I was last in a fight about 25 years ago, in Grade Six, so I was around 12.
I got a couple good shots in but he was pretty strong and he clocked me good in the eye a couple times and gave me a shiner. Then we were on the ground and he was just too strong and I couldn’t flip him over. It was a stalemate after that, and then the teachers pulled us apart.
I used to fight regularly when I was a kid and I won maybe 75% of the time, but I haven’t fought since then.
Let me see. Fourth grade, this Italian kid (Adriano - I still remember the name!) challenged me to a fight. I reluctantly went down to a hidden area of the playground and we put up our dukes. After five seconds of staring at each other and trying to intimidate each other with steely glares, one of our classmates runs up and says “the teacher says you have to stop fighting now” so of course I, being a good child, said “OK” and walked away, leaving my opponent and his childish jeers behind. Ha! I sure showed him! He never messed with me again. I like to think that young Adriano was struck dumb with fear by my performance on that day.
Never. The closest I ever got was being assaulted on the street by a complete stranger.
6th grade (I’m now 49). I’m sensing a pattern here.
This tough-acting, gang-type girl named Delilah (I know!) and I had traded some very junior-high-girl insults during and after a game of dodgeball. Once I was dressed, I walked down the row of lockers to chat with a friend, but Delilah ran up to me, grabbed my hair, pulled my head down, and starting slapping my head. I couldn’t see anything but the floor since she had my head pulled down and my hair was in the way, so with adrenaline pumping, I blindly punched as hard as I could in her direction. I hit her in the stomach and she let go of my hair immediately. It might have been a little painful, but mostly I think she was surprised that I fought back at all, and that I punched instead of the slapping and hair-pulling she was doing. As soon as she let go, I stood upright and punched her again, catching her in the throat and propelling her back into the lockers (maybe a foot behind her). She slumped down a bit and was holding her throat, and I took off immediately for my next class. I was in shock that she had attacked me, or that I had shut her down that quickly.
Fortunately, I didn’t do any real damage. I didn’t mean to hit her in the throat; I just wanted to stop her and swung wildly, and that’s where my fist landed. For the rest of the day, I kept waiting for a teacher or principal to come after me, but nobody did.
A few weeks passed and Delilah didn’t say anything to me or acknowledge me in any way, which was fine with me. Then one day after gym, I was talking to my friend by her locker again. Delilah came up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. I didn’t know it was her, so I turned around and BAM! She backhanded me in the mouth hard, then took off running as fast as she could as her friends blocked the exit so I couldn’t go after her, which I wouldn’t have done anyway. Instead, I headed straight to the coach’s office and told her Delilah hit me, which was fairly obvious from the red mark across my face.
The coach took me to the principal’s office so I could explain what happened, and then Delilah was hauled in too. They gave her three days in on-campus suspension (not her first visit), and I was free to go.
A few more weeks passed by, and I was waiting by the school driveway for my mom to pick me up after school. Delilah and a few of her friends started walking toward me, and I was trying to decide whether I should run or try to fight. They were between me and the school, and I wasn’t very fast, so I figured I was about to be in the middle of an epic beatdown. To my surprise, Delilah started talking to me like we were old friends, and kept it up for several minutes until my mom showed up and I left. We never had any problems after that. I guess she decided that I wasn’t a pushover, and since she’d had the last “word” when she smacked me, everything was cool between us.
I guess the moral of the story is: I am a super badass. Nearly twenty years later, I am confident that I still could beat up almost any unarmed junior high girl. 
I’ve made it almost 42 years without ever getting into a fist fight.
hmmm… That would be sometime in 2001. I was in a full-blown bar brawl. I broke a chair on someone that night, and being full of the drink didn’t notice the beating I took until the next morning. Ugh…
Years and years and years. At least 30, maybe more.
Like others, I’ve never gotten into a fist fight as far as I can recall. The worst I’ve ever done was accidentally pushing my neighbor out of a playground set, and I was like 8 at the time.
