Meeting Tyler Durden: Part 3

Didn’t read Part 2? Start here: Part 2

As I told you last time, Tyler began to change the year I began college. I believe the negative characteristics he began to show were always there, yet they were deep down. For some reason, a switch went off and the young man I had become friends with was no longer there. It got to the point in which I never knew if we’d be friends from one day to the next.

Without knowing it at the time, I was in an emotional abusive relationship. More on that later.

I’ve made this entire Tyler Durden analogy for a reason— something happened that summer that shook me to the core.

Tyler invited me to a party. That was never out of the ordinary, so I said, “Sure!” We got to the party and before we went inside, he stopped me from unbuckling my seat belt. “Okay, so, I wasn’t completely honest with you. This isn’t exactly a party.”

“What is it,” I said, quite fearful.

“It’s Fight Club night.”

Fight_club_rules_by_peanutman27

I swear this is true.

As we entered the home where the ‘party’ was, cheering began. I quickly realized Tyler had been the organizer of this event and I wanted to go home. I had no idea what was about to happen, but I was sure it was against some laws.

“Alright Gentleman… and ladies! Welcome to Fight Night! So, the fights will begin momentarily. But before we begin, we have a new guest with us.  It’s his first time here! And what do we say…?”

 “IF IT’S YOUR FIRST TIME AT FIGHT NIGHT, YOU HAVE TO FIGHT.”

Image

Yes. I was at a real life fight club. My heart began racing and I was ready to vomit. I looked around and I knew most of the guests. There were young women there, but it was an unspoken understanding they were there to oogle over the guys fighting.

Let it be known not all men in theatre are tiny and limp. No. Quite the opposite. There’s a lot of big strong men in theatre. Me, well, I’m not strong at all. I was in big trouble. But, I couldn’t leave. And, if I didn’t fight, I’d be the laughing stock of the entire department.

I was like a pig in a slaughter house.

I wandered away from the party, into the house garage and began thinking over my options. In the middle of the room was a punching bag. While alone, I gave it my best punch. OW! It hurt.

Tyler entered the garage. There was a moment of silence before he began punching the bag. And, if I didn’t know any better, this guy had had training from Muhammad Ali.

“So, Tyler… who am I going to have to fight tonight?”

Without looking away he said, “You’ll be fighting the person who invited you. So, you’re fighting me.”

Holy Shit, I thought.

 I’m going to die.

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