THE GLADIATORS

I launch myself into the arena. Not an arena of blood and sand, where half naked men cut each other up with swords. Instead, my arena is a building in the heart of the city. I am armed with a killer shade of lipstick and a strong will to conquer. My fears, my curiosity, my image. Should I have disclosed more about myself, when we spoke on the phone? More than being a divorced single mother, with a part-time job, living back with her parents whilst being the primary carer of two sons with Autism? Yet, the proverbial cherry atop the icing on the cake, the factor that sets me apart from all else, warrants a slow reveal. Growing up, I didn’t want to reveal anything about me which others would find unappealing or confronting. Ironically, I never wanted to be an invisible person either. I just didn’t want my problematic invisible parts to become visible. “How do you know so much about neurological stuff?” Candidate 2 asked me. We were sitting beside each other on a sofa, his arm resting along the back of it, inching closer toward me. He had just finished telling me about the acquired brain injury he had developed as a result of surgery. My Mum had given him the nickname of ‘Show Pony’ when she saw his online profile and photo. Show Pony was a sharp and snappy dresser and the pose he struck in his photo suggested that he had confidence in himself. Candidate 1 had been disqualified months earlier. Eliminated by his action of walking past our meeting place 3 times, each time pausing to look in the window, seemingly to judge the merchandise, before deciding to enter the building and meet me. Charming. My name for him varied between Peeping Tom, Doubting Thomas, to the Weird S.O.B. “I know about neurological stuff because I was born with a defect of the central nervous system” I replied to Show Pony’s question. “Ever heard of Spina Bifida?” He cocked his head like a dog trying to figure out if he had heard the word ‘bone’ or ‘bath’ – two different levels of comfortableness.