Is Dating as a Celiac Really So Awful?

Tell me — I want to know!

For the single and celiac, this summer’s news has been glum. First, there was a feature in the Independent (a British paper, though the report was from America), entitled, “Dating with Celiac Disease: ‘It’s Not Fun, It’s Not Sexy’.” Next came a piece in the Boston Globe: “I Feel Like the Odd One Out: I Have Celiac Disease and I’m Single.”

To be fair, it’s not just this summer’s news. Earlier this year, the Celiac Center at Columbia University’s Medical Center hosted a symposium about quality of life for gluten-intolerant people. Spoiler alert: the news was not happy. The Center’s research showed that social anxiety was prevalent in a majority of respondents, and that they struggled with explaining their dietary needs to others. Dating was a particularly sore spot, with a sizable cohort deliberately eating gluten while on dates so they could avoid discussing celiac disease.

I don’t want to believe it’s that awful to date as a celiac… but I don’t know. My husband and I were already married for four years when I was diagnosed with celiac disease, and he’s been the most supportive partner I could hope for. Because I travel a lot for work, and I’m constantly meeting new people, I’ve had to talk about celiac disease with strangers in public settings hundreds of times… but that’s not the same as dating.

Let’s stipulate that dating can be tough for anyone. But I wonder if some celiacs are making it worse for themselves by worrying about how a potential partner will react to the news of a medical condition, however manageable it is. Let’s be honest: if someone doesn’t want to date you because they found out you can’t eat gluten, then you just dodged a bullet. I firmly believe Maya Angelou’s famous dictum: “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.” If someone shows you that they don’t care about you or your well-being, that person doesn’t belong in your life. Moreover, if you don’t reveal who you are to others, then you’re not giving them the opportunity to love you for who you really are.

There have been some terrific counterpoints to the doom-and-gloom reads. I adore this essay by Sophie Aaron, writing in The Mighty about how she continued to get sick after going entirely gluten-free. A key excerpt:

It was exhausting. I was so tired of how hard I was working just to feel like I could act as carefree as my peers. I talked to my doctor about it, thinking she would suggest the more traditional approach of explaining everything upfront and relying that the other person would understand my predicament enough to take precautions before we would meet in the dark basement of a student house. But, instead, she said, “just have them brush their teeth.” Right, like they were going to carry a toothbrush on them. “No, probably not,” she laughed. “But, you could.”

This revolutionized the game. I ordered a few individually packaged, pre-pasted toothbrushes as a test, just to see if I could even ask that of someone. I turned out to vastly underestimate the power of a 20-something’s hormonal urges, and it worked. It worked every time. And, on top of that, I wasn’t getting sick anymore.

This made me laugh out loud with delight when I read it, because it’s so honest and straightforward. And her solution was so simple!

I’ve written before about advocating for yourself in public places and in social situations (the full piece, with links to helpful resources, is here), but the key for me has been to do so in a positive way. There’s nothing high-maintenance or demanding about sharing your dietary needs — this is basic information to keep you healthy.

I’d love to hear from anyone reading this who is dating right now! You can comment below or DM me directly. Here’s to all of us being able to be open and honest about what we really need.