We're dateable and know this ourselves; we're just waiting for everyone else to catch on.
If the right guy came along, he'd be comfortable with the truth — which he did, and he is.Eventually, I got tired of fearing my “coming out” moment; I wanted to be up front with people from the beginning.So I wrote a blog in which I documented everyday instances in my life, including my experiences with alopecia, called Single Asian Female, which you'll find nestled between dating and pornography sites when you Google it.What if his hand, or worse, brushes off both my eyebrows?If my wig falls off do I explain myself or feign surprise? “Way too stressful.”Besides the odd proposition, dating is getting to know someone from the ground up.And that's the crux of the unpleasantness for me: a huge part of dating is about making yourself appear attractive enough for someone to want to spend time with you and potentially have sex with you — a task that is, in my experience, fraught with feelings of anxiety, deception and fear.(I've heard of women with alopecia who sleep with their wigs on because they're terrified of what their significant others will think.And the only time I did tell someone I was dating that I had alopecia, he expressed his sympathies before promptly sleeping with somebody else.) But more than rejection, I feared the notion that people would find it impossible to separate my physical state from who I was as a person.I knew that people were taking me, literally, at face value, when my appearance was something I'd meticulously crafted over hours in the privacy of my own bathroom.My appearance was a sham, but I kept it a secret because I feared flat-out rejection.