The restaurant was dimly lit. The sound of voices and clinking glasses filled the air. I stood near the entrance, frozen, clutching my white cane feeling the stares of the people seated around the table.
“Who’s that?” a woman turned to ask the man seated next to her at the end of the long table, diagonally opposite from where I was standing.
“Oh, that’s a new member,” the man replied in a husky voice, “She’s got an eyesight problem.”
Eyesight problem? I thought, feeling a sting of anger. I’m blind and I’m using a white cane.
I soon found out that was Jeff, the organiser of the event.
Not a single person spoke to me
Scanning up and down and side to side along the table, they were mostly women I thought. I couldn’t see their faces, but I felt their stares burning into me. I could feel their curiosity. Maybe they were wondering what a person with – wait for it – an eyesight problem looks like. At this point, still not a single person had spoken to me.
Not far from where I was standing, I heard a male voice. I turned in his direction and said, “Excuse me please. Are you Jeff”?
“Over there”, he said.
Well, for fuck’s sake, where is “over there? I thought.
“Hi Jeff”, I said, finally locating him.
He looked towards me but didn’t get up. I waited for him to introduce himself. Or at least say hello.
Finally, he said, “You can sit over here if you like.”
“Over here” was not an option because it meant navigating to the end of the long table, past a bunch of unfriendly middle- aged to elderly singles who were squashed in against the back wall of the restaurant.
“I’ll just order a wine but won’t stay for dinner. I’m feeling uncomfortable”, I said.
Completely overwhelmed and on the verge of an anxiety attack was how I truly felt.
“OK”, he replied. That was the extent of our conversation.
I couldn’t help but wonder if this is how Jeff treats all newcomers. Isn’t it normal to greet them and make them feel welcome? But he stayed glued to his seat, indifferent to my presence.
Why did I go to the event?
My Support Worker had told me about this event, a single’s night, that takes place at a different venue once a month in and around the suburbs close to me. Eager to meet people around my neck of the woods, I was keen to attend an event like this. So, SW set-up the meeting with (his friend) Jeff, the organiser. Unfortunately, SW was unable to take me to the event, so I had to go alone – something that I don’t do much these days, given the challenges with my vision loss. But Jeff had assured SW that he would be at the restaurant early to meet and greet me.
Where is the front door?
I knew the night was going to be a shocker because, for starters, I had no idea where the front door of the restaurant was. Armed with my trusty cane, there were a lot of people hanging around in huddles, but no one came to my aid. I know I should’ve asked for help but I would’ve needed a megaphone for the purpose. And I didn’t have one on me. But did I really have to? Whatever happened to the days when people noticed someone needing help?
When I finally stumbled upon the front entrance and stepped inside, I had to ask the waiters for help. No doubt about it, they were weird and unhelpful too.
“Good evening. Clearly it wasn’t. Could you please take me to Jeff’s table?”.
“Who?” asked the waiter.
“Jeff, the organiser of the singles night”.
“OK. Follow me,” she said, and took off at a brisk pace leaving me to navigate through the restaurant like an obstacle course champion.
Inclusion, intrusion or exclusion?
When there’s such importance placed on inclusion these days, this event couldn’t have shown more exclusion. I felt like it was more of a case of intrusion (by me) into their clicky gathering, and they weren’t having a bar of it. And sadly, many people like me feel the same way when they try to participate in activities with the ‘normal’ people. Seems like a lot of people aren’t ready for the ‘intrusion’.
Where did I find solace?
Overwhelmed and disheartened, I left the singles night and headed over the road to the movie theatre, managing to dodge a car on the way. There, I knew I could find solace in a big bag of chips and a large wine. As I sat, drowning my sorrows and increasing my weight, I couldn’t believe what I saw on Jeff’s Facebook page.
Great group of 24 people at the Gundawindi Singles 50 to 65 Group dinner. Lots of friendly people looking to make new friends, eat delicious meals and soak up the warm atmosphere. New members are very welcome. Next event is in August.
I felt a surge of anger. “Friendly? Warm? Make new friends? Welcome? That’s not what I just experienced. Nothing more than empty words.
Featured photo taken by the author –c’est moi.
