Rather handy, in fact. Being 6’4" 300# and in fair shape, though, usually deters the challenging types, though I’ve done my share of defending my position up here to date.
The idea is to simply put a stop to it, now if that means taking out a knee or breaking the nose (hit down on the bridge of the nose if possible, not in) of the first joker, then great. Other times though, you’ve got to go for a quick jab right to the throat or a thumb and forefinger into the eyes. Or, you can make a big show about rolling up your sleeves, stretching out, generally distracting your opponent, then kicking him dead in the nuts while the show is happening upstairs.
When it comes to physical altercations, I am one tough bitch. I am short but incredibly strong, and would only fight in self-defense. With the bit of martial arts training I’ve had, I have developed a lack of fear of the hard-knocks–and the survivalist in me would generally look for the biggest, heaviest thing to slam against someone’s skull. If I felt my life was in danger, I would have no qualms about smashing someone’s face repeatedly against a hard wooden object.
You will not see me in bar-fights though – I don’t fight as a general rule. I admit I always beat up boys on the playground when I was a kid, and the one fight I did get into as a teenager resulted in her limping home crying–I swear to god I only kicked her just the one time, after she punched me in the face. She was 16 and I was 12, and it totally shocked her how not afraid I was.
That’s how the last fight I was in ended. I swung for his nose, he tilted his head up (no idea why) and got a full jab in the throat. That ended the fight instantly - me walking away, and him gasping for air.
I would be the middle aged woman curled up in a fetal position under the table in the corner. Which is why I tend not to go to bars of questionable character.
Jab at the eyes, claw at the throat, dive (well, fall - I’m tall enough) over the bar. I will have no compunction about using lethal force - after all, they’re using lethal force on me.
The sad reality is that I’m more likely to be completely oblivious to the oncoming danger and be felled by the first punch.
Also very useful. Spent about seven years studying kickboxing, mixed martial arts, BJJ/submission grappling, and self defense, and now teach beginners. Currently training 6-8 hours a week (not including conditioning) getting ready for an event in December. A large part of self defense is anticipating and avoiding those situations in the first place, though.
Ah, but that’s when you have the upper hand. Most guys, even drunk, belligerent guys, won’t hit a woman even if she’s kicking his ass. I know this from personal experience.* Usually they just try to push you off and get the hell away.
So, yeah, I’m damn useful in a fight. For one, I’m tall (for a girl) and built like a brick shithouse. That usually deters most women from starting shit with me. Then, like I said, I’ve kicked a few guys’ asses and suffered nary a scratch.
Like Litoris and others, I don’t start shit, and will avoid fighting whenever possible. But swing at me, or provoke me in some way**, and you’ll be damn sorry. Count me among the seeing-red, out for blood, berserker types when I am physically threatened.
I feel kind of bad that they don’t fight back, but whatever, I’ve never started a fight and the assholes all deserved it.
** Don’t jump a friend of mine 3 on 1, then after I break it up start lunging for my friend again, and when I pin you against the wall and tell you to leave it alone, don’t repeatedly call me sweetheart and baby when I ask you not to. 'Cause you call me that one too many times, and then you’ve got a crazy bitch pounding your head into the wall screaming “I’m not your baby!”
I’m probably one of the biggest guys on the SDMB (I think). I blot out the sun. I am built like a Sherman tank and I’m extraordinarily strong (but unfit). I also haven’t been in a fight since I was a child, and I probably wouldn’t know the first thing about it. I’ve had to break up fights on occasion, but people tend to respect my size, and I’ve just grabbed blokes and ushered them away without drama.
On the other hand, I’m a pussycat. I’m also very, very leery of punching somebody, because knowing my dumb luck, they’d end up dead.
I think if I could get in a few quick blows at the start, I’d clear the decks, and it would be over. However, my lack of fighting skill would mean poor defences, and in addition to my lack of fitness, if it went on very long at all, I’d probably go down. So for me, it’s make the first punch a good one if I want to walk away.
I think I’d do okay. I got to test this about a year ago when two belligerent e-tards were walking down the street one day mouthing off to everyone.
I just wrote a lengthy explanation about what happened, but since nobody is likely to give a damn let’s just say I took care of 'em. That was two on one. Three on one? That would be more trouble.
If I could pick my friends to have along I don’t have to think too long or hard about it. I have a girl friend who’s quite a scrapper (she works in corrections) and a brother who is bigger, dumber and more aggressive than me. The three of us together could mop the floor with anyone who got too mouthy.
I am very good. I am not terribly fast, so I normally take a couple of blows before I land mine. I can absorb a lot of hurt before it starts to affect me. Once I hit, I hit for real. If it is one-on-one, I normally make my blow stick by turning it into a donkey bite to the neck or the inner thigh. Then it is down to the floor and pin the sucker down. Boy, it’s been a while. I might not be as good as I once was (yeah, like the country song)
I probably would have been more useful 3 months ago when I weighed 240 and was going to the gym and lifting three days a week. Since then I’ve been dieting and am somewhere under 200 right now and I stopped going to the gym almost 3 weeks ago. That being said I still have a good bit of muscle and if I’m in a fight I’m not afraid to fight dirty. Beer bottles over heads, head-butts, punches to the throat may all come into play.
I’m too damn old; I wouldn’t last a second. Even so, as a carry over from the bad old days, I can’t walk into a bar without sizing up every guy in sight. Some habits just don’t die.
