Digital torture By Mitch Gregory From her perspective, he brought this upon himself I've had all the time in the world lately to think about what happened. Jenna was never quite my girlfriend, but it's an understatement to say I've had a crush on her since we were teenagers. For a period of time when we were younger, she was actually really into me. None of my friends could believe it. She's out of your league, Matt, they would tell me. And they were right. But we connected and I'll never forget the day she told me I was the perfect guy for her. Of course, when you're 19, you have a tendency to say things like that. Fast forward a few months and she was onto someone else before our courtship got out of first gear. But I never stopped wanting her. Dating her admittedly became somewhat of an obsession for me. I wanted to show my friends and everyone who doubted I could pull it off that they were wrong. Even if it was one date, I reasoned, I would be able to check that achievement off my list. Whenever I tried approaching her about it, she shut me down. She told me what we had was years ago and she had long moved on. Over the years, we were sometimes friends and sometimes strangers. We went through stretches where she was involved with someone and didn't feel it was appropriate to speak with me. More recently, we were talking again and it seemed like I would have my chance. Then I found out she had a new boyfriend, and my heart was broken all over again. This new boyfriend of hers happened to belong to same the wrestling gym as me. For me, it was only about exercise. I didn't know him personally, but I knew he was serious about his wrestling and participated in the shows promoted by the gym. I had also heard rumors their relationship was toxic and they got into a fight after she had said nice things about me. One day, I was at the gym looking at the roster of wrestlers available for the next show. To my surprise, I saw Jenna's name. I asked what her name was doing on the list, and I was told she had to sign up so she could accompany her man to the ring for his match last month. I kept staring at her name, and I just couldn't resist the urge. On the sheet where wrestlers made their challenges, there was a space for the proposed stipulation. I signed up to be a wrestler, challenged Jenna and wrote "If Matt wins, he gets to take Jenna to dinner." Honestly, I don't really know what I was thinking when I did that. I did it half jokingly, and a part of me probably figured it would cause more trouble between them. Never in a million years did I think she would accept the challenge. You can imagine my great surprise when I received the alert that Jenna was accepting. I was told to meet her at her job so that we could sign the contract. By now, I didn't know what I had gotten myself into, but being the eternal optimist I saw it as a real opportunity to get that date with her. Even though I knew very little about wrestling, how bad could it be? We'd known each other forever. I was sure we'd go out there, have some fun in the ring and see who could get the first pin. I arrived to Jenna's office and she greeted me with an enthusiastic hi and a warm smile. She asked me to wait while she retrieved a manila envelope from a drawer. After carefully removing the contract from the envelope, she rolled up her sleeves, picked up a pen and signed her name on the last page. As she handed me the pen she said, "There's just one thing. My boyfriend wants you to..." She hesitated to finish her sentence. "Wants me to what?" I asked. "He just thinks you should put up some money for this. You know, to make it fair." I did not see that as a problem, as the dinner with her was obviously something I wanted. It was only right for me to put something on the line. "Sure," I responded. "How much?" "Five thousand dollars," she answered in a tone that was somewhere between a statement and a question, as though she was not sure what kind of reaction I would have to such an amount. "Not a problem," I responded with a nervous chuckle. As I flipped through the contract, I saw the $5,000 stipulation was already pre-printed. It further clarified that I would be required to give the money to the promoter before the match. It would be held in abeyance, and in the event Jenna won the match, it would be transferred to Jenna and her boyfriend's joint bank account. It hurt my feelings to see they had a joint bank account, and the truth was that was much more money than I could afford losing. I knew Jenna had pegged me as a successful guy, but I had fallen on difficult times and losing that kind of money would be disastrous for me. But I didn't want her to know any of that. I kept my game face on and signed the contract. "Well, I need to get back to work," she told me with a polite smile. I went in for a hug. "We shouldn't," she rejected my advance as she disappeared around a corner. "Good luck," I could hear her telling me as I turned to leave the office. She sounded sincere, which managed to calm my nerves just a little. Before I knew it, it was the night of the match. We were only the second contest on the card, a battle of new wrestlers with intriguing stakes. She came to the ring alone, wearing black tights, athletic shoes and a gray tank top. I noticed she had what appeared to be wrist bands on, a small detail that made me question if she was actually getting into wrestling. Dressed in my gym clothes, I made sure to high five some fans on my way to the ring. It was my way of telling myself to relax and try to enjoy the moment. This was supposed to be a fun exhibition, and I was confident I would be able to pin her and win. I was, after all, a man twice her size. When the bell sounded, she walked over and locked up with me. I immediately realized something I already knew, that I had more upper body strength than she did. As I gained leverage over her, she started kicking at my legs. I backed up to avoid being struck, and she smiled at me and shook her head. Jenna was a dancer. Her best bet to beat me in a wrestling match would be to use those legs somehow. She approached and feigned locking up again. But this time, she stuck her hand in my face and viciously clawed at my eyes. That