91Èȱ¬

But he is with me.

Over the weekend, we were at a party given by another wheelie friend. This was her territory, and we were meeting some of her longterm friends, most of whom were non-disabled. There was, of course, a disabled posse (and we raised hell), but I was the only one who had brought a partner. As my wheelie friend put it, now there were two of us with wheelchairs and partners. This relieved the pressure on her partner and, we hoped, changed the conversation. Mr. X was no longer the saint who had stuck with this crippled woman. Now, there were two of us. People do this. It's normal. And they are not impossibly good people. A man who devotedly cares for his burden of a disabled wife. Wizard and I did this dance that involved him spreading his legs, me shooting my chair between them, and sliding my hands down his back. There were other wickedly sexy moves, too. That should change the dynamic.

And that's it. That's what makes me so angry. We are just like any other couple; we have good times and bad times. But mostly, they have nothing to do with my disability, and everything to do with the fact that we are two different people who have decided to do this living together under the auspices of marriage thing. I'm fastidious about punctuality; he's on time if he leaves 10 minutes after. He cannot stand open things; I never close a door (the fridge is an exception) nor put the lid on anything (giggle). He never puts his stuff away. NEVER! There's always some pile or other on the floor. *I'm* the saint around here (huge grin).

And he's not some kind of sex freak -- why is that the common assumption about disabled sexuality is that anyone who engages in sex with us is a little, well, you know, odd. Why is it that when people learn that we are in a relationship, they go all mushy? Oh that poor man puts up with such a burden; he's so good. How nice. How sweet we are together. He must care for her so much -- he could have had anybody. Do any of you get this?

In my mind, I add on an extra layer of criticism. In the US, while it is common to see non-white people pushing the chairs of white people, I have never seen an able-bodied white person recognizably in a personal relationship with a disabled non-white person. I feel the criticism coming at us ... me .... really strongly -- even if it isn't actually there. Why is that cute white man with black disabled woman? He could have had anyone.

I wasn't disabled when Wizard and I first got together in 1991. We went hiking, backpacking, running. Our love for the outside didn't fade when both of us became involved in careers that took up all of our time, but we were there less. And when disability entered our lives, it didn't seem to make that much difference. I was freaking out. Of course, I was. But Wizard seemed pretty calm and directed about the source of our connection -- inner. It's formed while we do stuff together, but the things we do aren't the connection. We've had to make accommodations, adjustments, yes, but so has every other couple. We've had to rethink how we do and approach almost everything, but we've been together for 16 years. Is there any successful relationship that hasn't had to make these kinds of changes over the course of such a long period of time?

Life is a series of comings and goings. We use and rely on each other's skills. And, yes, I do contribute useful stuff to our relationship. After Wizard was hit by an out of control car, my knowledge about mobility impairments became critical, both in the first hours and in the months afterwards when we were both in chairs. That was hilarious. The staff in the hospital were confused, and the people on the street were scared as we barreled towards them. But beyond the disability specific knowledge, I am a person. And the emotional, intellectual, and artistic powers I bring to our connection are part of what keep us interested in each other.

Wizard is conventionally good-looking -- 6'3", clear blue eyes, long eyelashes, a huge open, generous smile. He's smart, very smart; he's kind, funny, gentle ..... He might have attracted anybody. But whether or not anybody could live with *him* is a different matter. I gotta tell ya; he's an acquired taste.

• Visit .