Dragging your boyfriend with the car

Dear Chris,

Not two days after my confession to you, Chris Henry, wide receiver for the Cincinnati Bengals died after "coming out" of the bed of a pick up truck which was being driven by his fiancee. Cincinnati newscasters don't mention the "domestic dispute" associated with the incident.

We were in a nightclub in a hotel. I love to dance. We had met at a dance. My boyfriend liked to dance, but he liked drinking even more. He also liked to pick fights; if not with random strangers, then me. I was unfamiliar with the mind and word games he would use to create animosity. I was an easy target.

"Hey, do you think that guy is cute?"
"What guy?"
"That guy, with the shirt on."
"The blue shirt?"
"No, the gray shirt!"
"Not really, I mean, he's ok." (I think this is a real question.)

"you don't think he's cute? "
"Well, maybe he's all right."
"Would you date him?"
"But I'm dating you."
"Yeah, but if you weren't dating me....you would go out with him, right?"
"Yeah, ok, I might."
"Yes or no, Would you date him?"
"ok, yes, why not? Yes." (Whew, that was grueling, what a way to entertain my tipsy companion.)

"Ok, what about that other guy." (Uh oh, now its a test.)
"Which one?"
"That one, right there."
"No"
"would you date him?"
"No"
"Why not?"
"I don't know. I don't know him?"
"You would date the other guy but not him!? He is way better looking!"
"Ok, well I guess I would." (What the hell does he want me to say?)
"Yes or no, Would you date him!?"
"Ok yes."

"What about that guy?"
"Which guy?"
"That guy." (The guys are all looking alike by now and I have no idea who "that guy" is, but I'm bored with this game.)
"Yes."
"Yes what!? I haven't even asked you yet!"
"Yes, I would date him." (Good grief this is a stupid conversation.)

Silence. (whew)
"You're just a goddamned whore!"
"What?"
"fukin' slut! You just want to fuck everything, don't you!? (Where did that come from?)
"I do not. Why are you saying that?"
"You just said you would fuck all those guys!"
"No, that is not what I said......"
"YOU are a FUKIN' WHORE!"
"Look, settle down, I don't have to put up with this!"
"cuntwhoreslutbitch!" (My internal snicker causes the corners of my mouth to turn up involuntarily.)
"You think this is funny!?"
"You are acting ridiculous!"
"You're being a fukin' whore!"
"I want to go home now."
"No!"
(He gets up and staggers to the bathroom.)

This is ridiculous I tell myself. One more moment spent with this man is insanity. (I am gulping diet cola.) I drive, he drinks. He doesn't even have a job! Stopped taking classes! I'm buying his beer! I should just leave him here!

I've talked myself into leaving. So I do. Walking quickly, I head for the way to the parking lot.

"Sarah!" (shit)
"Sarah, wait!" (I start to run. across the sky walk.)
"I said wait!" (Run faster, heels suck, keys in my hand.)
"Hey! Stop!" (Hurry! unlock car, get in car, close door, hurry, lock doors.)
"Wait!" (start car, hurry, car in reverse, back up, oh no! here he comes, hurry, now in drive, step on gas, oh please,)
"Sarah!" (banging on window, glad doors are locked, drive away!)

AHHHHHH! (Oh shit.)
AHHHHH! (Stop or go to jail for hit and run. I'll lose my nursing license. I'll lose my drivers license. shit. stop car. get out.)
"Are you all right?"
"Noooo! Help me!"
"Are you hurt?"
"Yes!"
"where?"
"all over"
"can you move?"

Turns out dummy had grabbed hold of the door to get in and did not let go. I had dragged him. No significant injury, just a lot of road rash.

"Take me to the hospital!"
"It's just road rash, you'll live!"
"You tried to kill me!"

I drove us home and took off his shoes when he passed out on the couch.

Sarah