Weight cutting/body transformation week 1
I’ve been fighting for a long time, not counting the years of wrestling and boxing I did before. I turned pro in 2005 at age 18. For as long as I could remember I’ve been punching and kicking imaginary opponents/world champions.To this day when I shadow box I still do the same thing. When I first started out fighting, I’d be scheduled for a fight a month in advance, then I’d start training hard, sparring would intensify and cardio would be kicked up a notch. Then I’d fight and my opponent and I would be terribly gassed by the end of the fight. I assumed that was part of fighting.
Then the UFC started doing the countdowns, the training camps of champions and challengers leading up to the big fights. I saw guys like Sean Sherk and GSP doing all these crazy exercises and really training at a different level than what I had seen. They were in terrific shape, going 100% the entire fight and still looking strong after the. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even understand how or where to begin. I changed my ways a bit after that, doing more cardio in-between fights, cleaning up my diet a little. But it wasn’t enough.
A couple of years ago I was signed to a Bellator contract, basically the number two organization behind the UFC. In order to compete with these guys I had to take my training to another level. Not just physically but mentally. A lot of people don’t understand how much ring jitters and anxiety plays such a pivotal role in the fight business. I had to step up my game in every aspect.
I hired a great mental coach in Englishman Scott Stevenson, a sports psychology professor and all around mental Jedi. The guy knows his stuff, working with many top athletes from around the world. After many long sessions and conversations, I can attest that I have less anxiety in life and fighting, as well as not having had a Snickers bar in over a year.
Alongside Scott I worked with a couple of fitness gurus who implement Martin Rooneys Training For Warriors, a great all around program that took my fitness up to the next level. Being strong or good isn’t enough in mma, you have to have a complete package.
Since coming back to the states I’ve teamed up with a great BJJ professor, Dave Camarillo black belt and co founder of Guerilla jiu Jitsu, Matt Darcy. My technique is going through the roof and I’m actually applying proper technique, something I neglect by using more athleticism.
Last but not least my new strength and conditioning coaches, Travis and Kevin, owners of Bodies by Amorim. Since coming to them I feel like I’m going to break people. With all the tire flipping and sledgehammer swinging I’ve been doing, my body has never looked better. I’ve always had a chubbier build, strong but not ripped like others in my profession. The only time I’d see abs was the day of weigh ins. Not anymore. For the first time in my life I have a six pack. I’m proud of the progress I’ve made.
So for this camp I did a 12 week periodization training and I’m coming into my last 4 weeks. I won’t tell you about the technical sides of my training, that stuff is a secret. The first four weeks I did Olympic power lifting, basically low reps heavy weight, maximum strength. I got huge! I bulked up to about 190. The next phase I did functional weight lifting. The movement under load, so still heavy weights but more movement involved, like weighted lunges, more functional type lifts to get my power up.
These four weeks I’m going to strictly be doing conditioning, body weight exercises. Today I weighed in at 182, I’ve lost a little bit of muscle mass in the last 4 weeks from not lifting as heavy, a natural and beneficial side effect. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been going into these last four weeks. Every week I’ll be documenting my conditioning, my diet/portion control and body weight. I’m excited for oct 11th, the fighter on that day will be leaps and bounds above that cocky 18 year old kid that was in over my head when i started. Join me in my journey, fly with me. It’s time to Rise.
Weight cutting/body transformation week 1
Alpha males or stepping stones?
Disclaimer: I am in no way shape or form sexist, I believe everyone should be treated equally. When I train with girls I try to smash them just as hard as I would a guy, it’s my way of showing respect. Anything less would be dishonorable.
Thousands of years ago the universe saw fit to arm man with zero sharp teeth and no claws. Our cave men ancestors instead relied on superior brain power and wits to develop weapons and traps to hunt physically superior animals. Meanwhile back at the cave our female counterparts waited patiently for the men to provide them with the days meat in return for warm beds at night. An arguably fair trade. Fast forward to the 20th century. Women win the right to vote after marching their high heeled asses off. They suddenly have equal rights. Awesome, they can do the hunting for a change whilst we wait at home, pondering the universe an the meaning of life (watching porn or sports). I’m totally cool with this. Women deserve equal rights. If they can carry the load, by all means do it.
