Changed Plans and the Damage They Could Cause Disabled People

Have you ever been invited to do something really exciting, only to hear nothing about the opportunity for a while? Have you ever been invited to do something exciting, only to hear that the opportunity was taken from you only after you contact them for updates?

On September 28th 2021, I was invited to do a piece for the BBC show Rip Off Britain: Holidays, a holiday specific spin-off of Rip Off Britain. Usually running on a weeknight after The One Show (and running live shows after BBC Breakfast on weekdays), the show seeks to highlight extortionate costs to consumers, from utility bills, food costs, housing and travel.

I received a Facebook and, as I later discovered, Twitter message from two people who worked on the programme. Their team had discovered the article I'd written in the Metro regarding accessibility issues in hotels. Admittedly, I thought it was a joke or a scam at first; I didn't expect people who work on TV to message you on social media for potential opportunities. But the message also seemed professional enough not to believe, so I sent a Facebook message in return the next day with my contact details to talk things over properly.

One of their colleagues phoned around an hour after my message and, a few minutes later, it was agreed that the piece would be filmed in a week at a third party location (I live with my father, so having a living room full of filming equipment wouldn't be appreciated, and my disability restricts me from working). They would also be in touch closer to filming day to finalise things.

The day before the film crew were due to arrive, however, I received no call or message. Filming day arrived, still nothing. I gave them the benefit of doubt at first. Maybe they were a bit busy, maybe they were having trouble getting a filming location sorted.

I wouldn't receive the truth until the week after filming day. I sent an email to the same person who called me two weeks earlier, asking if there were any updates on the piece. As it turned out, the piece had already been filmed. I was disappointed, but incredibly angry.

I wasn't angry that I was replaced in the piece as such. Unfortunate things happen, especially in film and TV. And there are fuel shortage issues across the country thanks, primarily, to Brexit. Besides, I'm glad that hotel accessibility is being talked about a bit more (not that I trust the BBC to do it anymore. If they're willing to do hit pieces on Stonewall solely because the LGBTQ+ charity supports trans and non-binary people, I dread to think how they'll bastardise this discussion in the name of "impartiality").

No, I was angry at the fact that I had to get in touch with them to find out what had happened. It felt really unprofessional on their part. But on a human level, it was rude and insulting. I can imagine that keeping a programme running efficiently takes a lot of time, but how long would it really take for them to send a message saying plans had changed? I had three separate contacts from the same programme. I doubt that it would've taken long for one to send me an update. If they had, I'd have been more than happy to travel wherever they wanted to film.

While I'm glad that they're open to getting in touch with regards to future opportunities, I'm not sure I'd even want to accept the offer even if I was given one. I mentioned in my last post that multiple failed dates have made me not want to go on another one. This is a similar situation: how can I be sure that the opportunity won't be taken away again if an easier alternative becomes available?

This time, however, that hesitation could have some awful consequences. Disability issues are incredibly important to talk about, but so few disabled people are actually approached to talk about them. Because of this, I've secretly been pushing myself the last few years to accept more opportunities, especially when it comes to talking about issues that affect disabled people (from my perspective).

This has worked tremendously well for me. I worked with the former Virgin Trains to help improve accessibility for them. I was once on local radio to talk about the rise in disability hate crimes. And, of course, there was the Metro article which led to the most recent opportunity with Rip Off Britain.

I don't want to let the disabled community down based on one bad experience. But I know that my mind may want to reject future offers because I don't want to go through this frustration again.

Dating as a Gay, Disabled Introvert

“You’re a very nice person, but you would be a burden in a relationship. You can’t expect your boyfriend to be a full-time carer”. This was one comment I received on a dating app in 2018. It was utterly soul destroying, and it’s haunted me ever since.

Being disabled, I rely on technology a lot to talk to people. It’s slightly easier to approach people and start conversations and I don’t have to worry about going anywhere until the time calls for me to do so. 

Because of this, I’ve used dating apps from time to time to potentially find my Prince Charming. And while I’ve had a couple of friendly conversations, they were few and far between. Mostly, I’ve been either ignored, sent spam from bots or sent unsolicited naked pictures. 
 
Admittedly, all of these conversations were started by other people, so the solution should be easy: that I start the conversation. Sadly, that’s hard for me to do. 
 

Due to a past that I'm uncomfortable going in to now, I am a very introverted person. I am comfortable enough to go out and do things, talk to cashiers in shops and banks, and screaming into the void (or talking about things that I’m passionate about) on social media. But if I’m out of my comfort zone, if I’m put in a crowded situation or if I see a guy that I feel attracted to offline or online, I freeze up and hide myself in a corner. Or, if it’s an online conversation, I close the app or website and do something else to stop myself overthinking a potentially bad situation. I’ll play a video game or watch anything on TV instead. 
 
This isn’t to say that I haven’t had relationships in the past, but they’ve all been awful and only made my mental health worse. 
 
There were two guys in late 2015 that I had separate relationships with. We met at a gay, bi and trans men’s social group that took place in Hanley before it was cancelled in 2019. At the time, I was fairly new to the group as I’d only been out as a gay man for a few months. It was only because of my (now) best friend, whom I’d also met at the group, that I discovered that they were taking advantage of me for my money. I was just grateful that I had a friend who was looking out for me before things got worse. 
 
I had arranged a “date” with a guy in July 2017. We’d been talking on a dating app for a few days and we’d arranged to meet in a pub in Stoke town centre. I was waiting at the pub for three hours, but he never showed up and never explained the no show. It was so demoralising and humiliating, but the lack of response was even worse. It made me feel like there was something wrong with me personally as well as physically. 
 
In 2018, I met someone online. He seemed like a nice guy and I thought things were going well. Then I discovered that he’d removed me from all the social media accounts he’d added me on with no explanation. This one almost destroyed me mentally as he made me think that I was the one who had said, or did, something wrong. He did explain himself after I’d found an account he hadn’t blocked me on and I asked him about it. But I can’t remember what his reasoning was as I was too angry and upset to fully absorb what he was saying. 
 
I haven’t been on a date since. As much as I want to believe advice from friends that there’s someone out there for me, my mind constantly overrides that support by reminding me of the hurt that I’ve gone through over the years. I constantly go back to that one comment, saying that I’m a burden. And I end up feeling awful about myself. 

My body isn’t one that you’ll see in magazines or on modelling stages. My disability has bent and morphed my skeleton in unusual ways (my right arm folds back on itself and my chest sticks out) and I have colostomy bags covering most of my upper body due to bowel surgery I had in 2002. And I know that my life is more difficult to navigate than most. I need help getting dressed, getting cleaned, getting food and drink, getting in and out of my wheelchair. And my introversion makes it difficult to start conversations, or reply to messages online. But that doesn’t mean that I’m incapable of creating emotional connections. 
 
I wouldn’t want someone to date me out of sympathy. I just want a guy who’s willing to communicate and be patient enough to discover my strengths and weaknesses. I would want to know if there’s a chance of something serious from the get go, rather than talking for days and weeks, raising my hopes, only to rip my heart out once a connection had been made.