momentarily blinded me as I could feel my eyes filling with water. "Watch his eyes!" the referee warned. "My bad," she answered in her sorry-not-sorry voice. I didn't expect this. It was all happening so fast. The next thing I knew I was holding my hands to my face and before I could feel anything else, I heard two loud noises. The first was the the sound of Jenna kicking me so hard in the left shin it echoed throughout the building, and the second was the crowd's collective "Ohhhhh!" My leg was suddenly in excrutiating pain. She hit the ropes and ran towards me at full speed. Before she reached me, she jumped into the air and landed a hooking clothesline, the crook of her right arm connecting with my throat. Jenna landed safely beside me as I was driven to the mat back first. That took the wind out of me, and I feared she could now pin me. But she didn't. She got back up and started stomping on my injured leg over and over again. She took my shoe in her hand, picked my leg up and repeatedly drove her knee into it. She held it in an awkward position and dropped her elbow onto it. After each attack, she looked into my face as a way to measure how much damage she was inflicting. As shocked as I was hurt, I could not speak. I was trying to wave my arms to indicate I had enough and she could pin me, a message that either didn't register or was ignored. A male voice from somewhere in the building yelled "Do it now! Do it now, babe!" Jenna grabbed my leg and spun herself around so that it was wrapped painfully by hers. She took my other leg and bent it at the knee, placing it over the one she had been brutalizing. I knew the torture I was moments away from experiencing. She paused, seemingly savoring the moment, and flashed me a grin as she sat down into the devastating hold. I was screaming in pain, flailing my arms all over the place in a complete panic as the woman I always wanted was destroying me. I looked at the muscles in her legs flexing through her tights as they were being used to control and obliterate mine. I looked her in the face. She looked calm, her arms casually at her sides to keep her shoulders off the mat as she lay back. "Jenna, please," I finally managed to plead. "Please let me go," I begged her through tears. She did not have a response other than to keep shaking her head no and smiling. There was no escape for me. I was not going to be getting a dinner with her, and on top of that I was going to losing my money. But none of that mattered at this point in time. My biggest concern was being able to walk again. I closed my eyes, trying to check out of reality, and tapped the mat as many times as I could until I could hear the bell ring and feel Jenna release the hold. She was announced as the winner and did a little bow over me, a celebratory move she probably performed after her dance recitals. The cheers for her were deafening and she had instantly become a wrestling star. Once she left, it took several trainers to assist me back to the locker room. Two days later, I was in my bed in unbelievable pain when I saw her post a photo to her social media accounts. It was a picture of her bare legs, taken while she was sitting poolside after her win. The caption read: "They never let me down <3." One of the commenters wrote "Pretty but deadly legs! The very ones that snapped that poor dude's in half!?" She replied to the comment, writing "Lol! He tapped out before it came to that." The original commenter wrote "Smart/lucky dude," and she clicked the like button. I couldn't take it anymore. Perhaps partly inspired by the pills I was forced to take, and the money I didn't have to pay for them, I fired off an email to her describing the pain I was in and how that wasn't the kind of match I'd expected from her. As long as we knew each other, we should have had a more friendly contest, and the image of her smiling as she was decimating my leg was one that would forever haunt me. Word for word, this was her email response to me. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Jenna To: Matt Subject: Re: Leg lock Dear Matt, Yes, I know the figure 4 is a very painful hold. My boyfriend and I discussed the match and I suggested going for a choke. He insisted on the figure 4. He just couldn't believe your audacity in challenging me like that and he wanted me to finish you off that way. For what it's worth, I prayed you would tap out before you were injured badly and I think you did that. Your leg should be fine. Try to stay off it a while if you can. As for the smile, I just had a lot riding on that match and I was happy things were going my way. I didn't mean to communicate that I was enjoying hurting you, and for that I will apologize. Well, I have to go now. I hope one day we can put this all behind us. Sincerely, Jenna ---------------------------------------------------------------------- I had no answers to that. Unable to do much of anything else, I continued to check out social media over the next several days. The next thing that set me off was a photo of Jenna with her boyfriend before they were heading out for a night on the town. They were dressed in formal attire, her in a long dress, and she was posing for the picture with her hands on his chest. I could only imagine they were going out dancing somewhere on my dime and I felt the need to remind her who was stuck at home and couldn't walk. This time, I sent her a text message. Me: Still can't put any pressure on the left leg. Her: :( Sensing compassion, I pressed my luck. I felt betrayed by someone I thought cared about me, and I wanted better responses. I wanted her to tell me it was wrong to do what she did to me, her boyfriend was a creep for asking her to do it, and how about that dinner. Instead, this happened. Me: It really, really should not have gone down that way. Her: I don't want to talk about this anymore. Your leg is not my problem. We were having a match. I had an opening and I took it. Me: Wow. One last question. If I didn't tap, would you really have broken it? Her: Yes. Without hesitation. Yes. She would have broken my leg if she had to. She almost did. What she did break was my bank, and my ego would surely never recover. All of this, for wanting to date Jenna.