Here’s the problem with guys though; We put the vagina on a pedestal. Girls didn’t do it, we did. Since the dawn of time we men would walk thousands of miles, hunt ridiculously large animals, swim through icy water etc. in the HOPES that a woman would honor us with a “roll”. We put it on the pedestal. Instead of saying I will give you meat and glittering prizes if you mate with me, it’s after I bring you meat and glittering prizes I hope you’ll want to maybe just might touch me in a non friendly way. We are shameful shadows of our grunting beastial ancestors.
Fast forward again. Present day. Location: any MMA gym anywhere. All the guys are focused, boxing, rolling bjj, wrestling etc. great practice. Suddenly, a girl walks in the room with a gear bag. Testosterone levels go through the roof. The wolves smell meat, our primitive instincts force us to do this, we can’t help it. It’s time to pick partners. The dedicated ones pick the strongest match for themselves, the one that’s going to push them. But a select few suddenly can’t find a partner. Oh of course, there’s a girl. These nonchalant idiots ” uh do you have a partner” to the girl. This girl could be day one zero experience, but for some reason this type of guy gets his rocks off on rolling with the girl. Suddenly mid drilling the room hears conversations of what they like to eat and movies they’ve seen recently. I can’t help but shake my head. It went from practice to a potential dating service. I’m not saying girls aren’t dedicated or good, but what the hell would I have to gain from rolling competitively with a first day white belt? If someone says you get better by teaching go slap yourself in the face. While yes it’s true, there is also a time and place. Don’t be a contrarian. Live rolling starts. The dedicated ones find the baddest mfers on the mat. Me personally I hunt belt colors. I stare at guys until they make eye contact. Sometimes I force the issue and walk up,” oh you have a partner, ok cool next round”. Locked in. The “other” guys can’t wait to roll with this girl that barely trains. And showing her moves after. What the F?? Its called live rolling not let me show you this basic move like its the wheel that you don’t know yet because you just started. The purpose of rolling is to smash or be smashed. If I want to know the move I just got caught in ill ask after the round is over. I swear when a girl walks in the room it’s like she’s the last one on earth and every guy is chomping at the bit. Disgraceful
Do girls even like this type of guy? Is this what you picture when you think cave man meat getter? Aren’t men supposed to be these manly alpha warriors that bash enemy heads in? Or is every girls dream to be with these guys that just lay down for them? I heard a great quote the other day about dancing ” used to be a guy just did a two step, one, two, while the girl got her shine on. Now every time a girl dances these guys take it as a personal challenge, trying to out dance them.” -Scruncho
My hearts desire is to be the best that I can be, I see other guys as target practice, like ladders that bring me up the mountain. Stepping stones. I want to face the baddest dudes possible. If I stopped to show every girl that walked in the room a move I would be walking in circles. I’m not saying I won’t roll with a girl, I would just prefer rolling with someone equal or better than me, that’s how I’m going to get better.
So in closing, put the vagina back where it belongs, say it with your chest, EQUAL. Roll with guys or girls that will make you better, it’s a bjj mat not a dating service. Let girls get their shine on when they are dancing, stick with the two step. Man up.
Edit to clarify, I should have said a few things better:
I have a fight 8 weeks away, I’m in training camp at the moment. Twice a week at my school we have a session called marathon roll, 12×5 minute rounds in a row no rest. The goal is to get as many taps as possible, at the end of the session we line up and dole out push-ups for every tap we earned. Simple stuff and everyone rolls pretty competitively. So at this session I try to roll with the stronger more seasoned guys, I strongly believe in the iron sharpening iron quote.
I try to avoid girls at all cost during this session, my opponent in 8 weeks isn’t a girl obviously so the more physically strong the better at this point.
