The Day I Hit a Girl

She’s in her mid-twenties, blonde with a very muscular body and a loud mouth. And she insisted on giving me a bad time about my pudgy gut.

“Face it, Tom.” Jenn said, “You’re jus’ an fat old man.”

“Yeah,” I responded, “But I can still take a punch to the gut with no problem.”

She reached over and poked my belly, laughing, “No you couldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?” I challenged.

Jenn smiled slyly, like she knew she’d already won the bet. I stayed quiet, letting her calculate if I were bluffing or not.

“You know I can bench press a couple hundred pounds, right?” she cautioned.

“That doesn’t scare me,” I replied, afraid my eyes were telegraphing my sudden doubt.

“Okay – here’s the deal,” Jenn offered. “I’ll punch you in the stomach once and we’ll see if you can take it. Then you can do the same to me.”

“Really?” I quizzed. “You’re serious.”

“Dead,” she shot back.

“Okay,” I answered. “But I don’t feel real comfortable about hitting a girl.”

“Yeah, old fat man,” she half-teased. “Already looking for an excuse, huh?”

I shook my head, “No. I jus’ don’t like hitting women.”

Jenn laughed. That was too much for me and I knew I had to answer her challenge as I pulled off my tee-shirt.

She lined up on me and let me have it. While it didn’t drop me or cause me to be winded or sick, Jenn’s punch was a hell of a lot harder than I had anticipated and I felt every knuckle from her fist.

It was now her turn.

She stripped off her tee-shirt, exposing a solid six-pack of stomach muscles. I let her set herself as I got ready to give her the best punch I could muster.

My fist slammed into the top ridge of muscles right under her rib-cage. I saw her eye’s bulge wildly as she gasped and dropped to the floor.

It took her a couple of minutes to regain herself.

When she did, she screeched, “What the hell, Darby — you mother-fucker! You actually hit me!”

All I could do is walk away, embarrassed and thinking, “Girls – they never fight fair.”