7th grade was the closest I ever came. She was in 10th grade, and she hated me for reasons that seemed very irrational. I didn’t personally have anything against her, but at the time I was a proselytizing conservative and I guess she thought I was judging her for being such a dumb slut. So after months of bullying, finally it came down to me and her in the driveway in front of my house, her friends all hanging around and watching (they had spread a lot of lies between us in an effort to get us to fight.) My parents grabbed lawn chairs and sat down in our front yard to watch the entertainment.
I really didn’t want to fight her. She shoved me, and quite reflexively, I shoved her back. I was in martial arts at the time. She punched me in the mouth and I nailed her with a front kick right between the legs. I just stood there blinking, quite surprised at the pain in my jaw, and I even commented aloud, ‘‘Wow, that hurt more than I expected it would.’’
Then I turned around and left, because, as I mentioned before, I really had no desire to fight her. My parents report she went home limping and whimpering, but they also spent the whole evening lecturing me for being such a conservative, judgmental Jesusfreak. We exchanged a few blows, but I don’t even remember being sore or bruised.
The next day she told everyone at school that she had kicked my ass. :rolleyes: She stopped bullying me, though.
Came back to post the most recent, but see that JHWT beat me to it.
January 16th. At a party, a kid pulled his pants down and wiggled his thingy around for a good 45 seconds. I told him he had nothing to prove. He told me I was a ugly bitch. I punched him in the face repeatedly. No, it was not justified. Yes, I was extremely drunk. No, I am not an ugly bitch.
Turns out he was only 17 (I am 22). Oops.
Before that, maybe August? I live in a building with four apartments. The girl who lives downstairs (who is about my age) was having a party. I had a few friends over, and we were all going to walk somwhere. Girl Downstairs’ Friends (GDF) were outside, and I stopped to ask one of them someting when one of GDF broke a beer bottle over one of my friends’ head for esseintially no reason*. I kind of, uh, attacked him, and then his sister who tried to get me off of him. I was extremely drunk then as well. I have badass scar below my eye and a few on my wrist from the incident, but I still singlehandedly fought off the four girls who got on me for it, so I win. To continue the theme, yes, I am immature.
Moral of the story: don’t drink alcohol. Also, don’t be a crazy 22 year old.
[sub]*GDF thought My Friend stole a sign off Girl Downstairs’ door. As it turns out, GDF was schizophrenic and was being delusional.[/sub]
Strange. . . I had just mentioned this story to my wife the other night–and it sort of depends on what you’d call a ‘fistfight’ (I would define it as more than just one hit/slap/punch from either side)
Anyways, back in college (early ‘96) I was on a club lacrosse team and we headed from Prescott down to Tuscon for a game. After the game there was a keg ‘o’ beer on the other team’s sidelines, and one or two of the other guys had already been drinkin’ some. Something about a hit or two riled these guys up (I think), and at the end of the game, there was some sort of tension. Game ends, both teams line up to shake hands and mill about. The two buzzin’ blowhards start hollering about something, and I said to one of 'em, “Yeah, well, the game’s over. It ain’t worth getting riled up over, it’s just a damn game. . .” to which one of them starts a right hook at my head.
He was a little slow, so I dodged it, slapped it over with my left hand, and reflexively jabbed him with a right fist on the bridge of his nose. He stepped back (a little blood), and then everyone jumped into to break it up. I overheard someone on his side saying “. . . dammit Frank, ya chowderhead, look what you started. You better not bleed all over my new truck . . .”
So, blows were launched, one landed, one didn’t. It isn’t what I’d call a ‘fistfight’, but I guess it counts.
Tripler
I don’t recall if we won that game. Wasn’t worth the four-hour trip tho. . .
Wait, what? Your parents sat around and watched you fight someone else without intervening, and then let her go home clearly in pain, and then only lectured you about being a “Jesusfreak”? And then you had a fisticuffs session with them? Am I the only person who finds whole thing this bizarre? Or am I just being whooshed?
I can’t remember the last time I was in a proper fist-fight; I did have a few physical arguments in school, but those were mostly wrestling and pushing than anything else. Haven’t been in a physical fight since I’ve been adult, unless you want to count getting punched in the face when I was mugged. I would have fought back (which would have been a stupid thing to do) if they’d stuck around, but they were rather fleeter of foot than I was.
6th grade. The biggest kid in school was picking on me by the bicycle rack after school. I really, really wasn’t interested in fighting him and he knew it but then he made the mistake of pushing me into the rack and those two metal rods you stick your handlebars inbetween got me right in the back and it hurt… like hell. I remember Dale standing there and I just reached out and creamed him right in the nose. He looked at me, dumbfounded, and said “What’d you do that for?” Jeez, what a stupid f*ck%ng question. I jumped on top of him, pummeled him a few times and all the kids (a couple of dozen came to witness the fight since he’d promised it all day) started yelling for him to “give.” I told him if he wanted I’d let him get up and we’d call it a draw, no winner or loser. He agreed but actually all us kids won because Dale’s aura of being invincible was from then on shattered. He quit being a bully and I watched in later years as he just concentrated on being a bit of a loser.