To answer whether I roll like a douche or not. If I were rolling with a girl or male with significantly less weight I would try to use less weight and play a more technical game but still looking to submit. I’m not “letting” anyone put me in a triangle/rnc, I feel like that’s a disservice to them. Maybe that makes me douche, but I can’t remember anyone letting me put anything on them in the beginning.
When I say I roll the same I didn’t think my words would be picked apart and used so literally as you have. I should have said I roll with the same intent, to submit them and not be submitted by them. My competition/fight is looking to beat me up in any way possible, shouldn’t I prepare for that?
The ego in mma/fitness at the moment is terrible. My newsfeed is flooded with selfies and quotes like “get on my level” or stuff that points out how hard they work out compared to others. My favorite one is usually on Fridays and Saturdays when guys/girls post “I’m in the gym on Friday night, how’s the club?” My reaction? Mfer I’m at home with my kid because I did my workouts at a decent time, good for you ya trailblazer :/
In the pursuit of doing anything to be different we often become the opposite, the same as everyone else. We forget how to be individual, losing ourselves to be what we want to be. I’m not saying changing yourself for the better is bad, but the egoism that goes with it isn’t necessary. We forget why we workout in the first place, our health. It shouldn’t be about outdoing the next guy. It’s about bettering yourself. I’m terrified of dying young or of a health related disease, so I push myself in the gym and eat things that aren’t considered comfort food and tastes like dirt. Small sacrifice to see my great grand kids. I don’t give a sh*t if anyone I know sees me working out or eating healthy because I’m not doing it for them, I do it so I feel good about myself. Sometimes ill post a quick video of doing something cool, but it’s more to market the gym/team/coach that I’m working with. I’m not doing anything different than anyone else, I’m no pioneer in the fitness/mma industry. When I see power lifters post their stuff or professional body builders, that’s something else entirely. That stuff is impressive! My selfie probably looks like most guys, no need to post it. I’m not lifting extraordinary amounts of weight that I deserve a medal or a round of applause for. I love the way I feel before/during/after a training/gym session. That’s for me, not anyone else. Facebook or twitter won’t make me feel better by posting it, I don’t need “likes” to feel good about myself. Social media junkies are silly. If I inspire anyone along the way I hope it’s because of the way I carry myself, hopefully with good character.
I apologize if I pushed any buttons, I’m not tagging anyone specifically. Be happy and be you, don’t be one of those guys. Feel good about yourself, don’t rely on others to do it for you. Have a great, productive, lazy, exciting, (whatever!) weekend. Ous
One day, high on mount Olympus, two sisters were playing a game of Mortal Chess. a favorite game of the Gods.Venus, the Goddess of love, sat waiting as Diana, Goddess of the hunt, pondered her next move. Diana, was holding a favored piece, an Amazonian huntress, full of grace and beauty. She treasured the mortal for her devotion, who always offered her hunt to the Goddess first. Diana guarded her heart jealously for fear of losing the huntress. Would be suitors were turned away in scorn, her mind reserved only for the hunt. Now Venus, who was a jealous God herself, had come up with a plan. She whispered in her son Cupids ear….
The huntress had set out early that morning. Winter was fast approaching and she wanted to be well stocked before the snows came. She threw on a simple white toga, ripped at the thigh to allow free movement. She slid the quiver of arrows, fletched herself, over her shoulder and gathered her bow. It was a beautiful piece she had crafted herself from a yew branch. She walked out of her casa, near the edge of the forest. She stopped at a stream nearby, scooping the cool water with her hands to quench her thirst. It would be a long run.
She took off at a lope, her strides long and graceful. She ran barefoot, foregoing sandals for want of silent movement. Not even the birds stirred when she was on the hunt. Diana had blessed her with uncanny abilities, and she used them well. The perfect hunter.
After running through the forest for most of the morning, she finally spotted animal signs. Bending to one knee to examine them, she smiled in satisfaction. They were Deer tracks, and fresh. Her prey was close, she resumed her run, easily following the tracks. This was the part she loved most, the chase. As the miles melted away, she slowed her pace. Her quarry was near.
