I'm a Lover, Not a Fighter

By
There are many events in my past that I am proud to tell the tale of today. One that stands out in my mind greatly took place a mere 4 months ago. My good friend, I’ll call him Patches, gets into a wee bit of trouble now and again. This time, he had an altercation with some guys from another town. This altercation started over Patches’ girlfriend. Personally, I think girls are the last reason to start a fight, but the start of this was not my choice. Being that I thought this fight was not justifiable, I tried to talk my friend Patches out of it, but he was dead set on fighting this kid.
So I was with Patches at the bowling alley, just hanging out, trying to forget about the everyday stresses. He then received a call on his mobile device from a private caller telling him to come outside. So I walked out with him and there was a group of guys who wanted to fight Patches. It just so happened that our friends rolled up to the bowling alley right in time. So now it was about even quantity wise.
The guy who called Patches turned out to be 18 years old, a high school graduate. He kept getting in our face and trying to go after Patches, and everyone who we were there with was just letting it happen. They were going to let our good friend get his face beaten in by a guy 4 years older than him. Although I’m not the best fighter out there, I was not going to watch my best friend get hospitalized. I thought to myself “I, the son of George Morgan, cannot let this terrible instance occur.” With this thought, I stepped in between the aggressor and my best friend. The 18 year old started to make fun of me and push me when I was just trying to break it up.
Before I knew it, my friends were taking my backpack off my back and holding my phone and valuables for me. The kid was screaming in my face and I wasn’t going to be the one to get his jaw broken, so I couldn’t let him hit me. Yet, I didn’t want to start a fight that didn’t need to be started. Then I saw him wind up to hit me, and just by instinct, I head-butted him in the face. This stunned him enough to hold back and it gave me the upper hand. It allowed me to control the tone of the fight. I was able to do the right thing and get him to leave Patches alone. He left with all his friends, and Patches stopped trying to fight with them.
Normally, I am a lover, not a fighter. But sometimes, fighting is justified by love. I love my best friend; I would do anything for him. The last thing I wanted to do was watch him get hurt, so I had to intervene. Yes, I did cross my morals a tad bit, but as strange as it is, I don’t regret my actions, because I know what could have happened if I didn’t stand up for Patches.





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