solar plexus

Last Friday I was expecting Maria over for dinner and a chat.

When the doorbell rang, I just buzzed her in, opened the door to my flat and went on with the cooking. Bad move. Once I could hear the footsteps coming up the stairs I realized it couldn't be her. Those were the irregular, heavy footsteps of a drunk man, not the light, quick tap tap of an energetic girl's Pumas.

"Hello? Who's there?" I asked.

No answer, but soon I could see an unfamiliar man staggering in my direction.

I can't exactly remember what happened next, it was all a blur.

All I remember was that he swung a punch in my direction and my years of martial arts training just took over. I must have deflected his blow because nothing hit me. He wasn't so lucky though. When my vision cleared he was on his hands and knees, retching pathetically on my welcome mat, unable to breathe.

I must have hit him in the solar plexus, hard. I don't even remember doing so, but supposedly that's the effect it has one someone who isn't ready for it.

Fucked up.

I was shaken. Shit, shit, shit, what do I do now?

Play tough. Show any weakness and he might try again. So I put my hand on the back of his neck, held him down and growled through clenched teeth that he was trespassing and I would either beat the shit out of him or call the cops if he didn't calm down.

He seemed to believe me.

I stood up, let him go. I remembered that Maria was on her way, I didn't want her to see this. So I texted her: "Brad's here, don't come." My thumb trembled on the phone's keypad.

Once Brad had regained his breath I took pity on him, invited him in for a glass of milk. He proceeded to break down and tell me pretty much his life story, slouching on a chair in my tiny kitchen. I listened, leaning against my refrigerator, still trying to act tough. I really just wanted him to leave, but I was afraid that if he still felt angry and humiliated when he left then he'd come back with a tyre iron or a friend or something.

So I let him vent. After about an hour I called him a cab and sent him back to his hotel.

Locked my door, climbed into my bed and cried myself to sleep.

I've never hit anyone outside the dojo before. It was a scary experience, both scary to lose control like that and scary to actually be in a situation where someone wanted to hurt me. But at the same time I'm incredibly glad I handled the situation as well as I did, incredibly glad the training works and glad I could calm things down afterwards. I don't think I'll be seeing Brad again.

I kept to myself for the rest of the weekend. Had Maria over last night to tell her what happened, but aside from that I avoided people. These past couple of weeks have been rough and that was really the last straw. Getting turned down by Maria and stalked by her ex boyfriend hasn't exactly made feel very sexy and sociable, but hopefully the worst is over now.

I want to get back to being myself, move on, meet people, have fabulous sex and write about it here. I really should finish writing about that threesome with Gillian, for example. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after.

In other news, I've decided to accept that job in Iceland and will be hopping on a plane sometime in August. Exciting!