She crouched low, Sliding from tree to tree, near invisible to the untrained eye. Spotting a glade, the sun shining through, she pulled her bow from shoulder. Beautiful flowers in full bloom dotted the forest floor, odd for the season. In the middle of the glade, munching on grass, stood her prey; a beautiful doe, serene and vulnerable. The huntress crept, slowly pulling an arrow and notching it as she closed the distance. So close now. She halted her movement and rose. She pulled the arrow back, taking aim. Suddenly, the doe looked up, turning towards the huntress. Still aiming, the huntress inhaled at the sight. Time froze.
Venus smiled across the board at her sister Diana. The goddess of love had tricked the huntress and Diana could do nothing but look on. Finally, she let out a sigh, nodding her head. Cupids arrow flew.
The huntress put her arrow back in its sheath. The doe darted away, into the woods, obscured from view. Seeing her go, the huntress felt regret, not for want of lost quarry, but something deep within her, a feeling she had never had before. Despair overcame her, and she was left wanting.
Suddenly, walking through the glade was a dark skinned maiden.The huntress stared in wonder, her heart leaping. Words couldn’t describe how she felt. Never before had she seen anything so beautiful. She set down her bow on the forest floor and walked towards the maiden, their gazes locked. Without word or thought, they embraced as if longtime lovers. They held one another, their cheeks touching, lost in the moment. Hand in hand they walked from the glade, their hearts beating as one. The huntress would never hunt again, her soul content in her lovers arms, abstaining from all meat, thus becoming the first vegetarians.
Diana handed the huntress piece to her sister Venus, who smiled in triumph. Cupid floated around the room, happy to do his mothers bidding. The goddess of the hunt had mixed feelings. She did not like losing her prized piece but couldn’t help being happy for the two lovers. Watching them embrace, she chuckled to herself, got up from the table, and walked quietly to her room.
There are people out there that have a photographic memories. They read something and they can pull it up at anytime like a human google search. My brother Aaron is like that, never had homework, did it all in class, graduated with honors etcSmart mfer. I’m the opposite. Tell me your address or phone number, it’s gone before I can write it down. But ask me about the first time I said a curse word (shit, 2years old), the first time I kissed a girl (4, amber, fort Mohave) and it all comes flying back. I can recall things that happened to me over the years with crazy clarity. I can recall not just key moments like the first day of school or first time I punched someone (sorry Tyler), but the silly things, like the second day of school. But mostly, I remember the people that have wronged me.
It’s been an ongoing battle in my head. I hold grudges and wrongdoings like its a job. It sucks my energy. Yeah sure I forgive people, move on, don’t dwell etc but the second I see them, it all comes back. I remember the first time I got called a scrub, 7th grade. My parents had racked up a bit of debt, so I had basically enough clothes to last a week. I got on the bus for school as usual, when this kid, Cody secor goes” hey didn’t u wear that last week? Are you poor or something. F*ing scrub.” I was embarrassed for sure. Hurt a ton. It wasn’t my fault we didn’t have enough. I wanted to kill this guy, he was a little rat but unfortunately his cousin gene had hit puberty at five years old and outweighed me by a hundred pounds. So 7th grade I rode the bus everyday in shame, always holding my breath for the torment that might follow. Years later my closet is overflowing with clothes from sponsors and superman shirts, a testament to that burning moment. I buy ANYTHING Juliet wants. It’s been years, but I’d still slap the ish out of him if we crossed paths.
I could go on and on, throwing names out, the stories never ending. The problem for me is, it goes with friends and family as well. I hold wrongdoings up front. It effects my judgement and decisions. My mom is really sick right now. She has a tumor on her kidney, and a bit of stomach cancer. I haven’t talked to her in a long time. No point in talking about why. But I think it’s time to forgive and try to forget. I don’t want to wait until its too late. Enough people have died in my life for me to know this doesnt last forever. So with great regret ill be leaving Thailand soon. Not for good mind you, this place still has my heart. My dad owes me a hug as well. I’m getting too old to be unforgiving. My daughter is too great of a joy for me to have a cloud on my heart.It’s time to remember the good and forget the bad. It’s time for peace.
