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My diet had changed, so sharing the list of dangerous ingredients with waiters often led to a discussion on I couldn't eat those things.
It's not one I'm ashamed of, but not one that I wave around like a banner either.
I learned to swipe left on men who run marathons, want kids (not wanting them is another fun conundrum), or consider themselves "adrenaline junkies," because there's just no way I can keep up. If I'm not feeling well on a second or third date, I'll push myself to go anyway and see if I can have fun with the person, without letting them know I'm not feeling well.
When you have a body that requires that you work from home, sleep a lot, eat more vegetables than Peter Rabbit, and spend what little disposable income you have on rare blood tests and plant stem cell therapy treatments, dating is awkward. I may mention why I don't eat gluten or, "Yeah, I have a bum knee so I can't run! If things get to a point where we're opening up emotionally, I start sharing details.
It's a part of who I am: the part of me that is strong, patient, compassionate, loving, and resilient. It allows men to open up to me about their own struggles with divorce, with death, with betrayal, and with addiction.
I see their resilience, and they show me the kindness, patience, and compassion only someone who has struggled can give. I still dream of quiet country road trips and cozy nights together.