Fond memories of being brutally beaten

I’m reminded, by a different train of thinking, of the time Sarah nearly knocked me out by kicking me in the head. Yes, it’s an unusual courtship ritual, but apparently that’s how some do it. ;)

Okay, so the story was we were having a video night or somesuch at my place, and I was flirting with her, as you do. You being me, not you… if I catch you doing it there’ll be hell to pay. ;)

Ahem, anyway, sorry, narrative imperative. :) So, yes, I was trying to pick her up, literally. I can’t remember exactly why, I guess I figured it was just a good idea, at the time. ‘course, she’s got a thing about being physically picked up… not keen on it. So not keen in fact that she instinctively kicked me full in the head when I tried. That put me off, to say the least. Really ruined my evening, in fact. I went for a lie down for a while, and sort of dozed on and off. I didn’t really emerge again that night, while the party continued on apparently unawares.

I’ve always been rather upset about that whole incident. I wasn’t entirely sure why, for a long time… I just took it “personally”, as you’d say. But, with the wisdom of my colossal age – 22, yep, I’ll be looking for retirement homes next week if anyone’s got suggestions ;) – I think I can now figure out why. At first I started to think I was cut about having my playful advances so decisively rejected. But then that’s silly, because I think this was before Sarah & I were going out, or at least early on, so we know that rejection wasn’t an ongoing theme.

Then I started to think it’s not actually about the incident itself, it’s what happened afterwards. Which is to say, nothing. After stumbling straight to my room, not a single person so much as walked past the door, all night. I think I lay there for hours, from memory. Not even Sarah, who you’d think would be somewhat apologetic about the affair.

I vaguely remember Sarah & Damien singing, at some point… I’ve got some faint recollection of elephants, but I’ve no idea what that means.

So, I guess that’s it. Sarah never did really apologise, either. She maintained that I got what I deserved. That seems a bit harsh from the point of view of the other side of the foot-head equation, but has an underlying rational to it.

When I mentioned it to Sarah afterwards, much much later (months, I think) she said she’d wanted to see how I was doing, but hadn’t, obviously. I can’t remember her exact reasoning. It sounded suspiciously post-rationalised, anyway.

I guess the sentiment of this seems somewhat bitter, but that’s not really it. I’m kind of warmly sentimental towards it now, I guess. It’s a relatively unique story, if creatively embellished… “so yeah, on our first date, my girl tried to kick me unconscious”. ;)

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