Did I ever tell you about the time I got punched in the face by a fireman? No? Perhaps I should seeing as we’ve been talking a lot recently. And there was that whole fake date thing we had.
Let me set the scene. We were about 18/19. It was just before I met The Hubby and my life changed forever. The Fireman (Number 4) and I had been broken up for about a year and so much stuff had happened, it just came to a head one alcohol-fuelled night. He had been to a club and hadn’t “pulled” anyone so he was lonely and looking for someone to take to his bed. I just so happened to be on his route home so he called me, text me and eventually ended up knocking on my door.
At this point I’d had about enough. For a year he had strung me along, making me think there was a chance we could get back together. It’s funny how just a couple of weeks ago (ten years later) he asked for the same chance. It’s funny how karma goes around right?
He’d knocked on my door after I ignored his texts and calls and I’ll be honest, I lost it. I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore and he wouldn’t be taking me to bed any longer. I wasn’t going to be his fuck buddy. I would be his girlfriend or nothing at all.
Sadly, although that’s what I meant to say, that’s not exactly what came out of my mouth. I’d had friends around that night and we’d all been drinking. You know how I get once I start drinking especially if I get a bee in my bonnet about something. Well, I did get a bee in my bonnet about something – the way he had treated me for years. I don’t think it was unjustified either.
It ended up in a massive drunken fight because that’s what happens when you try to reason with an ex after one too many glasses of vino. That’s why I’m glad I don’t drink like that anymore. I was such an angry drunk more often than not. Everything I shouldn’t have said, I said.
My mother got pulled into our fight so I pulled his mother right down with us. At the time, just to make things all the more complicated, my step-dad had just broken up with my mother and I’d made the mistake of introducing him to the Fireman’s mother. It wasn’t long before my pops was sleeping with her. If that wasn’t bad enough, the Fireman’s younger sister had been fooling around with my housemate – Bestie AND not long after we initially broke up, I ended up making the catastrophic mistake of sleeping with his older sister. I then made the even bigger catastrophic mistake of telling him all about it that night during that fight.
He called me a slut and I felt backed into a corner. If I was a slut, what the fuck were the women in HIS family? What names could we come up with for them? If me, my circle of friends, and my family members had already been around most of the females in his family, I hardly think calling me a slut was justified. Saying that just made things worse of course. There was pushing and shoving, shouting and screaming in each other’s faces. It was awful. I remember him saying to me, “If you say that one more time, I’ll shut you up!” So I did. And he did. He square-on punched me in the face.
Unluckily for him, my Bestie just happened to be coming out the front of the house at the exact moment I got punched outside it. He flew for the Fireman with a rage I’d never seen before and luckily, I’ve never seen since. For a a big guy, he sure could move fast. He had the Fireman’s head on the floor, threatening to punch his lights out. He’s too much of a good man though so he didn’t. I’m glad for that.
It took me a long time to ever forgive the Fireman for doing that to me, especially because he had done it in front of Bestie. I’d never seen him so angry and I hope to God I never need to see him that angry again. I dread to think what he’d do to the Hubby if he ever clapped eyes on him; a man who repeatedly beat me for five years of my life. But The Fireman – I couldn’t believe he had actually punched me in the face. It was quite the smash too – I had a black eye for weeks and after a lot of pain, I finally went for an x-ray. He’d slightly cracked my cheek bone / eye socket if I remember rightly.
We’d always had a somewhat volatile relationship but he’d never actually hit me before. There had always been pushing and shoving to the point where even his mother had commented on it one night, but he’d never actually punched me. I couldn’t believe he’d just punched me. We didn’t talk for a long time after that night, quite rightly too.
Not content with wrecking my face for a couple of weeks and seriously denting my ego, he then tried to turn most of mine and Bestie’s mutual friend’s against us, telling them that Bestie had smacked him. There was never any mention of him hitting ME. In fact, very few of our friends know about that to this day. It’s not really the kind of thing you want to shout from the rooftops about is it?
I’ve forgiven him now of course. I’ve made my peace with that night because deep down, I know I genuinely provoked that attack. I didn’t deserve the punch in the face but I’m pretty sure I hit him too. It may not have been a punch to his face but I know he got his fair share of slaps over the two or so years that we were doing our thing. He wasn’t a violent man. I wouldn’t say he was a woman-beater. I just think we brought out the worst in each other. That was the only time he’d ever actually hit me and I’ve never heard of him hitting any other girls he’s been dating. We have a very talkative set of mutual friends – I’m sure I’d soon hear about it.
I don’t know what compels a man to beat a woman. After being through a violent marriage and having my fair share of men punch me in the face (I must have one of those faces), I still don’t know what compels a man to hurt a woman. I’m all for equality but isn’t that a little too far? One of my slaps may have stung his face but I didn’t fracture bones in his head or give him a black eye for a couple of weeks. Sometimes these men don’t know their own strength. Or how much it hurts when they use it.
So there we have it – that time I got punched in the face by a Fireman.