The first time I found out my boyfriend had a disability was when he struggled to open a jar of salsa.
To be fair, he wasn’t my boyfriend – yet. He was just some guy who happened to sit next to me at a dinner party and introduced himself with an awkward handshake.
Now, six months later, we were tentatively getting to know each other at a friend’s house over chips and salsa.
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When I saw him pass off the jar to someone else to open, I joked he must be too weak if he could be defeated by the tiny jar.
"I’m disabled," he said. "I have cerebral palsy."
"Oh."
I froze, wondering how the hell I was going to backtrack from that. I expected him to be offended, but instead, he laughed. He was used to it.
After I went home, I Googled cerebral palsy. Ben was the first person I’d ever met with a disability, but he didn’t fit into the stereotypes I’d seen on TV shows and movies. He wasn’t in a wheelchair, for one. And he never acted bitter about his lot in life.