Pinocchio wanted to be like other boys

Last night my friend Yves picked me up and drove me to see his new place in Yaletown. He let me out at street level so I wouldn't have to struggle up the ramp in the underground. He left the car parked illegally while he attempted to help me up the ramp to the front door of his building. I insisted on doing it myself and sent him back to the car, but he came back to let me in so I wouldn't have to stand outside for 5 minutes until he returned. No, I said, it's not too cold and I prefer to stand. He had the idea that I couldn't stand that long.

Inside he insisted I not take my shoes off because it would be difficult for me. Later, he offered to help me stand when we made ready to leave for a pot luck dinner at Jose's place. He asked if I needed help getting into the car. We parked a block away and I struggled a bit up the incline to the front door of Jose's building. He watched anxiously, not knowing whether to intervene.

Yves wanted to hang my coat for me, but I hung it myself, pretending not to see him standing there with a hanger as I chatted with Jose. I settled in on Jose's couch. Yves sat beside me and brought me a drink while I conversed with another guest. When all the guests had arrived and the food was laid out he offered to collect a plate of food for me. I thanked him but said I was able to do it without help.

Conversation stopped as I struggled off the soft, low sofa and caught my balance. Legs and bodies moved out of my way to give me a wide berth. I nodded my thanks as I passed. At the salad table I dropped my fork and two other guests dove to pick it up for me. I filled my plate and wove my way back to my seat. I felt their eyes watching me as I made a semi-soft landing with my plate full of food. I didn't spill a drop. A couple of the guests around me questioned me about my disability and what had caused it. I filled them in the best I could, then gracefully changed the subject.

Part of the evening's fun was a gift exchange game. I was seated in a chair without arms at that point, having lost my preferred seat after a visit to the bathroom. When it was my turn to choose a gift from the pile I made two failed attempts to get to my feet as the others watched in awkward silence. There was a sigh of relief when I finally made it.

After the gift exchange was over Jose put on Cuban music and began teaching others how to dance the salsa. In short order others had joined them, pushing the furniture out of the way and invited those to were still seated to dance too. I declined out of fear of falling and causing a general consternation, but when I was the last one seated I threw caution to the wind and sidled up to the other dancers. It was fun for a few dances. I got into the rhythm (I used to love to dance) and even managed to find the dance moves that my legs could handle. It was fun and I was glad I could dance with the them for a bit.

When the music stopped and we sat down again, several of the guys congratulated me for joining in. Later, as guests were leaving, two guys said I had some pretty sexy moves as I was shaking it on the floor. They implied I was pretty hot stuff, though their flattery felt overdone, like a primary teacher praise of her students' stick-figure art. Be thankful you already have husbands, I teased them back. When it was my turn to leave, Jose thanked me profusely for coming, saying over and over what a special honour it was that I had made the effort to come. I felt it was definitely time to leave.

Back home, in the silence of my kitchen, I felt hugely alone and sad. They were the nicest, most considerate guys I could have asked for. At any point of my younger life, when I was like them, their attentions would have made me sing, but at that moment I only wanted to scream.