Fighting Tyler Durden (Meeting Tyler #4)

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The wrestling mat was in the backyard. Large lights had been placed on two opposite sides. The fights had apparently started. Tyler wandered near the front of the ‘arena’, while I stayed near the back.

Now, to be honest, it was not meant for anyone to get injured during the fights. However, it still was pretty brutal: punching was allowed except in the face and you couldn’t hit anyone in the balls. Unlike the “Fight Club” Rules, you could wear a shirt if you wanted. Most of the men did, as I recall.

The fight taking place was between our tallest built member and a shorter, yet very quick member. The tall fellow was my next closest friend in the group, and I was surprised he was participating. Yet, I did notice he wasn’t overly tough in his punching, but he did still win the fight.

And now, it was my turn.

I got onto the mat and I was shaking. This was out of my comfort zone by a million times. I watched as Tyler put on open fingered gloves and took off his black sweatshirt he always wore. As I said in my first entry, Tyler was not a psychically imposing man. He was average height and was on the thinner side. But, he was strong. He wasn’t the strongest man in the group, but his strength was certainly above mine. I knew he could punch well and I knew he was quick. I had no training in any athletic capacity and this was obviously a mismatched fight.

“Um, how do we know who wins?” I asked Tyler.

He laughed. “You’ll know.”

Someone shouted the fight had started and Tyler was coming at me fast.

I put my fists up like I knew what I was doing. Tyler came at my left side and punched me hard. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it caused me to lurch backward.

 POW! He hit me in the stomach that time. That one hurt. I managed to pull myself forward and braced my fist toward his right shoulder. I missed. BAM! His fist rammed in my chest. He had used full force this time and I was winded.

Non of the men were cheering. But, the women were. My name was being shouted, as were things like, “You can do it!” “Hit him hard!” “Take him down!” And, my favorite, “We love you!”

Tyler did not like me getting all the support so he hit me as hard as he could in the stomach. This knocked me down. I didn’t move what felt like forever, hoping the fight would end. But then, a man shouted, “Come on, get back up! You got this!”

I got to my feet and stared Tyler in the face. “That hurt,” I told him. He smirked at me. A sort of devilish smirk. A smirk I would see later in our friendship as well.

After sort of jumping in place, Tyler began coming toward me again. I could tell he was coming for my shoulder… I realized there was only one way I would win this thing…

BLAMMO! I punched at his jawline as hard as I could. Tyler was shocked and fell down. The men let out a gasp. But, the women let out a cheer. I couldn’t help but smile. But when I saw a bruise forming down his lip, I knew I was in trouble.

“You hit me. In. The. Face.” Tyler exclaimed, glaring at me from down on the floor. And then, like a snake in grass, he crawled very fast toward my leg and pulled me down. He rolled me onto my back and got on top of me and was ready to kill me. He began to punch me on the sides— he still had enough willpower to not aim for the face. This only lasted a couple of seconds before he was pulled off by some of the men. But, the damage was done. My left side was sore. And as I write this, a phantom pain has overcome me.

It goes without saying, Tyler was extremely upset with me the rest of the night— and didn’t talk to me for a few weeks afterward.

Next time, the series will come to an end as I reveal what the straw was that broke the camel’s back — and how this unhealthy friendship came to an end.

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