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A Week on Feeld with…a Member in the very small London queer scene


July 4th, 2024

In this edition of A Week on Feeld: thoughts on sending the “so btw I am disabled” message, and receiving notifications that feel like butterflies.

How does a dating app like Feeld fit into your day-to-day life? We’re taking a closer look at how real people from our community use Feeld over the course of one week—whether that’s back-to-back dates, verbal foreplay, or a reflective time on one’s own.


After a quiet weekend slowly doing up the garden, I wake up feeling a lot more energized than I anticipated. Usually doing any type of activity will mean I get “payback” the next few days and my body will demand rest and very strong painkillers. But not today! 

After replying to emails and sorting out the mountain that is my laundry pile, I reward myself by opening Feeld. I have a few matches from the weekend that I have neglected to get back to, and start talking to a hot trans woman and an almost-as-hot cishet guy. 

After sounding out someone and feeling like we could hit it off, I will typically drop the “so btw I am disabled” message. This usually is me asking how the person would feel dating someone who uses a wheelchair. To date no one has ever replied “Urgh no way, what a hassle!” Thank God. The majority of the time they reply that they wouldn’t have any problem with it.

I then hit them with the copy and paste from my Notes app which explains in cheerful, self-deprecating humor, what that means for me to be in fact disabled, in terms of symptoms and limitations. Most occasions people will sympathize and tell me that none of this is a deal breaker. Sometimes the person will tell me that sometimes they suffer with what amounts to a cold, and although I am not a disability gatekeeper, I beg you, please don’t do this! I get that you want to sympathize and relate, but that is not the way.  

After chatting for a few hours with the hot trans girl, “K,” an organic time comes for me to talk about my disabilities. I go through the motions of pasting from my notes app and unsurprisingly she is amazing about it. She asks what kind of places are good for dates, do I ever need medication as an emergency measure and offers that she will happily push me in my wheelchair to all the sex parties we plan to go to. No natural time comes up in the conversation to drop my “btw I am completely broken” message with the other guy as the conversation is stilted, so I leave it for now.


I agreed to go for coffee with someone I matched with last week, but I'm already stressed about it. Ideally, I would go in my wheelchair but having checked the route on Google maps I can see that accessibility is really limited. I’ll have to get an Uber to and from [the venue]. I hope there are seats in there and that my date won’t mind going and ordering for me as my capability to stand for any period of time is a big fat zero. Imagine fainting on a first date because you had to queue up for an iced latte. Hugely embarrassing for all involved. 

I decided not to cancel, but the coffee shop was really busy and I had to awkwardly remind my date that I couldn’t stand up for long, and said I would hustle for a table whilst he ordered the drinks. You’d think that my bright Barbie pink crutches would give people a clue but apparently not. I made a mental note not to come here again as I wouldn’t be able to fit my wheelchair in without bumping into every single customer anyway. 

We talked about work, my writing, and his photography. I don’t like talking about being ill as I find it quite boring and he doesn’t bring it up anyway. After two coffees (well above my limit when I'm on my ADHD meds) and more stilted conversation, he offers to walk me home but I tell him I'm getting an Uber and he shrugs and gives me a hug and leaves. In the Uber home, I notice that K has messaged me. Seeing notifications from her gives me little butterflies, it’s been a while since that has happened! 


The coffee date completely wiped me out, my body can barely move, so I spend most of the day in bed and then reluctantly move to the sofa. Thankfully I don’t have any deadlines to complete this week so I can take it easy. 

I get a DM on Twitter, and it turns out that K is actually a mutual. The London queer scene is very small sometimes. It’s relieving in a way as I don’t need to worry about the reality of all my disabilities and limitations to her, as I tweet about my disability and disability activism pretty regularly. She also discloses that her main partner has fibromyalgia too so she is super understanding. We chat about where we grew up (turns out to be the same place), how we know some of the same bands and people, and exchange some nudes! 

She is so easy to talk to and I feel guilty that I can’t commit to anything right now as I am feeling so poorly. But talking to her makes me realize that the coffee date guy is pretty dry and I should probably let him know that I wasn’t feeling it. Will compose a nice let-down text later, [but] no rush as he hasn’t been in touch either. I don’t believe you should ghost someone you have met in real life, but nor should you tie yourself up in knots over one dull date. A simple “thank you but I don’t think we will work out, good luck out there,” etc. is enough. 


I am still feeling really unwell today. The reality is that sometimes doing something nice, even going out for coffee for the afternoon, often results in being punished physically, and then mentally. I speak to my best friend who is the only other disabled person I know, and who I can have an honest moan with about how shit it is sometimes. Funnily enough, we actually met on a dating app a few years ago and quickly realized that we were supposed to be nothing more than platonic soul mates. 

He tells me he has had to break it off with the person he was seeing, as the travel from South to West London was too tiring for him and he is supremely frustrated with the entire situation. I sympathize with him and tell him about my shit coffee date. 


Short notice, but someone I met on Feeld about six months ago gets in touch and asks to meet up. We have been seeing each other on and off and have had some incredibly spicy nights together. Importantly he is very understanding about me, and always finds us a great place to hang out and honestly acts like a perfect little sub for me (despite him being dom with me sex wise) getting me food and drinks and snacks often without me having to even leave the hotel bed. He asks if tomorrow is ok, and completely maps out my journey so I have to do as little traveling and standing up as possible. The hotel is in the West End and I do a little Googling and see that it is in fact incredibly fancy. This should be good.

I went out for dinner with some friends to Bang Bang Oriental. After five minutes I can confirm that if this were a movie, none of us would be beating the Bechdel test allegations, as we talk non stop about the men we are currently seeing on dating apps. 


The hotel is even fancier than anticipated. My date had bought snacks and massage oil and some restraints and assured me that if I was a good girl (I know it’s cheese, but nothing on earth makes me feel more special than when someone calls me this!) I could choose my favorite takeout. 

I asked what being a good girl meant, and he pressed me up against the wall and demanded that I orgasm quickly. As I can’t stand up for very long, and my date knows that, I knew I had to do this extremely fast, so I closed my eyes and let him do his thing and I concentrated on the white-hot heat building up inside me. 

After he got me a burrito for being the best good girl, I was treated to a massage with oil(!) and then hours and hours of pleasure all focused on me. I’m not normally a pillow princess but after my long week of feeling unwell this was most welcome. 


I need about a week to recover after last night, but there are zero complaints from me! It was so fun and I desperately needed to get that submissive brattiness out of my system. If I don't have some regular sexual masochistic power play, I get almost restless. I find it therapeutic (and sexy) to submit to someone and let them think and make all the decisions for me. It's like having a smooth brain experience, but with orgasms. 

I make some time to message K, we exchange more nudes and talk about her birthday plans (a huge orgy planned by her partner and friends). I am invited to come along of course, and we laugh about what a great first meet up it would be. I wonder if I should tell her how anxious I am about starting something new and being a let-down, because I am often so flaky with attending events. I can’t always predict how well I am going to be, or if the venue is going to have somewhere for me to sit down, or if I am being a burden by asking to be pushed in my chair. 

It’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, but if therapy has taught me anything it's that people are actually ok with reasonable demands and requests, especially if you are advocating for yourself. I message [about] my concerns to K. Of course she is amazing about it and reassures me that I don’t need to worry about these things with her, and I should focus on the fact that the orgy is going to be accessible! Can’t wait!