Three Shorts Part III

Ever since I can remember my mother has told me that all men are alike. More specifically, "Men are all the same, they just come in different packages." I never really gave this any second thoughts, I mean because really, are our parents ever right about these types of things? Definitely not when you are a young teenage girl who knows everything in the world and whose parents couldn't possibly know what things are like today. But, amazingly, now that I am married, I know exactly what she is talking about.

My husband is no exception to these unwritten rules that all women are aware of. He doesn't care too much for frills or ruffles, he likes to chew with his mouth open and belch (and then blow it in my face), he is the biggest baby when he is sick, and whenever he gets together with his friends he becomes a 10 year old who likes to wrestle.

He and all his friends are into watching the fighting sports like UFC and we get together every couple of months to hang out and watch the fights. The women take this opportunity to catch up, cook and play with the babies. The guys take this opportunity to eat greasy potato chips, drink lots of beer and intensly stare at and analyze the fights. When the fights are over and their stomachs are full of greasy beer, they decide it is a great idea to try and be UFC fighters themselves. This results in not-quite-sober headlocks and 'rear-naked chokes' (I swear I didn't make this up). It usually ends because one of the women steps in and reprimands the men for acting like boys.

When we don't have the opportunity to all get together for fights, I oblige and watch them with the husband. I think the husband pretends that he is with the boys and the junk food because he always tries to get me to engage in combat during the commercials. I have learned long ago that while I am tough and stronger than most women, I am no match for my husband. (Did you see those muscles in the past post?) However, one time, I had a weak moment.

Although I don't quite remember, let's just say that I had been drinking and being so, my judgement was not what it should have been. The husband and I had just finished watching a UFC fight and the husband started picking on me. He was hyped up from watching all the sweaty, bloody fighters and the crowd screaming in anguish and excitement all at once. He started coming at me. You know, trying to provoke me into starting a fake fight so when I ended up getting hurt he could say that I was the one who started it. I took the bait and got his head into what I thought was a great headlock between my legs.

He stood there, staring at me and asked "Do you want me to show you how I can get out of this?"

"Sure. Go ahead and try." (I was cocky because my legs are stroooong. There have been a few occassions where I have been able to pin the husband down with my legs.)

He did some kind of quick wiggle-squirm-twist and was out before I knew what was going on. This marked the beginning of our battle. I tried to jump on his back. He dodged. He managed to pin me down. Then I would wiggle my way out and try to get him with my legs again. Laughter, screams and breathless pleas to stop in between the laughs were ignored.

Then the husband asked "Do you want to see how you're supposed to really pin someone with their legs?"

I was leery. During these play fights on various previous occassions, the husband has punched me, slapped me and kicked me. (All by accident of course. It's not like my husband beats me.) This didn't give me very much comfort in the fact that he would only show me and not hurt me in the process. But, as I said before, my judgement was not what it should have been. So I said "Ok. But don't hurt me!"

The husband positioned himself and told me where to stand and how. All of a sudden his leg was wrapped around my neck and one arm, held in place by his other leg and his hand was squeezing the grip tighter and tighter. At first it was funny. But then my arm was starting to cut into my neck and it was getting a little difficult to breathe. I could feel myself turning red from heat and because of a lack of oxygen to my brain. I couldn't talk too well, let alone breathe. All the while the husband is laughing. I finally gather up all the breath I can and manage a squeak of a scream to "Seriously stop, it hurts!"

When the husband lets go he is still laughing. And my head starts throbbing. Then I'm dizzy and need to sit down. I can't even stand up to get myself some water. Not to mention the bright red marks all around my neck. I had to sit down for 20 minutes before I felt okay to get up and walk around. And does the husband feel bad? Not in the least. To him, he has just won another UFC victory. I, on the other hand, vowed to never again engage in any sort of physical wrestling ever again.