[sinclairfan]

WELCOME TO PENN STATE

Hello there, my name is Susan.  I was born in 1993, and grew up in a small town in Central Pennsylvania.  My childhood was happy but dull.  Our town was full of good people, but it didn't have a lot to offer.  Once you hit high school, you started getting serious about your studies, because you knew school was your ticket out.  If you could get into a good college, you could look forward to a job in Philadelphia or Pittsburgh.  If not, well, you could look forward to the rest of your life in this same small town.  Depressing.

By sophomore year, you could tell which girls were in which bucket.  Which ones had their act together with grades and who were spending their summers visiting colleges.  And which ones couldn't make the cut, and were spending their summers working as waitresses and servers and hostesses.  I was in the college girl crowd--more on that later.  Because the town was fundamentally nice, the college girl's didn't "look down on" the server girls.  We still hung out with each other, talked on Facebook and stuff.

But there was one noticeable difference.  The server girls started getting into fights, and the college girl's didn't.  Anytime during school, after school, or at a weekend party that there was a planned or spontaneous girlfight, you could betf your bottom dollar that neither participant was a college girl.  It was just an unspoken rule.  College girls had too much to lose, so why throw away your future on a stupid one-minute catfight?

And it made me sad.

Because i wanted to fight.  Other girls obsessed about losing their virginity.  I obsessed about getting into a down and dirty hair pulling gir lfight.  Anytime I would see or hear about two server girls trading blows, my whole body would tingle, with me fantasizing about being one of the participants in the fight.  I couldn't explain why, but didn't try to.  I just wanted as I fucking bad to be in a fight. 

And I knew I wouldn't be.  At least not in high school.  Because I was headed to college.  Frustrating.

I knew what college I wanted to go to.  Penn State.  In Happy Valley.  As soon as I saw the student section on TV on a football Saturday, i knew that was the place for me.  Maybes someday after a game, me and a bitch wearing a Michigan or Ohio State jersey would bump into each other after the game, square up, and go at it.  As soon as i got my Penn State accerptance letter in April 2011, I knew my #1 goal before I graduated Penn State---ge t into at least one damn fight.  Just one.  Is that too much for a girl to ask?

I arrived on campus in late summer 2011.  Football season, freshman year started great.  I checked the Big 10 standings in late October.  First place in the division--on track for the first-ever conference championship game.

Then it happened, so damn fast.  The Jerry Sandusky scandal broke.  After 61 years at the school, Joe Paterno got fired.  Then he got cancer and died.  The football team started losing, and was banned from postseason.  For a long time.  No more football Saturdays, at least for the rest of my school career.

Dammit.

Wonder if that girlfight will everf happen.

That's when I met Julia.

Blonde, like me.

34D, like me.

5'7" 125 to my 5'6" 118.

And itching for a fight, same as me. 

Even worse, actually.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

TWO LOST OPPORTUNITIES

You know how when you're trying really hard, too hard, to find a boyfriend that you overthink things and miss the opportunity right in front of your eyes?  Well, a similar sort of thing happened to me at Penn State in the fall of 2011.  I was so fixated on looking for the perfect first fight that I let two opportunities pass me by.

The first opportunity came at a freshman dorm party.  Now, this will become important to my story later on, so I'll give you the detail now.  The purpose of freshman housing at Penn State is to get out of it in time gor next year.  You get out of it by finding a group of 4 of you who want to room together in a suite and apply for sophomore housing together.  3 is too few, 5 is too many, you need a group of exactly four.  If you fail, you're stuck back in freshman housing with girls who are a full year younger than you, which obviously eould be mortifying.  So the race is on all fall to get your "Gang of 4" locked in tight in time for the spring application process.  It's quite a stressful process--political skills are a must.  The quality of your social life the last 3 years of school is riding on the outcome.

So care must be given to every right and wrong word, said and unsaid, to every slight.  I suppose it's like rushing a sorority, but without the structure of upperclassmen providing some oversight.  It's just every freshman girl for herself.

So, with that backdrop, I plunged myself into the Thursday night/Friday night/Saturday night drinking party scene.  Here are the two fight scenarios which my freshman, oblivious self somehow missed.

The first was one Saturday night.  A bunch of freshmen girls were hanging out, pre-gaming for various off-campus parties later in the evening.  One of the regulars in our dorm had a high school friend visiting--the visitor was attending Widener, but hated it, and was considering transferring to Penn State.  She had red hair and was about my build.  Anyways, we were talking about available rides for some party about 5 miles away, and the red head said something, obtusely, not quite TO me but not quite quietly either, to the effect of "Well I can take some of you, but I ain't taking Blondie."  I thought nothing of it at the time--I wasn't even dressed for the party.  Only the next day did the other girls ask me, "What was up that redhead's butt last night?  Why was she throwing shade at you?  I woulda stood up and asked her what her problem with me was."  After some asking around, I did indeed confirm that the visiting redhead perceived me as a threat for a potential hookup at the party, and was intentionally excluding me.  She and I coulda woulda shoulda had a girltalk chat.  But we never did.  Dammit.

Missed opportunity number two came in the dining commons.  I had given up my seat at the table to throw away my tray, and when I returned, a girl none of us liked, who was flunking out, named Tammy had taken my seat.  She asked if I wanted it back--I took the question literally, and said, "No, that's ok," and found another.  Only later did some guys clue me in that she was testing me--shd meant the question as a challenge, and was hoping I would challenge her back before she left campus.  Stupid me.  I never saw her again.  Shit.

I pledged to myself I would not turn down the next such challenge. 

It came from Julia.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

ROOMMATE ARRANGEMENTS

As the spring deadline neared for groups of 4 girls to submit applications for suite, I had formed an alliance with two Asian girls, Ling and Shao.  Not to reinforce stereotypes, but these were two girls who would help me in my major, which was pre-med.  They would be clean, studious roomates, but they also had friends, both boys and girls.  Perfect.  Now we just needed a fourth.

