friends when you have SMA, and it’s as brutal as a superhero fight to find a committed romantic partner. To find someone who’s both and more, who you’d describe as a long-lost twin? It’s like losing an organ in an ambulance crash.
My psychologist suggests that I might romanticize my ex and our relationship too much. Maybe I do. All I know is, our childhoods were rooted in similar conventions and our goals branching into adulthood intertwined surprisingly. And I have yet to find another who’ll not only never judge me for all my quirks, flaws, and wounds, but will happily take full responsibility to educate themself on everything about me because they want to, including my SMA.
Anyone who isn’t sure of the relationship standards they deserve should take note.
A recipe for something new
But the deeper the vacuum, the harder it is to fill. The past six months, I’ve cyclically wondered if I’ll always be haunted by the specter of what should be in the past. In therapy, I likened it to a goose dish I had in Hong Kong — how do you satisfy a craving for something you can’t recreate?
It doesn’t help that the matches I’ve met on dating apps never followed through on our plans. I had to change my approach. So I decided to attend mixers in person.
I’m not usually one for socializing at parties. Dinners or events hosted by a small group of friends or my family are one thing, but a venue full of people I don’t know is another. It’s almost always likely the bodies in the room have never met one like mine, and they wouldn’t know how to interact with a wide-eyed girl in a wheelchair. I’d either have to teach them or be left by my lonesome.
From the second I started my makeup routine to getting off the bus at my first mixer, childhood memories of watching my peers play musical chairs without me loomed large. I repeatedly asked myself what I was doing. No one wants to be the ghost lurking in the corner while every other creature comes alive with the starry sky. But if I was going to try something new, I had to tell myself, “Whatever happens, happens anyway.”
Stranger things
Once I was settled at an empty table (one of the few low enough for my wheelchair), I bid my caregiver to go explore neighboring shops while I mingled. I glanced around. Everyone else had gathered into their own clusters. It felt like my fears of ending up alone would cement that night.
Then, a stranger asked to sit with me. I got to hold a conversation about interests, work, commonalities, and what led us to the evening. I got to laugh with them and others. I got to look forward to new bonds I’d form, regardless of the shape they’d take: platonic, sexual, romantic, all of the above, or something undefinable entirely.
My condition was touched upon, but it wasn’t an oddity under inspection or a lesson in avoiding ableism. It was simply another part of me and my life to get to know.
The mixer didn’t magically fix everything in me. Missing my ex and what we used to be may linger still, as how I acknowledge her pivotal role in my life. I can’t say I’m not worried I’m really running away from that instead of running toward new relationships that await me. But I did have a little hope resurrected. For the first time in months, the vacuum didn’t feel quite so deep and I was a little less haunted.
Note: SMA News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of SMA News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to spinal muscular atrophy.
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