PTS-Daaaaaa*n Girl!
(I served three and a half tours overseas before being medically discharged after a firefight that left me with a limp and a big helping of PTSD. While I’m fine most of the time, I now have a crippling fear of the dark, as I was asleep when our camp was invaded. As a result, I’m pretty jumpy about sudden sounds in the night, and I sleep with my lamp on. My girlfriend is used to this, and gets used to leaving the hallway light on for me, as well. One night, we’re asleep when we both jerk awake to complete darkness after a huge noise. My girlfriend calls her parents who live next door and, sure enough, a transformer on our street blew up and there’s a blackout. My father-in-law has a generator in his shed and offers for us to sleep in there for the night so we would have lights, but I’m already twitchy, so my girlfriend lights some candles and we elect to stay home. I keep hearing noises coming from our back door, but I don’t say anything because I’m used to my PTSD convincing me the worst is happening. After about two hours, this happens.)
Girlfriend: *makes a weird, almost frightened face*
Me: “What’s wrong, babe?”
Girlfriend: “I can hear a weird noise coming from out there. I didn’t want to freak you out by saying anything.”
Me: “I can hear it, too.”
(Before I can even move, my five-foot-three girlfriend grabs the softball bat from under my side of the bed and bolts for the back door. I hear her throw it open as I’m still scrambling out of bed and chasing her as fast as I can with my bum leg.)
Girlfriend: *still out of sight* “F*** OFF RIGHT NOW IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE ON TWO LEGS!”
(As if by magic, the power comes back on right then. A dumbfounded-looking would-be criminal is staring at my tiny girlfriend holding the bat, with a crowbar in his hand that he was obviously using to try our back door. My girlfriend doesn’t hesitate any longer, and swings the bat at him as hard as she can. It cracks him on the hand and he howls, right as her dad and brother vault over the side fence responding to the yelling. Her teenage brother tackles the guy straight off our deck and there’s a huge scuffle. They manage to pin him down. When the cops show up, one of them is an old buddy of mine who listens to our story and bursts out laughing.)
Cop: “So, the jittery war vet trained in hand-to-hand combat didn’t even get a punch in?”
Me: “I didn’t get a chance! They had it all done before I could get to them.”
(The cop looks at my tiny girlfriend, her scrawny brother, and her elderly father all looking murderously at the burglar, who is now in handcuffs and crying that the cuffs are hurting his clearly broken wrist.)
Cop: “Who needs you, honestly? They had it all stitched up.”
(I’m gonna buy that girl a ring.)
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