Ling introduced us to a blonde named Julia.  Julia's hair was down her back, and I noticed she was a D-cup like me.  My first impression of her was negative, but I attributed this vibe to my petty jealousy of her ample chest.  When we had parties in our suite, I wanted to be the first girl everyone noticed.  Two blonde D-cups in one suite was, well, one too many.  But out of respect for Ling, I agreed to give Julia a chance.  We decided that the three of us would spend a weekend in Shao's dorm room go see if we all got along.

Two things about that weekend were creepy. 

The first weird thing Julia did that weekend was to follow me down the hallway and into the restroom everytime i washed my face, brushed my teeth, put my hair up for the night, took a shower, or went potty.  And here's the creepiest thing about the potty--she'd go into the stall next to me.  I remember one time I kinda sorta needed to go, ummm, you know, number two.  And there's creepy Julia in the stall next to me, making some sort of rubbing sound.  I tried to listen to hear what it was, but then said to myself, "Ewwww, do I really want to know?"  So I went pee, held in the rest, and had a bellyache for the rest of the weekend.  Which made me really crabby.  Which had a domino effect on what happened next.

As the dreadful weekend was wrapping up, thank God, I went to pack up my portable makeup kit.  Some pieces seemed missing, so I looked around Shao's dorm room.  There at the mirror was Julia....putting on my fucking makeup.

With my belly cramping, I snapped at her, "Julia?!?  Who said you could use my fucking makeup?!?"

--Susan, relax.  I tried to ask, but you weren't fucking around.

--So you just fucking take it?!?!?

--I didn't think it was a big deal.

--It is!!!!

<<<<I take a step forward.  The tingling sensation I would get in high school at girlfights washes over my body.  Make a move, Julia.  Just give me a reason.>>>>

--Susan, you're scaring me.  I've never seen this side of you.

<<<<<<We stare at each other, considering how to resolve the standoff.>>>>

--Do you apologize for using my makeup??

--Do YOU apologize for snapping at me?!?

We were probably about 10 seconds from catfighting.  But Shao broke the spell by walking into the room.  She looked at us, about yo ask if everything was ok, when Julia and I relaxed and backed off.

I packed me stuff, retreated to my dorm room, and masturbated for a half hour.  And figured I would never see Julia again.

The next day, Ling texted me she submitted the housing application for herself, Shao, Juila, and me.

Ling?!?  WTF?!?  I hated Julia, I texted to Ling.

Well, too bad, too late.  I submitted the form, Ling texted back.

Oh, great.  Starting in August I'm roomates with creepy Julia.  Well, it's March now.  Still 5 months away.  Nothing I can do about it now.

Or is there?

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

DELAWARE RIVER RAFTING TRIP

Penn State has a tradition, at the end of freshman year, of a bunch of students driving to the Pennsylvania-New York border for the day and taking a rafting trip down the Delaware River.  The reason why it's a freshman thing is that usually, by the end of your sophomore year, hou have a fancy summer internship lined up in something relagdd to your major.  Summer after your freshman year is the last summer you need to work a job that's low paying and humiliating--mine is life guard at a town water park  20 miles from home.  Trust me, it's not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.  Many, too many, of the swimmers are toddlers who have no business being in a public pool.  They, umm, have "accidents", and i need to be the one that closes the pool until it's, umm, "cleaned".  Disgusting.  And even the older kids are pain.  My whole summer will consist of me blowing my whistle and yelling, "No running!"  "Walk!"  Well, you get the picture--to steel my nerves for my sucky summer, I need to have a day of fun.

This will be perfect--there's 8 to a raft.  I'll get Ling, Shao, and, uggh, yes, Julia, and we'll pair up with 4 boys and raft down the river.  I'll hook up with one of the boys--the cutest one, obviously--and the 4 of us girls will have a bonding experience, so we can look forward to a great fall in our suite.

Around early May, our raft of 8 is all set up.  The boys are all really, really cool.  Partiers, definitely.  This will be fun.  We finalize the driving arrangements for the day.  And the supplies.  And the beer. 

Final exams go smoothly.  The day of the rafting trip does not.

When we show up at the meeting place the morning of the trip, Julia runs up and hugs me.  Gross.  "Hey, Susan, change of plans!!  Ling and Shao backed out.  They flew to some intensive foreign language summer camp in North Carolina.  What nerds, huh?"

"Oh, umm, ok.  But I thought you need 8 on a raft."

"You do!!  The guys are bringing 2 more friends!  Isn't this the best?  You and me drinking on a raft with 6 guys?!?"

I'm feeling a bit hesitant at this point.  I'm not at all liking that Ling and Shao are making a habit of communicating to Julia behind my back.  This roomate thing won't work if I'm constantly an afterthought, a fourth wheel if you will.  And, while I like being in a boat with guys, 6-on-2 is going to have a different sexual dynamic than 4-on-4 would have.  I guess my odds of hooking up are now better.  Maybe that's why Julia's so excited.  Maybe i should go with the flow like she is.

We drive into the wilderness and to area of the Delaware River where you change into your clothes.  You're going to get soaked on the raft, so you need to change into different clothes, and leave your purse, wallet, and cellphone in the car.  Julia and I go into the ladies' changing room.  Without asking me, she locks the two of us in one of the first changing stall the becomes available, giving the excuse that we "need go hurry--the boys are almost ready".  As we change into our rafting clothes, Julia asks me to apply sunscreen to her entire naked top.  I hesitate.  "Everywhere?? Really??"  "Yes, you have to," she insists.  "Our t-shirts are going to be soaked, and you'll get burned right thru.  You're not wearing a bra, right?"  "I guess not."  "Ok,ok, hurry, hurry.  i don't want the boys to leave without us."

