You're a jerk... I know

"Is this a kickboxing class or martial arts?" I asked with a puzzle expression on my face.

The handsome blond quickly replied," kickboxing is a martial art."

His snappy remark made my face match the color of my bubblegum pink nail polish. I tried not to let the green-eyed monster, anger, demolish the excitement that had built up all day long. Right from the start the blond, also known as the instructor, let me know he was not happy with my clueless question. I had waited so long to take the challenging class that I was not letting anyone get in my way.

The class began with two minutes of "invisible" jump roping, 25 jumping jacks, and 15 squat and planks. These simple tasks were combined to create a tiresome warm up. The class was packed and full of energy. The workout picked up its pace and increased its vigor.

I could feel sweat trickling down my forehead and off my lashes. My muscles began to fatigue, and i was breathing heavily. All the kicks and punches opened up a new world to me. I was motivated with the loud music. With Eminem playing in the background, I felt a rush and thrill to just take all my frustrations and worries out on the punching bags.

All of a sudden, the intructor let out a giggle as he watched me attempt the last, difficult kick. I glared at him in disbelief. After prolonged agony, I could not believe he still expected a perfect kick.

I said to the instructor, " You're a jerk!"

He replied," Will I see you next class?"

I said, "Don't be late, I have a meeting to attend in the afternoon."

With a smirk on my face, I gathered my belongings and left. I had a feeling that this was the start to a love-hate friendship.