Sometimes we go through things that teach us lessons and remind us of who our friends are. If you haven’t already read the male friend I suggest you have a quick squizz. Mine came 2 years ago after the Whitney Houston concert. Already low I listened to my ipod humming badly to Bobby Mcferrin’s ‘Common Threads’ as one often does. ‘Common threads’ is not a happy song. But somehow I love it still and as I walked along I enjoyed the comforting sound of my heels on the pavement. I am not light footed, believe.
I was making the short walk from the Kings Road to my place when I felt a sharp pain on my butt and my headphones were jerked from my ears? You have to kick me pretty hard on the butt for me to feel it as testified by the bruise that came up only 3 days later. I turned around and there were two young women standing there looking at me strangely. I noticed that one of them had wet red hair and assumed that she was bleeding. OMG had she been attacked? The poor thing!
Yes my precious I seriously hadn’t realised that I was being mugged and instead asked if THEY were ok. Turns out the blood was….cheap hair dye. It was a bad fashion mistake fuelled by copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. They were both high as a kite and they wanted my hard earned cash for more? Er, I didn’t think so.
She made a grab for my bag and my instincts kicked in. Forget the judo lessons, I hit her around the head with the bag which thankfully had half my world belongings in it and gathered useful evidence as said bag was covered in the hair dye. She tried to grab the ipod again and I held on for dear life. Bless I may have just given it to her but a) she didn’t realise that it was only a shuffle b) I’m not sure that she would have appreciated the intricate sound of Bobby McFerrin.
Then the other one smashed a bottle and I thought, er, why am I standing here fighting 2 women? And in heels I’d worn all day!! My ancestors would kill me for stupidity. Besides I’m not one of those girls that could carry off a facial scar prettily. This was one of those classic grab your purse and run situations. So I ran looking like a drag queen 100m sprinter, reached home and called the po po (police). And now for a rare shout out to the K&C police. They were round in 15 minutes, had caught the girls 15 minutes later and had a statement from me in under an hour. The 7 police cars and ambulance were a tad overkill but…I felt special. They treated this like a drill. You passed with flying colours K&C police. You can tell victim support to take me off the list now though.
Anyway clearly shaken I called my male friend who had been at the concert with me. I didn’t call Mama Black as she would have thrown dramatics before threatening to plot vengeance on all burgundy dyed girls in the hood for touching her baby. But his initial cursory response was to ask if I was ok then said “I know this is wrong but, is Lottie ok?”
Who is Lottie you ask? Yes that’s what I was thinking. This was the other friend at the concert who he had a massive crush on. He had met her all of once up til that day. Lottie is the girl that has some sort of special milk shake juju that brings all the boys to the yard. Her like is better than mine. Apparently she hadn’t texted him to say she had arrived home safely and given him the opportunity he so craved to initiate some well thought out banter. My moment of being vulnerable and needy was ruined by his cock getting in the way? To be clear Lottie and I lived in opposite directions so how I would know how she was doing is beyond my comprehension. And why ask if you know it is wrong?
Eventually my dramatic reaction to this question (apparently I’m more like my Mum than I think) provoked two responses. Over the coming weeks it emerged that he thought I was too incredibly sensitive and that I fancied him. Why or why do men always think any display of emotion mean you want to f**k them?
And so this is what I remember most about the mugging. Not the strung out druggie girls but the ‘friend’ who couldn’t even be bothered to show sufficient concern. Instead he waited at home for a text that never came. Things have never been the same since. But you know what? Who needs friends who aren’t there in your time of need. As for me I’m ok really but I have never been able to listen to ‘Common Threads’ without thinking….heels aren’t great shoes to escape in. I’m putting flat shoes in my bag as I write this.
Happy Saturday y’all
© Chelsea Black