Julia and I begin hurriedly applying sunscreen go each others naked tops.  Me to her back and shoulder.  Her to mine.  Then we face each other.  Our eyes are drawn to each others D-cup breasts.  We stare.  And stare.  And stare.  I can't speak for Julia, but for the first time in my life, I'm jealous of another girl's tits.  Julia's breasts and nipples--they're as if a sculptor designed them.  Round and perfect and firm.  To break the awkward silence, I sunscreen my own front.  Julia stops me.  "No, no  let me do it.  You need to get everywhere."  Julia applies sunscreen to my neck, my belly, and finally my breasts.  She kneads my breasts in a deep, massaging motion.  I continue to stare at hers, mesmerized.  I finally figure out what we're doing.  We're comparing.  Until 2 minutes ago, we both assumed we were the one with the better chest.  But that we've seen the competition, we can't decide for sure.  Shit, it's a tie.  I'm not worse than her--but I'm not better either.  The feeling is worse than jealousy.  It's an "unfinished business" feeling.  And I don't like it.  Or her.

There's a knock on the door.  "You almost finished in there?"  That breaks the spell.  We whip on our clothes and run out to the raft.  Thank God the 6 boys are ready--it's awkward being alone with Julia.  We run out to the raft.  I need a drink, I tell one of the boys.  He offers me a Bud Light can, and a Captain Morgan 1 oz.  I chug both.  The buzz I need kicks in.  I see Julia out of the corner of my eye.  She staring at me.

We head down the river.  The rapids are slow this spring--it was a warm March, and all the winter snowmelt has already washed away.  We're drinking, talking, laughing, flirting.  I need to pee.  We get to a sandbar in the river, and I go over the side of the boat, waddle over to thd sandbar, and squat, trying to pee into water.  But I'm self-conscious of everyone watching me.  Julia jumps in and waddles up next to me.  "Let me show how it's done rookie."  She squats to her neck.  20 seconds later, she stands back up.  "Ta da!!  Now you do it.  Squat deeper."  The boys are horsing around, giving us semi-privacy, noticing my struggling.  I finish and stand back up.

"Guys, she did it!!!" Julia yells.  The boys give a mock cheer.  "Look, our t-shirts are soaked!!!  Wet t-shirt contest guys!!!  Whose are nicer?!?  Pick a winner!!! I wanna know!!!!"

Half the guys yell Julia's name.  But half yell mine.  Julia is clearly dspleased.

"Guys!!!  Wanna watch us make out?!?!?"

Cheering, even including from neighboring rafts.

Julia turns me to her, and whispers "You fucking bitch," snd proceeds to tongue kiss me.  Over 40 people are watching us, cheering.

The kiss lasts a full minute.  When it's over, Julia pushes me away and says, "Bet ya can't wsit for the fall.  Roomie."  She then splashes water at me.

"Are you giving me attitude, bitch?", I demand.

But I get no answer.

Not then.

Not the rest of the rafting trip.

Not all summer long.

Move-in day in August is sure going to be interesting.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

LONG, HOT SUMMER

My summer lifeguard job starts on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, May 2012.  I sit in the hot sun, seething in anger at Julia's unwelcome kiss on the Delaware River.  If a guy had done that to me, I'd have grounds for pressing harrassment charges.  The kiss wasn't tender at all.  It was hostile, almost violent.  Julia's tongues wasn't probing my mouth during the kiss--it was aggressively poking, pushing my tongue aside, like an intruder pushing a security guard (an unarmed, Mall Cop-variety security guard) aside and invading somewhere she's not welcome.  I remember receiving a non-consensual mouth kiss one time at a frat party.  At least that kiss was no tongue.  Julia's was much worse, and much more aggressive.  Borderline violent.

We have each others' cellphone number.  I wait for a text, an apology.  None arrives.  I consider confronting her (by text--since she is out-of-state in Maryland for the summer).  I decide not to.  I can't bear the possibility of texting Julia and her ignoring me.

It's totally on between us.  Not much to discuss.  If anything.

Ling and Shao are far away for the summer, too, at their North Carolina camp.  Cellphones aren't allowed during the day at their camp, so I'm stuck trying to get lucky and catch them live one night.  It takes all the way until June 26 for me to finally catch Ling one night.

Susan:  Hey roomie.  What's new?

Ling:  Oh, not much.  Camp is crazy.  I wish I was lifeguarding.

S:  No, trust me, you don't.  "No running."  "No running."  "No running."

L:  Ha!  So sorry.  Hey, how'd the rafting go with Julia?

S:  Why?  Did she say something??

L:  She told me to ask you about it. 

S:  Ok, time out.  When was this?  How often do you text her?

L:  We've only texted twice.  Start of the summer, and then last week.  She said she had an SOS.

<<<<<Ok, why does Ling always talk to Julia before talking to me??  I knew Ling first.>>>>

S:  Talking about me and her at the Delaware River is an SOS?!?!?

L:  No, no, Susan....slow down....

L:  The SOS was something different....nothing involving you....

L:  Her SOS last week was that Julia had gotten into a bad catfight with another girl at a party....

L:  And the girl's parents were good friends with Julia's parents.....

L:  And Julia wanted my opinion of what she should and shouldn't tell her parents.

<<<<<<My hands shake, my palms sweat, and my body tingles as Ling's texts appear on my screen.  Especially that magic word.  "Catfight".  Julia was actually in a catfight last week?  A bad one?  I feel exactly as I did in high school when two server girls would fight in the bathroom.  Did the other girl attack Julia's perfect breasts during the fight?  Did she leave scratches on yhem?  Is that what made the fight "bad"?>>>>>

S:  Oh, wow.  A catfight?  Julia?

L:  Yes, a catfight.  You're not shocked, are you?  Susan, you're 19.  You've been in one by now, haven't you?

S:  No.  Ling, have you?  You're, like, an A-student.

L:  What does thst have to do with anything??

