This will undoubtedly be the most personal thing I've shared on this blog to date, and it is only through the support of friends and family that I have found the strength to do so.
I should begin by saying that I have almost no experience with women and it's due to a number of reasons; I'm introverted, rather unassertive in social situations and the schools and college I attended were all relatively far from home, making romantic relationships quite unfeasible. If you add the fact that I am a cerebral palsied quadriplegic, it's easy to see why most girls wouldn't consider me a "good catch".
Things began to change in December last year when frequent flirtatious conversation bloomed between me and an extremely witty and attractive older woman with whom I'd briefly worked in the past. (I will not name her or reveal where she lived because firstly, I have no desire to be sued and secondly, this is not an attempt at vengeance; her deeds will bring enough personal suffering of their own, I reckon.) We'd remained in touch via Facebook and I had no reason to think our attraction would ever be more than platonic, but as I said, things changed.
She had long since returned to Cape Town (her native stomping grounds) and as I had just resigned from a job in the emergency service industry with no definite plans for the future, she suggested I go there for a six-week holiday. We spent the next three months in daily contact, usually chatting until the early hours of the morning and during this time, my "holiday" became an indefinite stay and then a permanent relocation.
If I'd been more rational about this, I'd have realised that things were moving too quickly, but as it was, I felt deliriously happy to be the object of desire for a successful, independent woman who had travelled the world and lived like a gypsy.
Nonetheless, I was afraid; never before had I travelled anywhere by myself (let alone flying 1000 kilometres away to start a new life) and once I got there, she would pretty much be my sole point of stability and care. If at this point in the tale, you're wondering what the giddy fuck I was thinking, fear not - I ask myself the same thing every day.
Eventually, the day of my flight came and despite my trepidation, I arrived safe and sound. For a solid month, my life was the best it has ever been; Cape Town is truly a jewel in South Africa's crown and we spent nearly every day exploring the city and writing about our adventures. In short order, she'd also used her impressive network of professional acquaintances to create tangible job prospects for me.
The woman herself was an absolute wonder, it seemed as though we connected on an intellectual level and my disability posed no deterrent whatsoever in regard to sexual attraction. One night though, a housemate walked in on us having sex and suddenly, everything went wrong.
This housemate became furious and accused her of taking advantage of me (frankly, an assumption this person had no right to make). The woman then became convinced that if things ended badly between us, I would charge her with abuse; something I swore I would never do on principle.
Regardless of my assurances, she kicked me out a little over a week later with no notice and wouldn't even be in the same room with me after that, which meant that another housemate and her boyfriend had to help me pack and prepare for a flight back to Durban that same morning. I'm honestly lucky to have made it to the airport on time.
When I got back, we realised that a number of valuable things had been forgotten in the rush. Upon politely asking the woman to return them, she took a truly disturbing degree of joy in refusing and belittling me to the best of her considerable ability.
In an attempt to remove emotion from the situation, my mother called her father, which awoke a rage I did not foresee and drove her to threaten me with sexual assault charges. Suffice it to say I abandoned those possessions and took steps to make any further contact basically impossible.
So here I am, trying to rebuild my life in a world which feels drastically shrunken. It's been a few months now and I've been able to get work and earn money and thanks to a small circle of very dear friends, I am not actively suicidal, Honestly though, I do find myself wishing life would end more often than I like to admit.
Where my journey will go from here, I really can't say. I suppose I'll just have to wait and see, like everyone else.
