Your Fight Stories: Narc Gets Stuck, Uses Scar to Get Ladies

Reader Paul D. writes:

I’ve got a rather ho-hum fight story for ya’. Well, not really a fight story, but telling it has its advantages. You’ll see what I mean…

Back in high school, circa 1990, I was in a one-sided fight with a dude who shall herein be named Asshole.

The fight concerned a disparagement of the honor of a nice young lady herein named Young Lady.

I had a few classes with Young Lady. We were by no means “close friends”, but we knew each other enough to say “hi” in the hall or at lunch. Nice girl on the periphery of the “popular” clique. Asshole was in my gym class. We had never really crossed paths before, but I knew him enough to know he was an asshole.

One day in said gym class I overheard Asshole bragging to his asshole buddies that he had a date with Young Lady the following weekend. He proceeded to tell his asshole buddies all the things he planned to do to her on the date. Uncomfortable things. (”What? Like the back of a Volkswagen?”) His braggadocio was so cliche as to resemble Biff from the “Back to the Future” movies.

Paul’s story concludes after the jump. He gets laid…out.

So, being the passive-aggressive weenie that I was back then (hey, I was 14), I informed Young Lady about Asshole’s intentions. She broke off the date, but apparently also let slip who had tipped her off. Needless to say, Asshole came looking for me the next day. He got up in my face in gym class and told me to mind my own business.

Before I could say anything, he punched me in the chest. Not really hard, but I remember looking down at my chest and thinking “wow, is this really going in this direction already? I haven’t even said anything yet.” When I looked up, he let loose a solid right-jab to my right eyebrow. I went tumbling ass-over-teakettle. Blood was beginning to pour.

Then the gym teacher came in and broke it up. Asshole was sent to the office, I was sent to the nurse.

The end of the story brought 3 days suspension for Asshole, and 3 stitches in the right eyebrow for yours truly. (And a week or so of walking around school with a shiner.)

Now, a reasonable person would hear that story and rightly conclude that I got my ass handed to me. I have no illusions that I came out the winner in any “real” sense, although I maintain that my eyebrow healed up and he was still an asshole.

The important part of the story is that I have an impressive and noticeable scar smack in the middle of my right eyebrow. Every girl I’ve spent time with since then has asked me about it sooner or later, and every one has swooned at the idea that I took a punch for defending a girl’s honor. Basically, the scar got me laid. A lot.

Asshole’s probably in jail now. I’ll not speculate on how often he gets laid.

I call it a win.