S:  So, Ling, you're telling me you've been in an actual catfight??

L:  Ok, maybe this is a cultural thing.  I know you're from a small town....

L:  But in Atlanta, in the suburbs where a lot of Asian families live....East Asian especially....

L:  The Asian girls go to these, I guess they're called juice bars....no one over 21 is allowed.....

L:  And if you're on the dance floor, or even milling around at the tables.....

L:  If you catch another girl's eye....and she looks in yours.....and neither girl stops staring.....

L:  It means you sant to catfight each other.....so you get 2 or 3 girls in your posse....

L:  And she gets 2 or 3 in yours....and you go to a parking lot and catfight.

S:  And you've done this?

L:  Yes.  Because if you don't, someday when you have to fight, like over a guy or a job, you won't know how to.....

L:  But I know Caucasian girls are different.

S:  How are we different?

L:  You use "fighting words".  You know, like, "Is anyone sitting here?".

<<<<<I think back to the girl in the Penn State Dining Commons who had tested me.  I now realize how badly I had failed the test.>>>>

I also realize how far Julia is ahead of me in fight experience.

I can't face her in August with no fight experience under my belt.

I need to get into a fight this summer.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

PRACTICE FIGHT #1

The night before the fourth of July, I'm out drinking on the screened-in front porch of the house of one of my fellow lifeguards, Natalie.  Another lifeguard, Brittany, is there with us too.  We're on the porch to watch fireworks, and to avoid mosquitoes, but we get to talking about my text conversation with Ling.

N:  This summer has been way too hot.  If can't end soon enough.

B:  I know.  I never thought I'd be looking forward to school so much.

S:  I had the most humiliating conversation with my new roomate the other day.  <<<For some reason, I'm ok with sharing the text conversation with Ling; but not the Delaware River episode wth Julia, or the lack of contact since then with Julia.>>>>

N:  Oh no, what happened??

S:  So, omg, she's this studious Asian girl named Ling.  Super smart.  In fact, she's spending her summer at an academic camp in North Carolina.  I'm gonna room with her in a suite in the fall.  Well, anyways, no not because she's Asian, but because she's an A-student, and petite, and you know like easy-going, I've never even seen her sad and bitchy, I always just assumed she's never been in a fight, and never will be either.  And she starts telling me she's started up catfights, out at juice bars, with strangers, check it out, so that <<<<air quotes>>>> she'll know how go catfight someday when she has to, over a man or over a job.

B:  I'd never catfight over a man.  But over a job, hell yeah.  Especially over a promotion.

N:  You say that, Brit, but some skank tries and flirt with your man watch what happens.

B:  Actually you're right.  But, Susan, what's the depressing part?  That Ling has fought?

N:  Or that you haven't, Susan?

B:  Oh give me a break, Natalie.  Susan's fought before, right?...Susan?

N:  Susan?

B:  Susan, say something, you're scaring me.

S:  No, I know, I'm an ass.  I've never been in a catfight.  My town is so, you know,....so....Mayberry.  The girls going to college there never fought.

N:  Correction--Never fought in public.  And even if there was no suitable high school opponent, you've been to Penn State for a year.  What's your excuse now?

B: Ya, Susan, it's like, what's up with that?  With you?

S:  <<<<<Exaspersted at myself>>>>Ugggh, I know.  Check it out.  I was in the dining commons, and I got up to bus my tray, and I go back go the table and this bitch who doesn't like me.....

N: .....and who you don't like??....

S:.....and who I don't like, she....

N.......she's in your seat??.....

S:.....Ok, who's story is this anyways?  But, wait, how did you know?

N:  Brittany, you wanna take this one?

B:  Susan, that girl totally wanted to fight you.  And you let her walk all over you.

S:  I know.  But.....we can't fight right there in the dc.

N:   Nnnooo....but you can fight in her room.  In yours.  Behind the building. 

B:  Susan, if that was a guy you wanted to hook up with, you wouldn't bang him in the dc.  But you'd find a private place.

S:  Ok, shut up!  Shut up!  I'm an ass.  So what do I do now?  I need help.

B:  What do you say, Natalie.?

N:  Ok, we need to get Susan her first fight.  She'll know what to do after that.

S:  Against who, tho?

B:  Well, in your first fight, you can either learn how to get beat up, but without turning your back or getting yourself killed.....I know someone.....

N:.....Or.....you can fight with someone who's in her first fight too....and I know someone.....

S:  I kinda wanna do both.

N:  Sounds like a plan.  But you'd hafta do my girl first, then Brittany's right?  Her name is Emma.  I met her giving her diving lessons a few weeks ago. 

S:  Oh, great, is she fucking 12?!?

N:  No, wise ass.  She's going into her senior year of high school.  She's spent so much time in training that she's missed school dances and parties.  So she's never fought.  I'll tell her about you.  Then you can look at each others' Facebook.  Then if you want go fight each other, set something up.  I can watch if you want.  Tell you how you did.

B:  Then I'll get my biker friend Kim to show you how it's done.  I'll explain why you want to fight her.  Maybe she'll go easy on you.

I get Brittany and Natalie to show me pictures of Emma and Kim.  Both girls are pretty--just from the pictures, you'd never guess which one was the diver and which one was the biker.  For example, they both have nose rings and tattoos--not a lot, but one of each.  Maybe they should be fighting each other.

But no.  No more excuses, Susan.  I need to do this.

I need to have 2 fights this summer.

To be continued......

[ThumperAlpha]

Can't wait for the next chapter

[sinclairfan]

SUSAN VS EMMA

Emma and I both have private Facebook pages, but Natalie gives me Emma's URL so I can "friend" her, so that she and I can arrange a time to text.  I spend all day on July 4th at the water park anxiously waiting for the day to end, as excited as the day in high school I was waiting for a prom invitation.  I race home and log on.  Emma has accepted my "friend" request.  I look at all the pictures and posts on her page--so pretty, so athletic.  She'll be really strong in a fight.  Good.  I wonder what Julia is doing to "prepare".

