Reflecting on the past he could not remember how or why he had been invited the party. His immediate group of work mates were there, and a few additional guy who probably got invited to all the parties. They had the confidence and the cars to match, they were also five or six years older, so maturity probably helped. He had gone with a recently acquired girlfriend who was extremely popular in the wider working circle. He was punching way above his weight, which ironically proved to be completely the opposite later that evening.
The party was held at a yacht club. It had the usual oars on the walls with small engraved plates denoting the winners of a past race. The music was loud and late eighties with fashions to match. He had drunk enough to give him an air of confidence and danced with his girl for all to see. He carried a self-appointed arrogance for twenty-year-old with money in his pocket and not a care in the world.
She had made a deal of pointing out her ex-boyfriend who was finding it hard to stand due to the volume of beer he had consumed. He looked angry and made repeated attempts to cross the dance floor in their direction. Each time someone would prevent him and haul him back. She said they had broken up a week before meeting me and it ended badly. Her flaunting of a new boyfriend was doing nothing for keeping the peace.
Much later into the evening the disgruntled ex’ headed across the room towards him. They managed to side step his last obstacle and invaded his personal space.
“I’m gunna to give you sussh a kicking.” Was the drunken threat.
He looked at him, half in pity and half in anger at being threatened.
“Outside?” He suggested.
Crashing through the fire doors they exited onto a large hard surface leading to the water. He offered the drunk aggressor an opportunity to back down, but ardour was up and backing down was not an option. Stepping forward, both fists raised and four letter words in flow, battle commenced.
He looked at the drunk and realised the assailant thought they were moving faster than their brain told them. Body movements resembled running in deep water.
It was over faster than it began. Stepping to one side the first blow landed squarely on the nose, followed in quick succession by another the cheek. The aggressor staggered back clutching their bleeding nose, tripped backwards and collapsed.
He walked over, spoke to check all was okay, and calmly walked away. The battle was won and he felt very much alive.
The following day he was wracked by guilt. Already he had received two calls congratulating him on actions. He certainly didn’t feel that he had done something good, and when the third call arrived to announce his opponent would be off work for at least 2 weeks due to his face being such a mess, he threw up.
When his girlfriend called round to offer physical reward for his valour, he knew he had been used. It could not have been clearer that the man with the now broken nose was a pawn in a game that she knew he would lose. The odds were in her favour all along as this new boyfriend was much bigger and by far less drunk. He looked at her naked in his bedroom, and despite her blonde hair, perfect body and her sexual advances, she was indeed a very ugly human being.