Pardon the title, but that’s what it’s all about, fists. I was in elementary school on Long Island and had a crush on a red-haired girl named Mary. Mary had, shall we say, a surplus of young men who found her attractive. She was sweet-looking and pleasant to talk to. But to Matt’s and my sorrow, she had a cruel streak.
Matt was my main competitor for Mary’s attention. One day, on the way home from school, Mary decided that Matt and I should fight to see who was the preferred boyfriend. Like young fools, we did. We had a fantastic fist fight and wrestling match. We had an audience of most of our class, and a few teachers hanging out of the windows.
There was just one problem. Not long after we started fighting, Mary and her coterie of friends walked off giggling and talking. After a few minutes, Matt and I stopped fighting and noticed the absence of Mary, and went home.
What came out of this was a mantra I’d repeat to myself that a girl who likes to see men fight was one to stay far away from. Matt didn’t learn the lesson and followed Mary around like a lamb in the nursery rhyme.
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From reading your blog for a while, I’d say you had a weakness for red headed girls.
Yes I did…I confess to that horrible weakness. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!
It’s OK, Lou. There are worse things. The spoons are beautiful. Wow. I sent you a message.
got it!
A valuable lesson indeed. She just wants to impress her female friends that guys are fighting over her.
That sums it up well.
He was the loser in that battle, she sounds like a lot to handle