The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper. -Eden Philpotts.
As I climbed down from my horse, I couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long journey, the days spent in the saddle had not been kind. My aching legs were a testament to my lack of equestrianship. But I was home. It had been many years since I journeyed out from these walls. The familiarity was instant, the main thoroughfare mostly unchanged. The bakers shop still stood. I could smell the fresh baked bread, the scent bringing back the times mother had sent me to fetch a loaf for supper. Sometimes, when the baker was in a good mood, he’d slip me a cinnamon loaf. I absently wondered if he still owned the place, he had been getting old then, he’d be ancient now. I walked on. It was good to be home. Too long had i been in the eastern lands. I had seen much and learned more.Wandering down a side street, I walked passed the old shop.
No one had taken up the business after my father had passed. I didn’t have a hand for upholstery, let alone one that could craft such pieces as him. I would sit under his work table, my makeshift castle,for hours while he cut and stitched leather works. Sometimes I would catch him staring off, as if in a dream. I knew he was thinking of mother. She had left him, the gambling and his wandering eye had been too much. “One day ill make it right” he often said. He never got the chance.
The apothecary said it was a tumor in his brain. His health deteriorated quickly after that visit, and he was soon bedridden. I sat at his bedside that last day, he had asked me to show him some of the magic my cousin, Alfonso, had taught me over the years. My father loved watching me. I made things disappear and reappear, pulling birds from my robes, my famous “red silk cloth” from my empty hands and all the clever things I had picked up in my apprenticeship. I looked up, he had that same look in his eye when he thought of mother. I touched his hand, it was cold.
I continued on, up and down the streets of my youth. Smokey, my dog, and I would roam the streets, darting through crowds, always on an adventure. A better companion couldn’t be found. Sleeping at the foot of my bed most nights, always on guard despite his small size. Shaking off the nostalgia, I wandered into a tavern.
The room was well lit, not overly crowded with patrons. Tending the bar was a giant of a man, busying himself cleaning glasses and chatting with customers. Setting down his glass, he walked across to me and took my order, an Ale. I spotted a table in the corner where a small crowd gathered around a man, shuffling sea shells. It was a game I had seen in bazaars of the east, expert cons preying on unknowing fools. Wandering over, I watched intently as the shell man “set” the coin on the table. covering it with one of the shells, he expertly palmed the coin, hidden from the untrained eye . In a blur, he deftly shuffled the shells around. The man who had wagered, chose the left. Upon flipping to see it empty, he cursed and got up, walking back to the bar. I sat down, laying a small sack of coins on the table. The con man eyed the bag greedily. “Big wager. Confident!” he said. I smiled. He matched the purse. Laying the coin under the shell, the same ruse as before, he began shuffling the shells. A blur once again. Coming to a sudden halt, he sat back in his chair with a knowing grin. I chose the middle. He leaned forward to flip the shell. “Wait” I said. I batted his hand aside and flipped over the outside shells. Empty. The blood drained from his face, turning pale. I stood up, gathered the coins, accepted praise and claps on the back from the other patrons.
Back at the bar, the big man walked over with another mug, set it down in front of me. “on the house”. And walked to the other end. I smiled, sipping the strong drink.
Disclaimer: all characters and events in this story are purely fictional and used for entertainment purposes only. I’m certainly not as cool as the guy in the story. Thanks for reading.
I liked everything to have a plan. Everything in my life had a checklist, an order to it. I didn’t stray off the path, everything planned and accounted for. My parents perfect little school girl. Graduate college, become a lawyer,marry my high school sweet heart, raise kids. The American dream.