Emma says she's free to text at 10:30 tonight.  I wonder why so late. Not ideal for me--I have to lifeguard early tomorrow morning and was hoping for an early bedtime.  But I respond back, "Works for me, too.  TTY then."  I don't tell her this, but I wouldn't miss this appointment for the world.  I count down the hours, then the minutes, then the seconds, till exactly 10:30:00pm.  Then I wait another 45 seconds.  Then I text Emma.

S:  Hey, it's Susan.  Now still a good time?

E:  Hey.  Yeah, now's good.  Thx for chatting.  How are you?

S:  Oh, pretty good.  How are you? 

E:  Not bad.  Nervous, too.  Your pictures are so pretty.

S:  Oh, thx.  <blushing>  You too.  You look so pretty.  Strong, but so attractive and mature.

E:  Thx.  So, I guess we're supposed to see if we're interested in having the same kind of fight.  Should I go first?

S:  Yes, definitely.  What did you have in mind?

E:  Well, so, ok....I guess I'll start with two things I don't want....I don't want anything sexual....like, I don't want us rolling around on the ground, like, making out or whatevs....Like, wear jeans and a tshirt top that won't come off

E:  ....but I don't want to fight like guys, like, standing and just slugging....like, I want to fight like girls....pulling hair, if that's what just happens....fighting on the floor

S:  I get it.  So, like no face punching.

E:  Well, like not a rule.  See, I want to know what it's like to get hit in the face.  <<<<Do I?  I haven't even thought about that one.  This girl is good.>>>>  But, ok I do want a rule about kicking in the back of the head, or the face.  Like, if one of us is down.

S:  I get it.  No stomping each other.  I'm down with that one.

E:  Sorry to make this so complicated.  Now that I'm verbalizing this, you must think I'm neurotic.

S:  No, no.  Just the opposite.  You've thought about this.  I've spent too long avoiding the topic.  This is helping me.  That's good.....

S:  ......Quick question on that.  Like, being in sports, you've never, like, gotten into a fight with a competitor?  Just wondering.

E:  Ha!  Good question.  But wrong sport.  Half of diving parents are lawyers.  If you fight, you and your parents will get sued.

S:  Ah, I see.  So, let me try and summarize.....

S:....Punching and hairpulling allowed.  Jeans and tshirt.  Kicking to the upperbody, not allowed.  And no kissing-jk.  Maybe 3-minute rounds so we can adjust those as we go?

E:  Yes, rounds are good.  Oh, and you said no kissing to be funny.  But, don't like, shake my hand or anything before the fight.  Like, it's just a thing I have.  I want it to feel like we're actually fighting.

S:  Oh I get it.  Don't worry, we'll be actually fighting.  So Natalie said we can use her basement.  What day should we tell her we're trying for?

E:  My ride can get me there this time tomorrow night.  <<<<Wow!!  Tomorrow?  I like how this girl thinks.>>>>

S:  Ok, I'll tell Natalie.

E:  Ok, thx.  I guess thx is the thing to say, right.

S:  Thx works.  Or you could try something else?

E:  What might that be?

S:  I think you know.

E:  Bitch.

S:  Bitch.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

FIRST FIGHT

Emma had requested that our fight not have any sexual element to it, and it probably won't.  But I wonder what she would think if she knew that from 6pm to 8pm, before our 10:30pm fight time, I'm looking at her Facebook page and masturbating to the pictures of her in her diving bathing suit.  I feel my own D-cup breasts, and then try to look at hers, getting as much of a view as the modest suit will allow.  I try and guess her size.  I decide on 36B.  I'm pleased that her cup size appears smaller than mine.  I remember my jealousy at Julia's cup size matching mine.  No such problem with Emma.

Although still not fully satisfied, at 8pm I get into the shower and start preparing for the fight.  Jeans and a t-shirt--I hope I don't get too hot fighting in jeans.  Since we'll be having rounds, I bring a water bottle.  I put my hair in a pony tail.  I put on comfortable gym shoes.  Emma and I decided on not kicking each other when one of us is down.  But if we're both standing, will we be kicking each others' legs?  I guess we'll have to find out. 

Brittany, my ride, arrives at my place at 9:30pm.  An hour to go--time is going by faster than I hoped.  I want a drink, but need to stay readg to fight, so I resist the urge.  Brittany asks if I should bring an extra top?  Is that in case my fight top gets ripped?  Or gets blood on it?  Mine?  Emma?  Both?

I ask Brittany if she thinks I'll win the fight.  Brittany says I have a "good shot", but that personally she's hoping for "a good fight--maybe a draw."  Thanks, Brittany.  Glad this is about your amusement.  But I hold my tongue, and think back to server girl fights back home in high school.  Right before every fight, I'd want, regardless of my like or dislike of the two girls about to fight, I found myself hoping for what Brittany is hoping to see--a long, drawn out, competitive, even fight.  So I forgive her.

We get to Natalie's house.  We had straight to her finished basement--Emma isn't here yet.  The section of the floor we will fight on is old 1970s-ish linoleum--softer than concrete, but harder than carpet.  We'll be able to fight on the floor if we need to, but it won't be either of ours' first choice.  This fight will be mostly standing.

I remind Natalie we've agreed to rounds.  Not a fixed time--just that she should stop us when we're at a natural stopping point.  Natalie asks me to show her if I know how to make a fist.  I momemtarily feel self-conscious about never having been in a fight.  But I quickly remember that Emma hasn't either--that's the whole point of tonight.  This was a good idea.  I hope she shows.

When the doorbell rings, my whole body tenses.  I feel like Natalie and Brittany are trying to see if I'm fearful or nervous.  I feel like they can see right thru my nonchalance.  I wish they weren't watching.  The high school girls who used to fight with 20 people watching--how did they do that?  They always seemed so confident right before a fight.  Were they?

