Nobody believes me, but it's true.

Please learn to control your testosterone, "average males".

Me, I was getting beat up quite frequently as a kid until finally in 8th Grade my family convinced me that the babysitter who taught me to NEVER fight back was wrong.

So I exercised and studied fistfighting and martial arts as a science of making people quit punching you.

3 or 4 fights later and I never had to worry about it again in high school.

But somehow always managed to talk my way out of it, and usually make the instigator feel like shit at the same time.

I suppose it's entirely possible that I was just lucky.

some drunk who was upset because the server turned him down or I cut him off. Wasn't much fun.

Then i got kind of punkish because i found out i was pretty good at it. Took me some time to grow out of it.

Worked as a bartender and bouncer in a couple bars. Best jobs I've had ... despite having to throw them up on occasion.

I have learned that if you are angry at some stranger, don't stick your face right into his face while yelling at him cuz the stranger is likely to respond by smacking you right in the face. Beyond that, my fighting skills still suck.

and will explain their prowess at fighting in this thread. Let's watch.

Disclaimer: I have not been in a fight since I was 6 years old, and do not claim to have any special abilities in fighting.

We'll see.

comical... but spot on!

sP

I suppose next you'll find some biased survey illustrating how we're all much worse drivers than we think we are too, right?

I think

I remember sporting my beer muscles one evening as a younger man and telling my bar antagonist "there (was)n't anything between us but air and opportunity." A tough line which faded away quickly as I took a vicious beating outside by the Golden Gloves boxer I was calling out. The part that hurt the most was, as bad as I got clowned, it was apparent he was going easy on me. Good times, good times.

I think this post is trying to misandry me!

I woke up and looked at my face. Bloody and bruised, swollen. I had to go to work laying block. The other guys asked what happened and I said Duane and they knew. About 10 am Duane's car came rolling up to the job. He wasn't driving. He got out with a cast to his elbow. He had broken his hand on my face. We both laughed, I put up my tools and we went to the bar. The old days.....