It’s probably at least 4 or 5 years since I’ve been in a proper throwdown. Last one was in a bar when some drunk guy wouldn’t leave one of the ladies at the bar alone, and I mean would not leave her alone. I told him to knock it off and he shoved me. Fighting a really drunk person when you’re relatively sober is hysterical.
One where we were actually trying to hurt each other? Ages ago. Don’t think I could remember the specific fight if I tried.
However, this thread is a good excuse to tell a moderately funny story, and I’m all about that. A few months ago I was at a gaming convention. A friend I rarely meet was also there, so we sat bullshitting like long-distance friends do. One of us, somehow, for some reason, said something about fighting each other. I stood up. He stood up. I removed my jacket. He removed his glasses. At this point, there was pretty much no return.
I crouched slightly, preparing for the wrestling match I assumed was to follow. No dice. He made fists and just started whaling at me. We’re talking fists making huge circles in the air and slamming into my body. I think fine, and start hitting back. Neither one of us have a clue about what we’re doing, so we’re just swinging away wildly. I land a good one on his arm, so he kind of crouches down and starts hammering away at my stomach. Two can play at that game, and I take his breath away with a hit. That’s when he gets pissed off and rushes at me screaming. I decide that caution is the better part of valour, and run for it. He chases me around the room for a couple of laps until I realize that this is no way to behave, so I spin around, lean back and put my knee up in front of me for defence. He stops before he crashes into me, but we get right back to swinging away. When we’re about to crash into a table belonging to the local store, covered in carefully laid out rows of trading cards, we finally come to our senses. I ask him if he has some suppressed rage he hasn’t mentioned before, but get no answer.
I find a long, bleeding cut on my hand afterwards. The scar still remains, but is fading. Pity.
I’ve been in roughly 10 or so overall (I’m 36). The last one I can recall had to be in a parking lot about a dozen years ago or better. I was escorting a female friend home from work because she was having trouble with a few customers. I was talking with some people while I waited when a car pulled up 4 deep (the trouble makers). One guy gets out, sees me waiting there and talking and says “Hey, you waiting for Jane*?” I answered in the affirmative, and the guy, who was a wisp of a fella compared to me, whips out a can of mace. I grabbed the big maglite I was carrying in my belt and headed for him. He sprayed me, dead in the face, I kept on going, stumbling forward, and landed some pretty solid blows to his body and head before he managed to bail back into the car and speed off. I Hucked the flashlight at the escaping car for good measure and broke the back passenger door window.
That’s the last time I’ve gotten myself in that kind of hassle. Though lately, to be honest, there are some people I wouldn’t mind just throwin’ a good old fashioned warehouse beatin’ for good measure.
The last (and only) time I was in a real, physical fist fight I was in the third grade. I got beat up a lot by a couple of girls in my grade and, finally, one day I snapped and hit back.
This was also the only time the administration at that school decided to do anything. I got suspended. :rolleyes: I was home-schooled from fourth grade onward and that worked out well for me, as it was a really crappy school and I was enough of a self-motivator to do well on my own. It wouldn’t have been the right solution for everyone.
Now, the last time I hit someone was on March 2, 2008, when a date went very…sour. Scariest experience of my life. I’m quite relieved to have avoided further violent altercations.
Not since junior high. Seems to be a recurring pattern in this thread.
Gym class, locker room, kid tried to pick a fight. I grabbed his wrists and refused to let him punch me, and we danced around like that for a while before I threw him into a locker. He was about a head shorter than me, and while I was/am a nerd, I wasn’t exactly unfit in those days. Still don’t see what was in it for him.
The weirder thing was when I ran into him first year in high school and he talked to me like we’d always been friends.
Also 9th grade, picked on by lots of bullies. Finally the runtiest, scabbiest little punk of the gang walks past me in the hall and spits in my face, I noticed that he was all alone, so I grabbed him with one hand by his throat and bent him over the balcony railing saying in a menacingly, horse voice “leave me ALONE.”
I was shaking the rest of the day and almost in tears but they never bothered me again.
I don’t count the ones as an adult because I was pulling a part-time security shift at a rather ritzy nightclub in San Diego where I was a chef. They were all drunk, coked out yuppies who couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag.
I was 16 and alone in a Burger King parking one night when 5 guys surrounded me and tried to goad me into fighting, but momma didn’t raise no fool. That was the one and only time I’ve ever been punched. As far as pushing and shoving I can only count a hand full of times in my whole life.
I was in a huge brawl at the end of a flag football game about 15 years ago in Ft. Collins, CO. It was a close game and we won it, running out the clock on the last play. Our running back ran out of bounds and was hit visciously after the final whistle. Then it was on - about thirty guys just whaling on each other. There were so many people in a small area that it was hard to actually hit someone intentionally. Our captian got sucker punched after it looked like it was over and he had to have facial surgery. The attacker got taken away by the police.
I’ve been in a few fistfights with another guy, but that was the only free-for-all brawl.