Of course, that would have been too easy.Just when i thought my life had been made up, fate, or my ex boyfriend, decided to shatter my plans like a broken mirror. He wanted “to do it on his own” he said. Unbelievable. Five years of my life and not a second thought. To say I was lost would be an understatement. So for the first time in my life, I did something out of the ordinary.
I put in for an immediate transfer at my law firm and would finish my internship abroad. My plane landed at Heathrow airport, London, England a week later. I figured if I was going to find a knight in shining armor, id better start from their beginnings. Chivalry was certainly dead in my neck of the woods.Having had my shoulder cried on from friends and their “boys” broken promises over the years, I decided I would not be a victim. I would survive this.
I arrived at my new residence, a small flat off of Hyde Park, across from Kensington Palace. A fitting place to find Prince Charming. A fellow American girl named Adrienne, or “A” as I nicknamed her was to be rooming with me. She was studying business at the Imperial college nearby. A mutual ballet friend of ours had suggested the rooming. I had begun dancing in ballet when I was three at my mothers behest. The stage was the one place I felt invincible, where I could truly be me. “To see me dance was to see through a window into my soul” my mother would say. Adrienne and I became fast friends, she was easy to talk to and the least judge mental person I had ever met.
We did everything together. From sunrise to sundown we took in all the sights London had to offer. Big Ben, the eye, The Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, all of it. Once, while viewing the Royal Golden Carriage, we overheard a little girl say in the sweetest voice ” mommy, what can’t I be a princess “. I loved Adrienne’s reply “I was just thinking the same thing” . We all laughed and bonded in that moment. Just four peasant girls, a speck in the universe. And we were happy.
The night life was never dull in London. We would go to the different pubs and local hangouts or even a club if we wanted to stretch our dance legs. One night we attended an exclusive club in Mayfair called Mahiki. After hours of dancing we took a trip to the restroom, where I nearly ran into a tall man, who upon looking down at me I realized was none other than his Highness, Prince Harry. He smiled an apology to which I replied with a scowl and walked passed him. Seconds later I realized what I had done and kicked myself throughout the night. Nice one, there went my shot at royalty.
The months flew by, the trips to stonehenge, Bath, all the places I had read about as a little girl. My internship and time here was coming to an end. I never found my knight, for whatever reason, they all seemed to be lacking the quality I was searching for, never the right fit. Sure I was a sucker for the English accent and smooth charm the London men seemed to possess, but something was missing. Lots of first dates and gifts, nothing worth keeping. It didn’t matter, I had found myself again. I wasn’t the same heart broken girl that had first stepped off the plane. As I hugged my best friend goodbye before my trip back to America, we both promised to keep in touch, to see each other soon. We would of course, sisters would find it hard to be as close as we had become.
Back in the states little had changed, it was the same repeat of Malls,McDonalds,Target, gas stations on every corner. American culture is shopping and eating with very little history to look at. I met my friend for lunch in L.A. where over the last year she had become quite the fashionista. She was interning for a high end clothing company. That weekend she was going to be attending an event in Las Vegas for her company. She asked if I wanted to join her, not having anything better to do, I agreed.
After checking in to our hotel, we headed to the mall where my friends brand was opening a store. The turn out was really good, tons of people had shown up to check out the ripped up jeans and faded tees. I was more of a Gucci girl myself, but was happy to show off the free clothes she had given me to rock around. After the event my friend pointed excitedly to a poster of two shirtless guys staring at each other. Apparently a there was to be a UFC event that evening. My friend had been a long time fan, often going to events and being able to name all the fighters. She said we have to get tickets. Not wanting to spoil her fun, I told her I would tag along.
We got to the fights early, my friend wanting to take pictures with all of the fighters and MMA names. It was all lost on me, I had never been into the violence or sweaty men rolling around. Take me to the theatre for a musical or broadway any day. She would rush excitedly back and forth in all directions to snap a shot with this guy or that guy, all the names went over my head. The show started we sat in the nosebleeds, watching the Big screen more than the actual cage, the result of the late notice tickets. I played with my phone most of the night, feigning excitement when my cousin said something. The main event came and went, finally, it was over.
