Last night I was wired and tired. Went to bed after letting off some blog style steam and put last nights events to the back of my mind. Woke up this morning though, and those three little words greeted me.
“She hit me”.
Really? I mean, seriously, really, did that happen? I think back to last night and I can’t quite believe it. W T F ???
I shrug it off, because, well no man worth his salt is going to complain that he was slapped by a woman. Part of me is saying, ‘it was nothing’, but the other part of me is hands clamped over ears to block out the alarm bells going off in my head. She hit me. It’s difficult to swallow. The act hurt not at all, but the intent was there. I keep asking myself, playing it over in my head, there must be a mistake, I must have got it wrong. She hit me? No way. That can’t be right, maybe I dreamt it. The ramifications of this are huge, but it is in the – well, it probably resides in our socio-genetic makeup of what makes up man. It’s in our make up to ignore it, forget it. Pretend it never happened.
First, I’m a big guy. She’s smaller, lighter, weaker. Does one raise complaint when struck by a smaller assailant? It didn’t hurt; and that is not just macho bravado. I was stunned by what she did because she did it rather than because it hurt.
Second, is this going to be the way she vents frustration in future? By lashing out physically? Do I want any part of that? What I shrug off as nothing would hurt Tom. If she gets as angry with him as she did with me, will she hit him too?
I’m playing this down. Not making a fuss. Pretending it doesn’t mean anything. I’m not a victim! She hit me, but I am not a victim! I feel foolish even talking about it. What does it all mean?
“She hit me”. Fucking hell…