Dating with a Disability: The Night I Literally Fell on a Date

Originally written in November 2014 as 'Falling in Love?' — Updated for clarity and reflection in 2026.

I have shared plenty of stories about my relationships over the years, including the disasters that somehow always end up funny. I do not know why I attract awkward situations. It is either the way I retell them or the fact that things simply happen to me. I never go looking for them.

I have been single for a while and after my last attempt at a relationship I decided to step back. I wanted to enjoy being single, enjoy being a dad and focus on the boys’ wellbeing as well as my own. It felt good to breathe for a bit. Even so, there are moments when I miss adult conversation with someone who is not a pupil, a parent or under the age of five. So last month I decided to try dating again.

I had forgotten how cruel and critical the dating world can be. Expectations are high and people judge more than an online profile ever shows. At thirty two you are bound to have things people do not consider desirable, which I wrote about that before.

I started chatting to people, going out more and making myself available to the idea of dating. I had been talking to someone for a while and we decided to meet last week. Dating always brings worries for me. My health is the biggest one. I have lived with weakness and difficulty walking since a serious ice skating accident at fourteen. Steps, standing and uneven ground are daily challenges. I cope with it. It is part of my life. It feels like an extra limb. Useful at times, noticeable, sometimes helpful and sometimes something that freaks people out.

The real test on a date is simple. If someone sees all of that and still wants a second date then it feels like a win. That happened last week. We met again last night to watch a film. Before going to someone’s house I always ask about steps. If they are too high I bring my block, which is a small platform I made to halve the height of a step. Her steps were bigger than normal so the block came with me.

The evening went well. We put a film on, ignored it and talked for hours. My health came up briefly. I shrugged it off as usual. Leaving the house was the challenge. The steps were wet from rain and covered in leaves. You can probably guess what happened next.

I slipped, flew forward and landed in a muddy patch of grass. Classic me. Falling is part of my life, although it always shows my disability at its worst. I cannot stand up independently without something to lean on. I tried. I tried again. Nothing worked. I shuffled to the bottom of the slope to use a method that usually helps me stand, although the ground was too wet. Think of Bambi on ice.

[Image 2. Bambi on ice alone. His back legs have slipped as he pushes up on his front 2]

[Image 3. Bambi is on the ice pressing up on his front legs, his back legs spread flat on the ice. Thumper, to the left, tries pushing one of his legs up]

[Image 4. Bambi is on the ice. His legs spread behind him. Pushing up on his front legs. Thumper raising a foot in front of him]

 

My date laughed, which was far better than panicking, and brought out a chair. I managed to get onto it. Just as I was about to stand, a group of lads walked past. At this point I was wet, muddy and had nothing left to lose, so I asked for help. They lifted me up without hesitation.

I apologised far too many times and went home embarrassed. My date was kind about it. We spoke when I got in and joked about it. We have chatted today too. My question now is whether there will be a third date. I doubt it.

Falling in love was not meant to involve actual falling. Showing weakness does not feel attractive. My friends at church laughed with me this morning, which helped, although the embarrassment still sits in my mind. It feels like it reflects badly on me. People say the right person will accept every part of your life, including the messy bits. Dating is different. You want butterflies, attraction and the desire to meet again. Falling over rarely helps.

This experience has not made me give up on dating. I am still a cute, funny and caring guy. It has made me wonder when I need to accept that my health might interfere with dating and whether I need to make peace with that.

What do you think? Would love to hear your take on it.

I am not a pity party kind of guy. I see the funny side. So do not feel sorry for me.

2026 Reflection

Reading this again feels like opening a time capsule from a version of myself who was trying to work out whether love was even possible. I can see how much fear sat underneath the humour. I can also see how much I wanted someone to look past the fall, the block, the steps and the awkwardness. 

One year after this post I reached the point where I thought dating was over for me. I also tried to make sense of myself through the lens of a diagnosis that never quite fit. I understand now that autism shaped far more of my dating life than I realised at the time.

This was the first post where I wrote openly about dating. I later wrote about the moment the boys asked if I was single, what it meant to be a single dad, the difference between being active and being absent, the stereotyping that came with it, the times I tried taking the plunge again after years of avoiding it, and the 2017 date that wasn't right.

What I did not know during any of this was that five months after this post someone who was already reading my blog and part of the same online world would become someone significant. Hannah and I first crossed paths in April 2015 when she commented on a post. We became friends, started dating in 2017, got engaged in 2021 and married in 2024. Every step between this moment and that one led to her.

This post shows a man who thought falling made him unlovable. The years that followed showed me that falling was never the problem. I just had not met the person who would sit with me in the mud, laugh with me, help me up and stay.

If you want to read about my parenting and family journey, please click here.