We worked our way through the crowd, I was exhausted as was, my friend buzzing with excitement still. I spotted a Starbucks near the exit. My savior! While she was snapping photos I rushed to get in line. Ordering my usual, tall vanilla latte, I paid and waited on the other end of the counter. Scanning the crowd for my friend, I finally spotted her mid cheesy smile with a fighter who had fought in the event, his cuts freshly stitched. I chuckled at her enthusiasm, she loved this stuff.
I grabbed my latte off the counter and walked back to her. Noticing someone else, she walked towards a group of guys. She chatted them up, seeming to know one of them, a short stocky guy with blonde hair and lots of tattoos. Fighters everywhere! I scanned the group, my eyes stopped on one in particular.The first thing I noticed was his neck, it was so thick, like a bull. Then his ears, they were mangled like most of the guys around, a testament to the savagery of the sport. Cauliflower or something my friend had said. He had long dark hair, a square jaw, aquiline nose that looked to be unbroken, rare for his profession. He was built like most of the guys there, well muscled, but his chin made him look even more the superhero. A regular clark kent lookalike.I envied my cousins easy outgoingness. Not the type to put myself out there, ever since the break up, my confidence had been shot. I exhaled, finally. Sour Grapes. He was probably a meat head anyway.
After a few minutes my friend wandered back to where I had been waiting. I was exhausted. I had worn heels that night, my feet were aching. My hotel bed was calling my name. As we were walking towards the exit I asked, in the most nonchalant way I could muster, who the fighter that looked like superman was. “An up and comer, not exactly in the big time but on his way” she had said. “Oh, he’s cute”I told her. Just then the fighter with the shaved head walked up and invited us to the after party. I declined, I’m really tired but thank you I said. My friend, with her mischievous smile “I bet you superman will be there”. And so we hopped in a taxi and we were off to the club.
I spent the next hour looking around, dancing, throwing back a drink when I was asked. I’m a total light weight, after one I’m buzzing. I kept looking for him. Finally I spotted my friend, dancing with the shaved head fighter from earlier. Interesting. At least I was getting warmer. I walked up to them and asked him, cooly, or so I thought, about his friend he had been with earlier. “Oh him? He never goes to these things, hates partying. He went back to the room”. God dammit, I thought. Just my luck. “Hey, you guys want to come back to mine and hang for a bit?” Um, yeah! I thought. ” sure, I guess we could come by for a little bit”.
This is not how it’s supposed to work. My knight was at home in bed while I was coming to his rescue. If I wanted a fairy tale I would have to go get it apparently.
We took a cab back to his hotel. The ride over felt like an eternity. I was a little kid all over again asking are we there yet over and over. I practically leapt out of the taxi when we arrived. I had to tell myself to calm down. It was just a guy after all. An extremely, good looking, guy. You got this girl. Keep it together. The elevator arrived at their floor, I had to stop myself from rushing them. We tiptoed into the room, the lights were out. Then I saw him. He was half under the covers, one arm dangling over the side of the bed, a tattooed arm that I had not seen earlier. Suddenly the other guy jumped onto the bed and said “hey buddy! I got a present for ya!” He groaned as he awoke. Probably not the best way to wake up. Stretching, his eyes scanned the room, he got up, no shirt. ohmygodohmygod. What a view. i told myself id start hitting the dance room again next week. I averted my eyes, My blush must have painfully obvious. I sat on the coach, kicking my heels off, finally. He walked to the bathroom without a word. The two drunks started chatting away about the fights from earlier. I had little input, it was all Greek to me. He came out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, brushing away absent-mindedly. He asked his buddy how the night went. They talked enthusiastically, telling him all about the after party and how a fight had broken out between two famous fighters, I had been touching up my makeup, missing the whole thing. He excused himself and went back to the bathroom. Well hello to you too, I thought.
