I talk. I talk and talk and I say the right thing to avoid a fight. It's not cowardice. Not by any stretch. In the back of my mind I am actually scared of hurting people. Okay, so, I'm not massively physically imposing, but I think I could hold my own long enough to leave an actual physical impression on the guy I'm hypothetically fighting against. And there are all these horror stories about some guy punching another guy once and that guy falling down, cracking his head and dying.
How would I even begin to go about dealing with that?
So as I said I talk. I've talked my way out of hundreds of fights. And it's not that I get into these situations myself. On the contrary. People and I get on very well usually. But sometimes some of my friends display their less than admirable qualities and regress to their baser natures of the neanderthal and have to fight someone to present their alpha male status to the world.
This always confused me. I have found that on the burger of my life, I wasn't given any Machismo. And thats okay. It makes me gassy anyway.
There are few times I get riled up enough that I want to hit someone and they only occur when a) someone starts talking crap or is disrespectful about a friend of mine or a family member or b) whenever one of my friends is in a fight. I always miss it when they get into fights. It will have been a night I haven't gone out with them or something like that but I get angry knowing that someone took a swing at them.
There was a time recently, I was outside a club and a friend of mine got started on by some guy. I stepped in between them and told the guy to back down. This guy was having none of it, nostrils flaring, swear words flying, insightful questions thrown about enquiring about the nature of my participation and whether or not I suffered from the Freudian disorder known as an Oedipus Complex (look it up, you'll get the joke).
His friends on the other hand were perfectly reasonable and told me he was drunk and whatever. I was perfectly polite to them because they were so to me. I hadn't moved from in front of this angry fellow as I told his friends I completely understood and that I had friends who were exactly the same.
I tend to dwell on potentially violent events like this and wonder what I would do. I wouldn't hit him first. I just don't have that in me. I suppose I feel I need so kind of tangible, personal justification to hit a guy. I wouldn't fight fair either. I would hurt him in any possible way until he fell down, but I absolutely draw the line at kicking a guy when he's down. If he went down I would give him the option of staying down. If he got back up and kept going, I would keep going, and so on.
There's really no such thing as fighting fair. There are winners and losers in a fight. There are also no good guys in these random ass fight. It's simply two people who can't keep themselves in check and on some level that seems to offend me.
On the subject of fighting, at the beginning of the year I went to the introductory class for boxing because it's supposed to be really good for fitness and as well as that it would teach me the basics about fighting.
As it turns out fighting is really tiring. Like, I mean, Who would have ever known it could be so draining. It was awful. But my testosterone loved it. Eventually I actually came to enjoy myself (the instructor said I was really good, just saying) until the instructor called us all round and said
How would I even begin to go about dealing with that?
So as I said I talk. I've talked my way out of hundreds of fights. And it's not that I get into these situations myself. On the contrary. People and I get on very well usually. But sometimes some of my friends display their less than admirable qualities and regress to their baser natures of the neanderthal and have to fight someone to present their alpha male status to the world.
This always confused me. I have found that on the burger of my life, I wasn't given any Machismo. And thats okay. It makes me gassy anyway.
There are few times I get riled up enough that I want to hit someone and they only occur when a) someone starts talking crap or is disrespectful about a friend of mine or a family member or b) whenever one of my friends is in a fight. I always miss it when they get into fights. It will have been a night I haven't gone out with them or something like that but I get angry knowing that someone took a swing at them.
There was a time recently, I was outside a club and a friend of mine got started on by some guy. I stepped in between them and told the guy to back down. This guy was having none of it, nostrils flaring, swear words flying, insightful questions thrown about enquiring about the nature of my participation and whether or not I suffered from the Freudian disorder known as an Oedipus Complex (look it up, you'll get the joke).
His friends on the other hand were perfectly reasonable and told me he was drunk and whatever. I was perfectly polite to them because they were so to me. I hadn't moved from in front of this angry fellow as I told his friends I completely understood and that I had friends who were exactly the same.
I tend to dwell on potentially violent events like this and wonder what I would do. I wouldn't hit him first. I just don't have that in me. I suppose I feel I need so kind of tangible, personal justification to hit a guy. I wouldn't fight fair either. I would hurt him in any possible way until he fell down, but I absolutely draw the line at kicking a guy when he's down. If he went down I would give him the option of staying down. If he got back up and kept going, I would keep going, and so on.
There's really no such thing as fighting fair. There are winners and losers in a fight. There are also no good guys in these random ass fight. It's simply two people who can't keep themselves in check and on some level that seems to offend me.
On the subject of fighting, at the beginning of the year I went to the introductory class for boxing because it's supposed to be really good for fitness and as well as that it would teach me the basics about fighting.
As it turns out fighting is really tiring. Like, I mean, Who would have ever known it could be so draining. It was awful. But my testosterone loved it. Eventually I actually came to enjoy myself (the instructor said I was really good, just saying) until the instructor called us all round and said
For all the women around here, and some of the guys, a broken nose is almost a given in boxingAnd I haven't went back since.
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