Emma's ride is a pretty older girl.  Is that her sister?  A diving friend?  A coach?  Should I have a fight coach?  Was my agreeing to rounds a mistake--will Emma's coach explain to her precisely how to kick my ass? 

Emma and I briefly meet eyes across the room, then look away.  Details about Emma are different than her Facebook pictures.  Her face has more makeup--why did she wear makeup to a fight?  Her brown hair has a braid down the middle.  Was that for the fight, to make it harder for me to pull her hair?  To distract me, like is happening now?

I can tell we're going to be pulling hair, and hard.  It's the only part of her body I can think about now.  I step to the center of the linoleum floor, signalling my readiness and eagerness to begin the fight.  I fell myself practically crawling out of my skin.  The three spectators take their seats and are quiet.

Emma approaches me, cautiously at first, but then all at once.  We bury our hands in each others' hair.  My pony tail comes undone in less than 5 seconds.  Shit, did I really do that bad of a job putting it up?  Or did Emma rip it out on purpose.  I'm angry at her for undoing my hair so deliberately.  I attack her braid, but it's firmly in place.  I focus my effort instead on her loose main of hair, grabbing, pulling, tearing.  Our bodies move turbulently, but still both stznding, from the force of our heads being jostled around.

"Fuck you, bitch," I involuntarily blurt.

"Screw you, Susan", replies Emma.  Well, dang it, Emma, that's a little personal, don't you think?  I thought we were both trying to benefit here, get some fight experience.  Are we sparring?  Or fighting?

"Wanna fight, bitch?", I hear myself hiss.

"Yeah, bitch, do it,  let's fight, bitch," Emma yells.  Emma releases my hair with her right hand, and unleashes a burst of punches to my mouth and jaw and cheek.  The sound is like Fourth of July mini-firecrackers which have been going off at night all week.  So, bitch, I guess we're officially gonna punch in the face, huh?  I want to speak, but am too busy trying to keep my balance.  And compsure.  I've yet to throw a punch.  Natalie must notice my hesitation, because she coaches me:

"Don't just let her do that, Susan."

Fuck, I'm getting sympathy coaching in a fight with a high schooler.  I'm suddenly relieved Julia and I didn't begin fighting in the Delaware River with 6 rafts of people watching.

I'm still afraid to release my grip from Emma's hair in order to punch her.  So I maneuver her back into the panelled wall, and lift my knee hard into her midsection.  Emma grunts, but then is immediately back to punching my face.  Fuck, 12 punches for Emma, none for Susan.  Emma pushes forward, and out of exhaustion, we fall to the floor for the first time in a stalemated knot. 

"Round 1, ladies?" offer the spectators.  I'm winded and sweaty, and Emma must be too, since we wordlessly disengage and go to our corners.

I suck down the water bottle.  Natalie approaches me.  "Susan, you need to stay busy and counterpunch.  Make her pay for hitting you--otherwise she'll win before you know it."  I'm stung.  "Shit, Natalie, no 'Go job, Susan'?  what the fuck?".  "Get mad at her, Susan, not me."  Natalie is half right.  I AM mad at Emma right now.  But now I need to show it.

I start sniping af Emma from my corner.

"Prissy hairpulling bitch, you were right one thing, you do fight like a fucking girl."

"Fuck you, Susan, kiss my ass."

" I'd rather kick your ass, cxnt."

"You wish, asshole."

Emma's partner hushes Emma with, "Save it for the ring."  What is this, WMMA?  I thought it's a fucking catfight.

I suddenly know what I need to do in Round 2.  Emma said something about not wanting to go toe to toe, trading blows "like guys".  Fine, bitch.  Do guys punch each other in their breasts?

We approach each other on the floor, fists cocked.  I need to keep Emma at bay for what I need to do.  I poke left jabs at her face, one blow landing particularly cleanly.

"Now you know what it's like to gdt punched in the face, slut," I taunt.

"Fuck you, just fight," Emma replies.

"Fine."  I unleash a left-right-left combo on Emma's right breast.  Emma is stunned, and their us an audible gasp, or, a sucking of air from the 3 spectators, surprised by what they've just seen.  I return to jabbing Emma's face--I want the world to see tomorrow that she's been in a fight.  But her mind is still on what happened 10 seconds ago--the tit punches.

"You really wanna do this, Susan?"

I mock consider for 3 seconds, then say, "Yes.  Let's.  Bitch."

Emma and I put up our fists.  We line each other up, and begin left jabs into each others' breasts.  I saw a lot in my high school fight spectating days, but this I've never seen.  How did it come to this?  This is the opposite of learning how to be in a fight.  Emma and I, who didn't even know each other existed 3 days ago, and have nothing against each other, are now punching each other in the breasts.  I can't really describe how painful each cleanly landed blow is.  It hurts.  But it just makes me want to retaliate and hurt her back.  I notice that earlier in the night we would meet eyes and quickly look away.  Now our eyes are locked in pure rage, pure hate.  Earlier today, I thought Emma and I would be friends after the fight.  Now, no way.  Never.  We're unfriending each other on Facebook, that's for damn sure.

After landing, maybe 25, 30 vicious personal punches each, we retreat to our corners, exhausted.

"Quit now if you're smart, asshole."

"You wish, bitch"

Emma's corner girl hushes her again.  I think about Emma's comment about diving parents being lawyers.  If that's Emma's sister, is she going to tell Emma's parents about tonight and sue me.

"That was better, Susan, but what the fuck, tit punching?  Making up for lost time," Natalie asks.

"How do I fucking end this, then," I ask.

"Just, like, throw her down by her hair and get on top of her.  But before you get tired.  You had her in round one--I assumed that's what you were doing."

