Last year, British television aired a documentary called Sex, Me and Disability, which followed a man living with Duchenne muscular dystrophy — a severe, progressive genetic disorder that weakens the skeletal, cardiac and respiratory muscles — as he navigated dating, intimacy and the awkward logistics of wanting what most people want but are rarely forced to articulate: to be desired by someone else.The documentary drew attention because it spoke openly about sex and disability, a combination that still makes many people squirm. Watching it from India, I found myself less surprised by the subject matter than by the fact that such a documentary existed at all.Here, disability is something we are happy to discuss so long as it remains safely inspirational. We like our disabled people triumphant at the Paralympics, acing competitive exams or delivering motivational speeches. We are considerably less comfortable imagining them on a bad Hinge date.A few months ago, I spoke to a Delhi-based chartered accountant who was born with cerebral palsy, a neurological condition that affects movement and muscle coordination. In his case, it manifests as a slight limp and stiffness in one arm. He earns well, travels often, has a close-knit group of friends and can discuss tax regulations with ease.What he can’t seem to crack is dating.When he was 25, he’s now 27, he matched with a woman online. They chatted for weeks before finally meeting. They talked about work, films and travel. Afterwards, sensing her hesitation, he asked if she would like to meet again.She told him she had agreed to the date because she felt sorry for him. Not because she was interested. The memory still makes him laugh with a few kilograms of old hurt.“At least she was honest,” he said, adding, “I just want someone to share things with,” he told me.