Yo. Clara here.
The title of this post is something people occasionally say to me. Not because I give millions to charity (I don’t) or am an organ donor (I am! But I’m protective of my organs and will haunt whoever gets them, asking for them back, please) or help old ladies across the street (never) or steal puppies (wait, that isn’t nice…but I’d do it)…et cetera, point is, I’m not that nice. The nicest thing I’ve done in the past week is probably give a tip at a coffee shop, and even then, I wasn’t actually giving a tip Out Of The Kindness Of My Heart, I just didn’t want a damn penny back. What does a person do with a penny? Prop up uneven furniture at best. Wait. I should’ve kept that penny.
Anyway. The title of this post is, for real, wait for it wait for it, what people often will tell me if they get wind of the fact that I am dating someone who uses a wheelchair. What’s up with that? There’s nothing nice about me dating Jeff…I’m a horrible girlfriend. I’m only with him for his sweet downtown digs, obviously. If there was anything nice about me dating him, it’d be putting up with how he posts it on Facebook every time I drop food in my lap.
Seriously, where do I even live that people tell me it’s “nice” of me to date who I’m dating? From now on, I’m going to evaluate peoples’ relationships with “oh that’s _____ of you statements”. Oh, you’re dating a blue-eye? That’s mean of you. Oh, you’re dating a boy with brown hair? That’s Irish of you. Oh, you’re dating a guy in a wheelchair? That’s a…that’s a bad choice.