I remember when I first noticed it, my predilection for the handicapped. I knew I had a major girl boner for alcoholics and drug addicts, so clearly emotional disabilities were already my thing. But the desire to sleep with a differently-abled man has never been fulfilled… except that one night make out session with a rather hilarious person who happened to have Cerebral Palsy, but that was a long time ago.
Don’t get me wrong, this is not a nurse complex- I am not really a catheter kind of gal. The reality of taking care of someone who is in any way physically challenged is frightening, as it’s hard enough for me to find my keys. I would be the one to unplug your life support by accident because I needed to use a straightening iron. But this is about a fantasy, that I feel compelled to share with you. So clearly I have another fetish- exhibitionism.
This is when I first knew I had a thing for guys in wheelchairs: When I was a pre-teen fangirl, I was enamored of a certain TV personality in Australia, where I grew up. A few years later when I was a more difficult to impress teenager, through a confluence of circumstances, I ended up knowing both this minor celeb and his brother well enough to say hello to and exchange pleasantries with. Then one day I saw him. The other brother. I couldn’t believe that he wasn’t the famous one- he was charismatic, gorgeous and had a soulful presence his siblings lacked. Then he rolled back and I saw the chair.
I was in love.
He looked over and smiled at me, then rolled away. When you are in a wheelchair I imagine it’s easier to be flirtatious, if you choose to be. Whether that was your personality before you became a paraplegic or if you were born that way, what woman wouldn’t smile back at a guy in a chair?
Except when I saw those sorrowful eyes, I wanted more…
I believe I must have had a boyfriend at the time of my first sexual stirrings for the brother in the chair, it’s the only reason I can think of why I didn’t follow him. Or if memory serves I did subtly follow him to see if I could score an introduction from his brothers, but got an evil eye from a formidable looking blond pushing the chair. It’s always a fucking blond, isn’t it?
Either way I would have lacked the courage to ask for what I have always wanted to do then and since… Sit on a wheelchair bound man’s lap. What kind of strange shit is that? Is it an urge to be taken care of? A desire to feel like a child? Or is it because he probably wouldn’t be able to feel most of me which would make me feel thinner?
I would certainly never just plunk my butt on another human being without permission, but if he let me I would sit gently down and then cradle my C5 injured honey’s (slightly unshaven) face in my arms and kiss his lips and…
That may be why I’m not so into quadriplegics with an injury higher than a C4, as all those tubes and breath-powered keyboards would get in the way. Also apparently Stephen Hawking is a real asshole. Regardless I need space to snuggle and put my head on his shoulder and most importantly feel the arm muscles that can do what their legs can’t…
I’m not aware of the technicalities of sex with a man in a wheelchair (there are chatrooms) but imagine for a moment what a man like that could do with his tongue… I’ll wait.
Ah, you’re back. Am I the only one with this fetish? Why no, says the Internet, how could you be? There exists everything from dendrophilia- sexual attraction to trees, to formicophilia- a fetish for being crawled on by insects, to the L.A. Chef who was recently found guilty of slow cooking his wife. (I hope he marinated her first, you know how gamey humans can taste. Especially when they’re not organic.)
My condition, technically referred to as a sexual disorder (fuck you DSM IV, like I don’t have enough disorders) is abasiophilia, although I’m not a nut for polio leg braces or iron lungs. They are SO 1950. Also I do not have a desire as many do with the “disorder,” for a person in a wheelchair to run over any part of my body. Generally if any activity, fetish or sport involves pain, then I’m out.
The thing I find most appealing (here it comes Freudians) is that I could wheel this man around to wherever I wanted (ha, you thought you were controlling) I could just sit him across from me and there he would stay. Perhaps he is independently wealthy from a large insurance payoff, or simply supported handsomely by my income (this is a fantasy remember so I make more than $4 a year.) He sits and does his thing: he reads a famous biography or draws architectural designs on a custom-made desk kindly donated by a Swiss company. Or he lifts weights with his unbelievable bi-s, tri-s, pecs, lats, delts and dimpled scapulas (scapuli?) Occasionally he pauses to wheel himself to the highly accessible polished chrome kitchen to pour himself a juice with which to take his meds (I don’t know- there’d be meds wouldn’t there?)
And I swear I would never walk downstairs in an argument, leaving him to talk to himself. Never! Or not unless there were very special circumstances, like say, him disagreeing with me in any way.
Look I have never once implied that I was sane, only you dear readers kindly reassure me by your various comments and emails telling me I’m not alone in the way I look at life. So go on. Tell me I’m not weird on this one. I dare ya.
Of course I would never ever ever want my husband in a wheelchair- that would not be good or sexually exciting at all. Firstly how the fuck is he going to help me with the kids? Oh yeah and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him. Right. That’s the first thing.
By the way, the very first fantasy I ever had about my husband back before we were even dating, now that I think about it, was sitting on his lap. The thought of it drove me to distraction, so that would be daddy issues? More likely it was about wanting to pin him to a chair or a couch or the back of a taxicab to prevent him from
escaping, I mean leaving… Alas that has proven more difficult than anticipated. Turns out he has other stuff to do but sit and stare at me all day long and I would probably find it kind of creepy after a while and be like, Listen honey, you’re an able-bodied WHITE man, don’t you have a world to run?
Sexual attraction is not really a choice. We want to fuck who we want to fuck where, when and how we want to fuck them. (A horizontal bar over the bed? Some kind of harness? I’ve been doing a lot of yoga, I bet I could totally do twenty minutes of downward facing doggie.)
And then it turns out there are hundreds of websites for us “able-bodied devotees” (someone thinks I am able-somethinged!) dawn-disableddating.com, whispers4u.com and dateable.org.
Ah… G-d bless the Internet. There truly is something for everyone… although if you come across my profile please don’t tell my husband. He might be kind of offended that I’d consider leaving him for someone even lamer.