We knew the day was coming, but knowing in advance didn’t make its arrival any easier.

The New Girls, Blonde and Brunette, officially joined Master Cycle. That meant Instructor split Her Royal Highness and me up to partner with the lower belts.

That I should be considered a “higher belt” is ironic, but here we are.

I was with Brunette for what was her first MC class, and it went fine, from my perspective. The challenges are old hat to me, but later I got a text from her saying she wanted to cry after class.

And so I talked her down, much like HRH had done for me, telling her it would all be okay, eventually.

Being the elegant lady that I am, I described it thus: “I know it’s rough going from top dog in Combatives to little puppy not yet potty trained in Master Cycle” and explained it’s tough for all of us, but everyone is so kind and helpful.

I just hope the New Girls will tolerate my uncontrollable sound effects, occasional humming, and the (mostly) accidental inappropriate comments that escape my lips. Maybe they’ll even grow to love them the way HRH has.

At the end of this class, I grabbed HRH, which was dangerous. Thankfully, she realized I was hugging her and didn’t automatically throw me to the ground. “And so our separation is complete,” I said while she rocked me side to side until my neck cracked thanks to my old-lady bones.

I suppose we’ll still have some days where it’s just us, like The New Girl besties will have each other back on certain days, but until then, parting has been such sweet sorrow.

Speaking of parting, when I left class, someone called, “Bye, Ilsa!” It was… you ready? The Combatives Belt Kid. Remember him? I need to update his name to the Blue Belt Kid now, however, since he turned 16 in December and became eligible for blue.

I was so bummed to have missed that long-awaited moment. I hadn’t yet returned for my third Jiu-Jitsu Journey in January. (Returning in June or July would also have been acceptable for alliterative purposes.)

When I did return, he said something with a bright smile, but I couldn’t hear him. I consider that a minor tragedy. I would’ve liked to have recorded that here. I want to adopt that kid.

What really happened

I often spend a minute or two chatting with the desk lady before class, usually about whatever nonfiction we’re reading because we’re both nerds. (In case you’re wondering, I’m on Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl.)

Then she said, “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

Thankfully, I had grabbed my attendance card already, so I used it to cover my massive smile as I relayed this story, inspired by Beth.

“I moonlight as a bouncer at [name of local dive bar]. (Amazingly, she didn’t flinch at this. I will never play poker with her.) After midnight, things get rough there. I had just finished tossing one guy out when I turned around and another jabbed me with a broken bottle. I still wrapped his arm behind his back and kicked him out, but my favorite shirt was ruined.”

Still nary an eye twitch from this woman before I told her I came up with the story on the drive over. “I could see it happening,” she said, ever the kind one. I think next time I’ll just say bar brawl and resist the embellishment because I can not elaborate with a straight face.

In response to comments on my last post…

I kid about blocking, of course. In fact, I have figured out my possible next blog meetup and decided I should give Hubby a heads up on this one…

So does this stranger who left a very nice Amazon review of Wish I Was Here…

And if anyone reading this would like a complimentary pdf of the book in order to mention it on their own blog, please let me know.

P.S. Just came back from class in which there were a whopping six females! New Girls weren’t among them, so the rest were all white belts. Before class started, HRH and I were on one side of the wall; the others were clustered at the other end. As Instructor started pairing people up, HRH scooted to the corner behind him, out of view, and I, staying low, followed. Thus, we narrowly escaped separation. 😛

“There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; the rest are merely games” has been frequently and erroneously attributed to Ernest Hemingway.

New Q: On East 109th Street between Second and Third Avenues is the honorary Hall of Fame street for this New York City game.