After I wrote about my husband and I getting married after only a year of knowing each other, a lot of you asked for more personal posts about us and our life together. So today, being my husband’s 29th birthday, I thought I’d share the tale of the time he fought off a drug lord, and the scar he has to show for it.
When D and I first started dating, I was in matric, writing exams. Each time I had a long gap between exams, we’d go away to explore a neighboring town. Our first trip was to what has now become my favorite town of all, Port Alfred.
During this trip, D and I started discussing all his scars and where they came from – he has had really bad car accidents over the years, been knocked over, and with his love for hockey and BMXing, he packs a few gruesome stories to match his scars. The next day, he was getting dressed, when I noticed a scar that we hadn’t spoken about. It is massive and runs just below his stomach – similar to a C-section scar but far deeper and bigger. So, of course, I asked him about it.
D went on to tell me that when he was about 19 or 20, he was at the beach with a bunch of friends to watch the sunrise. They were all enjoying each other’s company when he heard screaming coming from behind them. He started looking for where the screams were coming from when he noticed two men pulling on a girl, who looked barely coherent. Being the hero of this story, he ran up to the men who he described as drug lords and started pulling them off the girl. There was a scuffle, but eventually, he managed to get the girl free, and the drug lords ran off when they saw D’s group of friends approaching to help him. The adrenaline started wearing off when he noticed a sharp pain below his stomach, and when he looked down, he realized that he had been stabbed quite badly.
The good news is… He survived.
So, a month or 2 later, we were at a bar enjoying some drinks with my mom and a group of friends. As usual, people started asking about D’s tattoos, when I went on to poke fun at the one on his butt (which I’ll tell you about soon). This conversation leads to a story or his scars and I remembered the one about D fighting off some drug lords. So here I stand, telling a group of about 8-10 people (including my mom), about D’s heroism and how he saved a girl. As you can imagine, by the time I was done telling the story, everyone was quite impressed – I mean, wouldn’t you be, if your boyfriend was a badass saving girls from dodgy men?
So, here’s the kicker, D waited for me to finish the story, sipped on his drink and had a funny smile, before looking at me dead in the eye, in front of everyone, and saying in the calmest voice, “Babe, that didn’t happen, the scar is from my appendix exploding and it being removed.”