Now imaginary fistfights, on the other hand…
Years ago. I was a lieutenant. In those days a certain amount of aggression was encouraged. I could have killed him. Thank God I did not.
On the other hand, I charges a rude driver with a steel whip yesterday. He reversed and drove away.
Um, never.
(don’t hit me!)
I did face down this absolute waste of space when I was a sophomore in HS. She was picking on another girl after gym class. I looked at her and told her to cut it out. Mary (for that was her name) instantly threatened me with a fight. I again looked at her and told her (very snidely–I do a good snidely) I was not going to fight her.
then the bell rang and we all left. I remember being scared she was going to find me, but that was the end of it.
Back in 8th grade, one of the other kids at summer camp was beating up my little brother almost daily so I stepped in and “took care of things”.
Got in trouble of course, but I remember this as one of the few times while growing up that my father said he was proud of me…
ETA: I was 19 at the time.
Wow, I thought I would be the only one who **may ** have had one in a previous life, but never in **this ** one. And I’ve been eligible for AARP for several years 
I’ve been sucker punched after a drunken shoving match, and I’m a blue belt in Shotokan karate, but sadly I’ve never been in a real fistfight. I guess I’m not that sad, but I am a little. There’s something in a gentlemanly fistfight that I find to be highly romantic.
I’ve broken up more fights than I can count as a bouncer. I’ve been involved in several fistfights on the rugby pitch. The two most memorable are the non-fight at practice last week where we ended up in hockey position (left hand holding the jersey, right hands cocked back) but didn’t swing because we were able to gather our heads before anything happened. The other was the time the other team’s half back was kicking one of your players in the head, so I punched him in the face, and he tried to bite my ear off. I still have scars.
The last time I was in a physical confrontation outside of working at a bar or on the rugby pitch was when me and two of my buddies were at a house party about a year ago. We turned a corner, and saw a guy choking a girl on the ground. We didn’t even ask what the situation was, we just beat the ever living shit out of him. Then she got mad at us. Typical.
Last time for me was as a high school freshman. There were a couple of guys in gym class who liked to pick on the nerds and targeted me. Unfortunately for them I was possibly in better shape than they were, due to riding my bicycle everywhere (this was in San Francisco). One grabbed me from behind, possibly so the other one could pummel me while I was pinned. But the first guy didn’t expect me to elbow him in the ribs while pushing him into the nearest wall. After that they still talked shit, but they didn’t try to fight me.
Later, at a different school when I was a senior, this stupid freshman decided he didn’t like me and kept trying to pick a fight. I had about a foot and 50 pounds on him. One day I told him to meet me behind one of the buildings after school, just to shut him up. I had no intention of actually going, though, and I didn’t. He didn’t bother me after that. I’m still not sure what exactly to make of the whole thing.
But, what if she had hit you? How would you have responded?
Almost 22 years ago. Little neighborhood dive bar, late afternoon, 3 friends and I were playing pool for the beginning of a Girls Night Out, when a skanky, shit-faced bimbo mistook one of us for someone else. She was so drunk that when she tried to slap Laura she backhanded Christy. I pulled her away, and then her equally drunk male companion slugged me. Or rather, tried to slug me but ended up getting his fingers tangled in my hair.
Never having been in a hair-pulling girly fight, I thought the appropriate response was a right cross. It rattled his cage but he swatted at me again, so I popped him harder. He dropped as it dawned on me that a) he was male, and b) a pussy.
The cops showed up, took everyone’s statement, hauled the skank & her pussy to jail. We “girls” didn’t buy a drink for months after that, thanks to the regulars who witnessed the altercation.
There are advantages to growing up with a herd of rough boy cousins, apparently 
2 weeks ago. Loudmouthed old drunk slapped a woman in the back of the head for sitting on “his” stool. Told him it was my stool(my bar) and he spit his drink in my face. Had him escorted out before he could fight back. I win!