Monday, 21 May 2012

The Strong Man.

This morning I took my first ever self-defence course. I realise that I was ripe for the picking with all the creepy rapists in Brooklyn, considering I fight like a girl. Now I can fight like a girl who has a chance of doing more than peeing her pants.

Practising the awesome Chuck Norris moves today on the mat, I was reminded of the time I dated a guy who liked to fight. (And yes.. the woman that taught the class DID fight for Chuck Norris in real life so she knows what she's doing). But I digress.

A few years ago I decided to give a strongman a chance. I met him online, and I kept telling him I wasn't interested, he was too muscled and I didn't want to date a guy that had side effects of steroids. He emailed me so many times to tell me that all his manly parts were fine, and in fact over those emails I learnt that he actually had a brain. No joke, he read books. The classics even. He had a degree in English Lit, and he had muscles... do you know that song called "Walking Contradiction" by Green day? It's so catchy.

I agreed to meet him for dinner, and I wasn't sure what KIND of muscly guy he was. Was he a beer and hot dogs kind of guy? Was he a burger guy? Turns out he was a SALAD GUY. For crying out loud. The only thing that lettuce is good for is frolicking through a lettuce patch on a Sunday afternoon while you're eating a burger that is so greasy your face becomes luminescent.

I felt pressured in that 2 seconds to order a salad too. Would he think I was some kind of carnivore? Turns out I don't give in to peer pressure, and I ordered a burger anyway. I kind of felt like he would judge me, but at the same time I was coming off the Dr.Berenstein diet where you eat almost nothing to begin with... so I was ready to stuff my face full of ground beef and cheese.

I actually really enjoyed hanging with him, and when he asked me if I wanted to go out again I decided it wouldn't kill me. Except that it kind of did. His great idea of a second date was to take me to this martial arts training place... and you see where I'm going with this? No you don't. You really don't. I know you're thinking that he signed us up for a class. That is not true. He only signed HIMSELF UP. And I was supposed to stand there like some kind of soccer Mom watching him. He said that he spends most of his free time there. Ugh. The class was 2 hours. 2 hours of death. It smelled like B.O. Some other muscled guy tried to pick me up, and I gave him Jenny's number. You know... 867- 5309.

After 2 hours of pretending to be encouraging while he kicked and punched... I was tired. I realised that for all his sparkling blue eyes there was a future of watching a man with an obsession... and I need a guy that is obsessed with Jesus instead.