Most date nights end in the trade of sexual favours, and or a drunken snog. But for me, more often than not, they end in calamity. In fact, most of my nights for that matter.
Before I begin to tell the tale of how I came to loathe ice-skating, I should first tell you that I convinced my other half that we needed to be more spontaneous, because much like that of The Big Bang Theory, what can go wrong with ‘Anything Can Happen Wednesday’*? Oh the irony. With that in mind, he planned an impromptu skate date.
So, on this crisp and Christmassy evening, my boyfriend and I thought it’d be a grand idea to go ice-skating, drink mulled wine (obvs) and then eat shortly after. Unfortunately, our plans quickly went left and neither of the latter occurred. Now, it was probably karma because to be fair, I had been simultaneously laughing and filming my partner as he proceeded to clutch the rails, whilst making his way around the rink. And true, I could also be blamed for being slightly too confident in my stride, but this sort of thing would only happen to the likes of me. I mean it goes without saying, but attempting to teach a third party a skill, without knowing said skill themselves… pretty stupid. Yes, if you hadn’t already guessed, I fell pretty hard on the ice and ended up with a pretty severe, albeit hilarious, injury.
How I Fell: SHE FELL OOOOOVAH!
In a failed attempt to ‘show my boyfriend how to skate’ I stupidly skated a little too far, so far in fact that the prospect of grabbing onto a side bar just wasn’t going to happen. Instead, I swerved in an attempt to avoid a man (who I wholeheartedly blame) at a standstill. I should just clarify by saying that my partner Googled ‘tips for ice-skating’ moments before hitting the rink and the link suggested that you not use your hands to break your fall, so with that in mind…. In the blink of an eye I hit the ground chin first, with only one arm stretched far out for protection. It was sort of like a movie, and everything went in slow motion. I immediately heard the words ‘clench your fist, or you’ll lose your fingers’ and so I made a fist to avoid further injury and just sort of… laid there.
I mean sure, my face was in the worst pain of my life (excluding ten years’ worth of periods) and true, I split open my chin but I felt nothing but embarrassment. Everyone sort of skated over to see the idiot who fell flat on her face and there I was, sprawled out, skates in the air and blood all over her favourite scarf. So naturally, I joked and bantered my way through the ordeal. “Hahaha guys, I’m fine hahaha” *softly cries as I hobble away*.
Being sent to A&E: Shits Gettin’ Srius
It’s kind of terrifying when people are oohing and ahhing at a body part you can only see via a mirror! I mean, guys, what happened?! Did I lose a tooth?! Oh god, is there a dent in my face? I may have lied earlier, because I didn’t actually feel the pain until I sat down in the medics office and the doctor said “Oooh it’s quite deep, we’re going to have to send you to A&E”. Aaaaaaand cue the panic, throughout it all I laughed (and cried a little because, shock) because as aforementioned, this sort of thing would only happen to me and my unluck. I had, had such a good day, week even! Something terrible was bound to happen, why not a few stitches to the face.
I pen this piece, with glue in my chin and plasters to hold it in place (and an incredible throbbing jaw… and the inability to eat solid foods) with a lesson learnt. Much like riding a bike, ice-skating has just entered the list of things I will probably never do again.
Long and short, I no longer ice-skate.