I thought I was getting my ass kicked in round 1, but maybe Natalie is right.  The knee to the midsection was the only time so far tonight Emma seemed to lose her fighting spirit.

We charge at each other in Round 3, hands finding hair.  In a whirlwind of open hand slapping and punching, both hurting just in different ways, I again maneuver Emma to the wall.  "Watch the knee!", shouts her partner.  In defense, Emma bends her head down.  So, rather than kneeing her midsection, I knee up into her bent face.  Then uppercut her with 2 punches.  All 3 blows land.  Emma's body relaxes.  I throw her to the ground and mount her.  I pull her tshirt ober her head, revealing her bra underneath.  I go in for the ground and pound, but her corner is yelling "she gives! she gives!".  Brittany and Natalie pull me off of Emma.  I suddenly feel pain in my face, and taste iron in my mouth.  "Where's a mirror?" I ask Brittany.  She takes me to a bathroom.  Fuck, puffy spots and bruises everywhere.  When did those happen. 

Figures, the prissy bitch gives just when I was about to pay her back.  I return to the fight room to complain about the fight being stopped.  But Emma has already left.

"Well, was she....ok?  Was she fucking mad or something?"

Natalie and Brittany look at each other, then at me.

"She was saying something about the tit punches being bs."

"Well, you heard her," I protest.  " 'You really wanna do this, bitch?' Right?  Am I right?"

Natalie and Brittany look at each other, then me again.

"It's your fight, Susan.  It's what you want."

I know what I want.  "I want Brttany tough girl bitch friend Kim."

Brittany asks, "So soon?  Sure you're ready, Susan?"

"She's ready," says Natalie.

Then I'll be ready for Julia.

To be continued......

[ralbright2010]

Susan is gonna' get her ass kicked! Hope she recovers enough to face Julia! This could get really good!

[sinclairfan]

SUSAN VS KIM

The next day in the lifeguard chair, nursing my bruised but, thankfully, not scratched face, I decide that my attempt at a rules fight with Emma didn't work because, once you lay out with your opponent what you CAN'T do, the fight devolves into a "race to the bottom" to find the nastiest thing you CAN do to each other, that one tactic which the two of you neglected to prevent in your pre-fight rules.  And mid-fight rules modifications don't work; by then, the trust between the two of you is gone, and you're too emotionally invested in winning the fight.

The only way to fight another woman is to actually get into a fight with her.  And that's what my fight with Kim will be.  I've never met her, and there's not much pre-fight "scouting" I can do on the internet--this woman is totally "off the grid".  She's not on Facebook, she's not on Instagram, nothing.  Is she trying to hide from someone?  I know from Brittany that she's a biker.  Brittany has a couple of fuzzy pictures of her on her cellphone--definitely no-nonsense, pretty light brown hair down her back, tank top and jeans, ironically the same clothes I wore in my arranged fight with Emma.  But the will be the only similarity between that fight and this one--this one is for me to learn how to protect myself, how to keep my poise.  So that I have the confidence to stand up to Julia.

My fight with Emma was on the 6th of July.  The fight with Kim is arranged for the 9th.  No fights for 20 years, and now two just three days apart.  When it rains, it pours, apparently.

Brittany picks me up at my house again, this time at 8pm--I've had barely enough time to change out of my lifeguard suit.  It's just as well--no time to change my mind out of this potentially hare-brained stunt.  Brittany and I are quiet the whole car ride.

When we pull up to Natalie's house, there is a motorcycle in the driveway.  Instinctively, I know this is Kim's.  Pretty cocky to come to a fight and assume you'll be unscathed enough to drive yourself home on a bike.  I hope she's underestimating me.

We go straight down to the finished basement.  The same pre-fight tingling anticipation from high school spectating days consumes me.  Even if Kim offers me the chance to gracefully back out now, I will still choose to fight her.

She's already waiting for me in the linoleum floor area.

"Brittany told me you want to see what it's like to fight a biker chick, college bitch," Kim taunts.  Kim is about three inches shorter than me.  She's obviously had to stand up for herself her whole life.

"That's right.  Biker bitch."  I'm genuinely offended at the "college bitch" putdown.  I try to think of a "short" joke, but decide that's too dangerous territory.

"Let's get this over with, then."  We approach each other fists up.  Kim is throwing lefts and right literally faster than I can see them.  Mostly lefts--she appears to be left-handed, unless she's doing that to deceive me. 

Kim's long thick hair is too inviting a target.  I go in with both hands, mostly out of a pressing need to protect my barely-recovered-from-3-days-ago face.  If this keeps up, my supervisor at the pool will think I have an abusive boyfried.

My hairpulling is immediately effective in stopping Kim's punching.  Now she's pulling my hair as well.  Do biker chicks pull each others's hair when they fight?  We stumble across the linoleum floor.

"Fucking bitch."

"Fucking college slut."

"Cocky bitch."

We fall to the floor in a catball, tearing at each others' hair.  Fuck, Kim is strong.  My head is getting torqued into the linoleum floor.  I wrap my legs around Kim's waist, but she relentlessly bulls her way, shoving me down with her arms.  I actually wish she would resume punching me , as the relentless pressure on my shoulders, neck, and head is alternating between uncomfortable to downright painful.  I pull her hair harder, succeeding in removing entire handfuls, letting them fall to the floor, and grabbing more.

Kim is getting winded, but neither of us is willing to break our hold.  Kim is on top of me, but my leg scissors around her waist is keeping her from putting her entire weight, which in any event can't be more than 105 pounds, on me.  Although she is on top, her positional advantage on me is very slight. 

We begin to drip sweat onto each other.  Our fight pauses, still holding each other by our hair.

"Blonde slut."

"Bike trash."  Now I'm the more confident one.  Even if Kim ends up thoroughly thrasing me, I've scored a distinct moral victory.  I've withstood the initial onslaught of a supposedly badass biker chick.  Kim has lost face in the eyes of Brittany and Natalie.

