Written by Beth McColl

I was finally diagnosed with ADHD in late 2020 after years of being bounced from one waiting list to the next. ADHD is a neurodevelopment disorder that affects a person's ability to regulate attention or impulses. For me, it looks like warring emotions, endless struggles to manage my time and constant guilt about forgotten duties (both real and imagined). If there's a way to package that as sexy and stick it on my dating profile, I'm yet to think of it.

Dating with ADHD can be a lot of work. It feels like a full-time job, and it seems like I'm constantly apologizing to a very nice match for totally forgetting to respond to their very nice message. Trying to find the right medication has taken a big toll, too. One pill made me feel hollow and strange, totally destroying my appetite. When a guy made me dinner during the summer I only managed one or two mouthfuls before I felt too sick to carry on. Another pill ramped up my usually quite moderate anxiety to such a level that I couldn't leave the house without feeling terrified and tearful, which wasn't ideal for trying to meet new people.

Despite there being more chatter about it online, ADHD is still fairly misunderstood, which can make for some truly irritating date chat. I don't know what it is about being a woman with ADHD, but it invites a lot of unsolicited opinions. I've had people confidently explain that my symptoms are actually caused by a vitamin deficiency and I'll feel much better once I introduce a bit more oily fish into my diet. I've been told I'm not trying hard enough, that I'm just using it as an excuse. I've had people deny that ADHD even exists, as though it's a poltergeist I've conjured up to explain why I can't find my sunglasses and keep forgetting to buy toilet paper. I've been sent patronizing articles about ways to 'cure' myself without medication and I've endured long lectures about the dangers of using the stimulants I've been carefully and sparingly prescribed. I've been asked by dates if they can 'borrow' my medication for a weekend, as though my ability to concentrate and work for a week comes secondary to them getting buzzed and talking too much at a bad party. Nowadays I'm better at vetting people before we meet, and although I'm happy to answer well-intentioned questions about it, I won't beg to be understood or believed. Once someone reveals their disbelief or scorn I'm more than happy to call it a day. as though my ability to concentrate and work for a week comes secondary to them getting buzzed and talking too much at a bad party. Nowadays I'm better at vetting people before we meet, and although I'm happy to answer well-intentioned questions about it, I won't beg to be understood or believed. Once someone reveals their disbelief or scorn I'm more than happy to call it a day. as though my ability to concentrate and work for a week comes secondary to them getting buzzed and talking too much at a bad party. Nowadays I'm better at vetting people before we meet, and although I'm happy to answer well-intentioned questions about it, I won't beg to be understood or believed. Once someone reveals their disbelief or scorn I'm more than happy to call it a day.

Learning about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria has also been huge for my dating prospects. RSD isn't a diagnosis, but it is a common phenomenon for a lot of neurodiverse people and it goes a long way to explain why rejections can be so acutely painful for us. Past pain caused by being made to feel different, receiving a lot more negative feedback as kids, having difficulty regulating emotions and being more likely to remember past rejections in sharper detail - these things can turn us into adults who are constantly scanning the horizon for the next knock-back. Modern dating is full of rejection, whether it's being left on read or getting unmatched or ghosted or breadcrumbed or bobsledded or whatever else the teens are calling it. Understanding my fears of rejection in this context has made it easier to move past a break-up without internalizing it or seeing it as evidence of my unworthiness. I know now that feeling like the world is crumbling because I got dumped isn't a sign I've lost out on a once in a lifetime partner, it's just my brain having a temporary wobble. I give myself a minute to grieve, and then I dust off and carry on.

Talking about my ADHD openly has been the most effective way of not letting it take over or get in the way when I'm dating someone new. Whoever I date has to be on board with my forgetfulness, the strange hours I keep, my sensitivity, and so it doesn't make sense to keep it unmentioned for long. Still, it can be tempting to say nothing. The early days of dating someone can be brilliant, with both parties on our best behaviour, showing only the shiniest and most exciting parts of ourselves. During that time I can fool myself into thinking my ADHD won't need addressing, that it'll just be fine, that it won't really come up. But at some point, there will be something; a panic about a forgotten deadline, or unexpected and unpleasant side-effects from a new medication, and it'll all come to the surface. I try to avoid this by bringing it up on the second or third date, giving a quick summary, and then moving on. It's only shameful if I act like it is.

I've worked hard to love and accept the person I am now, refusing any longer to be shamed for the things that I can't control. But I do still have a responsibility to recognize that certain aspects of my ADHD can be difficult and disruptive for both myself and the people closest to me. My unreliable memory and inattention can seem like carelessness or disinterest, and I need to make a conscious effort to correct this so that the people I date feel seen and cared for. My desire to be a low-hassle, easy-going, permanently together partner is well-meant but unrealistic. Instead, I offer what I have: love, care, transparency and my very best effort. For the right people, I know that's more than enough.