I was speaking to a young woman the other day. She asked me an interesting question. I gave her an honest answer. She didn’t believe me. I elaborated. She remained incredulous. I explained. She shook her head…

“How many girlfriends have you had?” she asked.

I considered this: “If by girlfriend, you’re referring to females with whom I have embarked on a serious relationship lasting longer than thirty days and not just a schoolyard fling, then … None.”

“What – how can you never have had a girlfriend?”

“Well, think of it,” I said, “in primary school in the late eighties/early nineties, in the countryside at least, boys entertained an inherent fear of girls then later, at high school I mean, well, I just wasn’t that into it -”

“Yeah, alright, I get that, school-kids are grotty ‘nall that, but how old are you now, you must’ve had a girlfriend since then..?”

“Yeah I was getting to that … As I said, high school at a rural school in the nineties, not what I’d label a veritable mating ground – in those days of course most girls didn’t get boobs until they were at least twelve and some not ‘til much later still – then after that, well, after that, as I mentioned before, shit happened, as shit so often does, and suddenly I found myself, I guess, no longer in the game.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said, shaking her head, “I mean, clearly you’re in the game now…”

“Hah,” I responded in a tone devoid of humour, “you’d be surprised … Tell you what, take some time getting to know me then tell me if you still think I’m ‘in the game’.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Well you claim to be shocked that I claim to be ‘no longer in the game’, yeah? Well perhaps you should see for yourself and make up your own mind.”

“Whaddaya talking about?” she said, ostensibly bordering on exasperated but with a sly grin betraying her good-humour. “Look at you, you’re tall, you’re pretty good looking, you’re athletic, from what I just saw in there you’re real strong, and … So what, like, is one of those legs artificial or something?”

“Interesting that you’d go there -”

“Oh my God, are you serious? Oh-my-God I am so sorry…”

“No Jenny, one of my legs is not prosthetic, it’s just funny that you – and in fact most people – perceive that the only way a person can be disabled is superficially, visibly.”

“Well, isn’t it?”

“What about Cerebral Palsy, is that what you’d consider a disability?”

“Oh, yeah, but you don’t have that..?”

“Would you date me if I did?”

“Well yeah, I mean, if you were you but if you had CP, yeah, of course I’d go out with you.”

From two metres off, amid the shadows of the corridor I looked into her eyes; I think she was genuine. “Alright, what if I was a high-functioning CP sufferer, I was still me, but on account of my condition, I was rendered impotent?”

A ten second pause ensued: “Do you actually have CP, or not?”

“No, that was a hypothetical, I was hoping to make a point.”

“What, that Cerebral Palsy makes you impotent?”

“No – I don’t believe it does anyway – just that the unseen or misrepresented can be equally as off-putting as those defects you can see.”

“So what ‘defects’ do you have that I can’t see?”

“You might be surprised…”

 

 

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Ian C DeUsh

Photography by Hine D Cop