So, now, I try and think of a tactic that will allow me to convert a moral victory into an actual victory. 

I have no shot in a slugfest with this chick--I couldn't even see her punches coming.  I need to keep this fight on the ground.  I gamble that I have superior cardio than Kim.  So I need to resume our actively fighting before she can catch her breath, or get her second wind.  I rapidly let go of her hair with one arm, my left, and tighten a headlock around her neck.  She's not just shorter than me--she's smaller-proportioned in every direction.  I'm able to lock in and tighten every grappling hold I get on her.  We sit up, Kim's back to me, my left arm tightly around her throat.  I press down--she's no longer verbally insulting me, so my hold must be effective.  She's getting desperate, as she's now throwing backwards elbows at me.  They hurt, but I grit my teeth and suck it up.  If I can keep this hold on, I'll choke Kim out.

"Give," she barely manages to squeak.

I release her.  My scalp and face are killing me, but I feel pure adrenaline rush.

Brittany verbalizes what I'm feeling.  "Holy shit, Susan.  You beat up Kim."

Natalie says, "2 and 0 in fights, champ.  Watch out, world."

Watch out, Julia.

To be continued.....

[CatfightBelle]

Loving this! Can't wait for the main event!

[ralbright2010]

Hope we get an update on badass Julia's summer adventures! Susan is clearly tougher than I expected!

[sinclairfan]

POST-VICTORY

Perched high up on my lifeguards chair in the hot mid-July sun, I spend the next few days basking in Natalie's words, replaying them back in my mind to myself:  2 and 0 in fights, 2 and 0 in fights, 2 and 0 in fights.  Until Natalie had said that, I hadn't really seen the whole Emma fiasco as a victory, just as an arranged fight gone awry.  But dammit, I did win my fight with Emma--her partner had clearly given on Emma's behalf just as I had started laying a beating on her.  And Kim had given just as she was about to be choked out.  Two clear victories in my first two fights.  I not only kept my fear at bay in both fights, but I had wisely adjusted tactics midcourse after early fight setbacks.  I could both take a punch and inflict punishment as required.  All without being cocky about it.  Julia had picked the wrong girl to bully.  And I would make her pay for it in 4 weeks.

Julia.  I wonder what that bitch was up to lately.  We still hadn't texted all summer.  I wonder if Ling had heard from her lately.

On July 16, Ling and I catch up for a late night text session.

S:  Hey, Ling.  How's camp?

L:  Oh, it's getting old.  Glad it's wrapping up.  How about you?  How's lifeguarding?

S:  Same.  Getting old.  This summer is too hot.  Hey, you heard from Julia.

L:  About a week ago.  She only texts when she has drama.

S:  Tell me about it.  <<<<You're just figuring this out now, Ling?>>>> What's her drama, now?

L:  Well, she wanted my advice again.  You know that girl that had the mom who was friends with Julia's mom.....

L:  ....and that at the start of summer Julia and the girl had that really bad catfight......

<<<<Oh, goodie.  'Zactly the topic I was hoping for an update on.  Good Ling.>>>>>

L:.....Well, the mom's found out that Julia and the girl had fought......

L:.....So the next day, Julia's mom was taking Julia to the other family's house, where both the other girl and the other mom were going to be there.....

<<<<<Holy shit.>>>>

L:....and Julia wasn't allowed to leave "until things were settled" between Julia and the girl....

L:....so Julia was asking me, if my mom did that to me, if I would apologize, or if I would fight the girl with our mom's watching.

S:  OMG, Ling.  So what did you tell her?

L:  Well, first I told her that I'm Asian, that my mom wouldn't even leave it up to me.....

L: ......she would either tell me to apologize, or tell me to fight, but the choice wouldn't be mine.....

L:......but then I told her since she's Caucasian, she should do which ever would please her mother.

S:  And which one would please her mother?  Apologizing, or fighting?

L:  Fighting, she said.

<<<<<Holy shit.  My mother would have a heart attack if she say me in a fight.>>>>>

S:  Ling?!?!?  So did the fight happen?!?!?

L:  I don't know.  I haven't heard from her since.

S:  But aren't you curious?!?!?

L:  I guess.  I am, but I try and not let Julia's drama distract me.

S:  Ling, like, why are we rooming with Julia, if you thing she's a drama queen.

L:  Well, her and Shao are really close.  And I'd rather hear about her drama face to face than have her texting all the time.  What's the issue between you and her anyways?? Did she try and kiss you??

S:  WTF?  Who the hell told you that???

L:  I don't know--I guess Shao just gave me the impression there was some attraction between you and Julia the weekend in Shao's dorm.

S:  There is ZERO ATTRACTION between Julia and me.  Tell Shao that, too.

L:  Ok, ok, just thought I'd ask.  Hey, not to be rude, but I have an early morning tomorrow.

S:  Ok, bookworm, lol.  Thx for the update.  Stay in touch, roomie.

L:  Same.  Good night.

****************************

I sit back and re-read the text conversation with Ling. 

For four girls about to room with each other in the fall, there isn't nearly enough communication happening.  Especially of the 1on1 variety.

And the weak link in the chain is the one between Julia and me.  Time to repair that link.  Time for us the chat.  Girltalk.

I carefully draft a text for Julia.  I read it to myself several times before hitting "send".  I finally get it just right:

S:  Hello, Julia.  It's Susan.  I thought you and I should talk; text, phone, or Skype are all fine with me--let me know when's good for you.  Did you fight that girl in front of your Moms, or did you apologize?  Dying to hear. xx

30 minutes later, I receive this.

J:  My mom leaves for work at 5:45 tomorrow morning.  Skype me at 5:50.  Don't be late or I'm hanging up.

I'm not much of an early morning person.  But I'm not missing this for the world.  Bitch.

To be continued......

[RPBella]

awesome story can't wait for more