The Rabbit Punch

“A rabbit punch is punch to the back of the head or neck. It is illegal in boxing since it can cause cervical vertebrae damage and subsequent spinal cord injury resulting in paralysis or death. Rabbit punch got its name from a technique hunters use to kill rabbits with a quick, sharp blow to the back of their heads with a blunt object”

Nate and I had only been dating a couple weeks before I could tell he wanted to say he loved me.  He almost let it slip out a couple of times.  Once, while watching TV, he said he “lo-really liked hanging out with” me.

He danced around it for almost a year.

And that was fine with me. 

This was my first serious relationship.  I don’t like commitment and feelings make me uncomfortable.  I didn’t know if I loved him back, and I didn’t want to say it if I didn’t mean it.  Even after I decided it was okay to say, I let him do it first.  He warned me via text that he was gearing up to say it. 

But he waited until I came home to Pennsylvania for a weekend, so he could tell me to my face. 

I told him I loved him, too.  And that should have been the end of it.  After the initial exchange, everything is supposed to be fine and dandy and you’re supposed to go skipping off through a meadow, hand-in-hand. 

But we didn’t keep saying it.  One of us let it drop every once in a while, but we used the L-word sparingly. 

Then, Christmas came, the relationship got hard, and we quit saying it all together. 

And one night, we had a particularly vicious, but by then all-too-familiar, break-up fight.  Just like always, things had started off innocently enough.  We spent the evening at a bar with our friends, without so much as a negative word toward each other.  Then, on the way home, just like always, things got ugly, fast.  To this day, I can’t tell you how he did it.  One minute we were laughing and the next, he was angry. 

But something had changed. 

I don’t know if it was him or me, but things were worse, somehow.  I couldn’t breathe.  I needed out.  I turned down my street, instead of following him up his and yelled back not to follow me. 

He chased me down and apologized, but it took him a long time to get me calm again.  I was shaking. 

Then, he talked.  In case you couldn’t tell, Nate isn’t very good with feelings either.  He opened up about his father and his frustration with life.  He told me things I know he would never tell anyone else. 

When he was done, we went to bed. 

I kissed him goodnight, with the hope that we understood each other a little bit better. 

He asked me if I loved him.

I said “yes.”

He asked me if I was sure. 

I hesitated, but I said “yes.”

“I’m not,” he said. 

Looking back, I should have been angry. 

But I didn’t blame him.

“Neither am I,” I said.

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