I heard the water running from the sink. I sat on the coach in the corner of the room. He came back out, walking towards the coach. Thumpthumpthump. Stop blushing! He extended his hand, ” sorry I didn’t catch your name, or do you not have one just a pretty face.” He laughed at his own line, I smiled, telling him my name.
He sat on the other end of the coach. Think of something to ask him, come on. ” so you fight huh “? Smooth. ” yeah I try, so far so good. And you, what do you do”? I told him about my internship in London and how I had just gotten back.that seemed to spark his interest, thank God he didn’t want to talk about fighting, it would have been a short conversation. He asked me all about my travels. Did I try fish and chips, did I meet any of the royalty etc. he was surprisingly easy to talk to, I found myself relaxing more. The flirty comments back and forth were fun too. Not a meat head at all. Touché.
My friend and his friend had passed out on opposite ends of the bed. It was getting late, i wasn’t ready for this to end. He asked if I wanted to sleep on the couch, that he would lay on the floor. How about on me I thought. “I think there is enough room for the both of us”. His eyes widened. Finally off guard superman? He smiled.
I lay next to him. He didn’t make any moves, leaving his arms by his side and facing toward the couch. Ugh. You can stop being a gentlemen now, I thought. Put your arms around me already. A few long, awkward minutes passed. Finally,he turned towards me. “Miss, I know we just met, but time is just a measurement and this is terribly uncomfortable. Do you mind cuddling,for comforts sake?” Duh. “Yeah that would be fine”he put his arm under my head, curled between his chest and bicep. His body was so hard, a job requiring I assume. Nice. I breathed in deeply. His smell was different, no cologne or axe like most guys seemed to bathe in. It was more of an earthy sweaty smell. I imagined this was how a man ought to smell. So intoxicating. I wondered if he could feel my heart racing. He ran his hand through my hair. Butterflies!? I was a teenager all over again. I looked up at him. His eyes were a dark green flecked with gold. Pretty. “I’m not complaining, but why’d you brush your teeth earlier”? He glanced down, a cocky smile on his face. “Thought I might kiss a girl later”. So sure of himself, it was infuriating and attractive all at once. Fine, fair game. “Then what are you waiting-” My eyes closed as his lips met mine. His lips were soft. I felt the room spinning all around me,the light headedness overcame me. His arms pulled me in tighter, crushing me to him. I felt his hand cup my cheek, the tingling sensation was intense. I was losing myself and I didn’t care. “Damn girl, damn girl, damn girl, damn girl damn”. Mfer!The ringtone on my phone going off. This was the first time in my life I wasn’t happy about Justin Timberlake. I scrambled off the coach, rummaging through my purse. I checked the caller ID. Mom! Of all times to check on me, now!?
I answered. “Hey mom can I call you back”? I looked over at him. He grinned. Great timing mom. “I love you too, I’ll call you in the morning”. I hung up. Just as I was about to lay back down, my friends voice interrupted with ” hey what time is it? Oh my God it’s so late, sorry I passed out. We better get going.” Nooooooooooo! This can’t be happening, after all I had gone through. I wasn’t ready to say goodnight. What if I didn’t see him again? What happens in Vegas really stays in Vegas?! He sat up now. A look of annoyance crossed his face. He looked over at the bed, his friend still passed out.I wanted to tell her to go ahead without me, but she was still tipsy, I couldn’t do that to her. After a few awkward minutes watching her gather her things, I stood up, he walked us to the door. Out in the hall now, I smiled halfheartedly and waved my hand. Disappointment etched all over his features. “So I’ll see you around” I said. Turning away I felt a firm grasp on my arm and he twirled me back into him. He stood a head taller than me. He looked down. ” Don’t get short with me miss”. Ha. ” I’d like to call you tomorrow, or is your phone just for your mom to check in on you”. That same cocky smile splayed across his face. I gave him my number. Walking, Floating, one hand carrying my heels, my feet would be gross, but I didn’t care.I thought of a cheesy pick up line I had heard a long time ago. I wanted to call my mom back now. She always told me to call home when I fell in love.