Dimly lit bars are great first-date venues for most people: the seductive ambience, the candles, the gentle clink of a martini shaker. But they couldn’t be worse for a visually impaired dater such as myself. I was born with ocular albinism and nystagmus, which renders me blind in one eye and severely partially sighted in the other. Yet, stubborn to the end, I have persevered with sepulchral bars for well over a decade now.
The results have been mixed. I’ve sat down next to the wrong woman when returning from the bathroom, got lost on the way to the very same bathroom and, on one occasion, spilt an entire Bloody Mary down the front of my date. Funnily enough, she didn’t want to see me again.
Get Britain's best politics newsletters
Register to get The Spectator's insight and opinion straight to your inbox. You can then read two free articles each week.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in