Dating as a stammerer
Tess Casher tells us about navigating the online dating world, meeting your partner's family for the first time and her theories on how stammering can benefit relationships.
Under the 'Why you should date me' prompt on my dating profile, I include the following:
"You're dating a stammerer! The perks are:
- Stylised convos with frequent pauses for dramatic effect.
- You get more time to think of zingers.
- You always seem hella suave."
This answer elicits interesting responses that range from comical to cringeworthy. Some of the more interesting ones are:
Camaraderie: "I stammer too! We can have the most insane convos!"
Factoid: "Woah?! Samuel Jackson's "mother***" catchphrase came from his stammer! Cursing got him over blocks!!"
Patronising (Know-it-all): "A kid in my class stammered! I did a report on stammering in grade four (my teacher loved it btw — said it was the best in the class). Did you know that stammerers know what they want to say and just have trouble getting the words out?"
Patronising (Ego complex): "Don't worry about it! I'm a 'nice guy' who is fine with it and will listen to you (there aren't that many of us out there). I'm such an amazing listener, you don't have to worry. It won't bother me!"
Perhaps unsurprisingly, my relationships have stemmed from offline interactions.
After my partner gets to know me and my speech as a package deal, they come to realise that my stammer has an interesting habit of becoming a bit stickier and more prominent when I'm meeting new people, speaking in group settings or wanting to make a good first impression. When I'm well past a first date and walking into a partner's house to meet his entire family (throw in a sprinkling of aunts, uncles and cousins for good measure), it is the perfect recipe to bake me into a stammering pie. It's one thing to be a stammerer, and another thing entirely to reveal to your partner's friends and family that he is dating a stammerer.
Stammering granted me a 'Julia Roberts moment'.
To ease my nerves, my then partner would kindly follow my request to inform his family that I stammered before I arrived. I fundamentally believe that speech dysfluency is a valuable form of talking. Everyone was lovely, exceedingly warm and kindly gave me the chance to speak at my own pace. Yet, in the moments where my jaw is locked open and my eyes are clamped shut as I'm trying to push out a word, a sense of embarrassment creeps its way into me. With bright red cheeks and sweaty palms, I feel like a particularly bad dysfluency supporter.
I was not ashamed of my stammer itself (I can't help that). However, how I socially handle my stammer strongly influences its impact on the discussion. If I don't freak out, the conversation stays afloat. This was not one of those times. I was embarrassed by my embarrassment.
Still, the piece of frozen time, where my lips chiselled and chipped away at a syllable, like all moments, eventually thawed. To my surprise, the world did not end, nor did the earth swallow me up whole. I breathed. They smiled. I grinned back. Once I unfurrowed my brow and relaxed, my worries slowly started to melt. By the end of the evening, conversation flowed between us. My stammer was still present but it swelled like those waves that adventurers seek out while kayaking or bobbing in the ocean. Like the reality that I have two adorable labradors and a predilection verging on addiction for Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, the undercurrents and eddies of my speech became just another fact about me.
From this lens, stammering granted me a 'Julia Roberts moment'. After all, what can be more 90s romcom-esque than getting to learn that loving myself was the answer all along.
Sharing my stammering stories... creates moments of vulnerability that enhances my ability to connect with the asker.
Connections
To add nuance to the cliché, dating with a stammer continues to provide supporting evidence for two of my personal theories…
My first argument is that individual experience fosters connection. Stammering is the particular way in which I experience the world. Its specificness gives me a story to share. It's a fact about myself and of myself for people to ask questions about and relate their experiences. If dating is a process of two people getting to know each other, sharing my stammering stories (how it sparks reflection and enables me to lean into the nooks and grooves of a conversation) creates moments of vulnerability that enhances my ability to connect with the asker.
This process works best with the right sorts of people, a dynamic that operates as evidence for my second proposition: stammering ushers wonderful people into your orbit. The kinds of people who fully and wholeheartedly listen to stuttered speech and welcome stammerers into a conversation tend to be wonderful, compassionate and caring people.
Dating as a female twenty-something is not hailed as an easy task. Indeed, dating under any circumstance is pretty tricky. But, while others must navigate the pesky filters on dating apps, stammerers have our speech to do some of the dating grunt work.
What have your dating experiences been like? Write an article for Your Voice and tell us. See Submit Something For The Site or email editor@stamma.org for details.
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