Okay so. In the interest of their privacy I’ll be referring to them by the initials of their first names, so R and B respectively.
Now, I’m one of those people who has always somehow managed to remain pretty good friends with most of his exes, so after dating for close to two years, R and I break up, mutually, and remain close. I’m also pretty good at picking them, so when I get together with B a few months later, I’m pleased that neither of them are weird about me still being close friends with R.
Skip to like 7 months later. Me and B move in together, into a tiny, crappy house in probably the most toxic residential area in Europe. We had a view of a used car place from our bedroom window and a view of another used car place from the back bedroom window. There was also the soft, comforting glow of a chemical plant nearby, which I’m pretty sure gave the soil the same PH level as vinegar, but whatever. Rent was cheap, and they let us have our kitten, Renly.
So we throw this housewarming party. A bunch of friends are there, R included, and everyone is drinking and having a good time.
Now, some background on B; I dated him, which means obviously he had some weird interests. So he’s a history nerd, and part of being a history nerd means he has few really cool 19th century sabres and things. They’re mostly blunt, except for one, which he keeps sharp in case anyone ever breaks in. We were in a rough area, so it was a pretty good idea.
Unfortunately though, they’re all kept together.
So after a few more drinks R and B get talking, and they start to discuss the sabres - only to discover that they both have a background in fencing. They think this is fantastic.
That’s when they decide to duel. They both grab a sabre, very much convinced they’re blunt, and take to the garden for an impromptu fencing match.
So I’m standing there, the most sober person in the house, watching this happen and thinking maybe it isn’t a great idea. They give it a good go, they’re both pretty good, and everyone is cheering them on. It seems harmless enough, they’re joking about duelling over me.
Suddenly though, R stops abruptly, and says, with deadly calm; ‘Oh, I think you got me there.’
Before B can ask if he’s okay R has lifted up one arm and a huge gush of blood comes pouring out. Like, everywhere. This is like that scene from The Shining. Blood all over him, all over the ground, it’s a mess. B looks like he’s about to pass out, he’s already imagining how badly he’ll do in prison, and everyone else is too stunned to do anything. Turns out B didn’t pick up a blunt sabre afterall.
Then R faints. We get him into a chair and I’m fortunately quick thinking - I get a tea towel and wrap it around his arm to stop the blood as best as I can. I then call for an ambulance.
Obviously they have to send the police as well because ‘someone got stabbed with a sword’ doesn’t fly too well. So the ambulance crew arrives, and a police car arrives. When asked what happened I said ‘They were duelling and he got caught by accident’ the police’s response was a long pause, and then to just laugh and say ‘wear armour next time!’ (Can you tell we have white privilege???)
So I’m still in a state of shock whilst R is getting wheeled out on a stretcher. Apparently another police car overheard what happened on the radio and was so fascinated that they showed up ‘just to watch’ because it was a slow night. This is a cop car full of really young rookies, it looks like fucking Mumford and Sons just turned up at our house in uniforms.
During all of this our kitten, Renly, gets out because the doors are all open with people coming and going.
So it’s 2:00AM, and this is the current situation:
- B is crying because he doesn’t want to go to jail for manslaughter and also he’s worried he killed his friend.
- There’s a bunch of police officers in our kitchen drinking tea and eating our biscuits.
- Officers Mumford and Sons are in the used car place outside our house trying to lure our 14 week old kitten out from under a car.
- R is nearly unconscious in the back of an ambulance.
- The neighbours, who had previously been dicks to us, are now terrifyingly quiet because they think B is a dangerous man who goes about stabbing people with swords.
So I get into the ambulance to go to the hospital with R, who is full on delirious at this point from blood-loss and morphine. I was planning to have a fancy dress ‘Game Of Thrones’ themed birthday party that year, and the last thing R says to me before passing out completely is ‘It’s a shame he didn’t get my hand or I could’ve come to your party as Jaime Lannister’.
Anyway he gets to the trauma ward and he’s okay. He lost quite a lot of blood and needed a transfusion. He now has a big scar there.
He came over once he got out of hospital with pizza and we all laughed about it. We’re still friends.
He and B both tell that story to everyone who’ll listen, and I get to boast that I’m the pretty twink who had two men nearly fight to the death over me.
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