One night, out of nowhere, with my girlfriend, I told her I would fight for her. At that time I was thinking about kicking the ass of any girl who tried to get a piece of my pie. Now, however, I see things differently.
The other day at the grocery store, Girlfriend asked, “Why don’t you ever grab the elbow macaroni instead of shells or rigatoni or egg noodles?” That kind of pasta reminds me of being poor, I told her. That’s what you got in free lunch and what we had for dinner at least 3x a week. And the conversation, other than the “Okay” she responded with, ended there. This understanding and unquestioning and listening, this is where the “worth” in “worth fighting for” comes from.
I work in the sex industry. Every one of my days is full of sex, and people who film sex, people who have sex on film. Really, really cute people who have sex with other really really cute people, on film, happily. If you haven’t guessed it yet, I’m a sexual creature. And by that I mean: I love sex and I love having it and talking about it and watching it and helping other people love it as much as I do. What happens when you’re a sexual creature put in a room with other cute, open, and flirty sexual creatures? You find and strengthen your boundaries because they matter. Because the person that’s worth fighting for matters more than sitting on the faces of cute random girls who will let you.
The fight will never be (hopefully) against some chick in a bar. The fight will be against my own fucking shit up. The fight will be loving her if she accidentally fucks shit up, and loving myself if I do. Emotional knuckles are bloodied only by the battles you wage with yourself. And in the end? Scars look better than battles lost feel. I trust her, and she trusts me. I love her, and I love fucking her, and I love that she’s the most sexually compatible partner I’ve ever had. And I’m not going to fuck that up. But not everything comes easy, and most things that come easy aren’t worth keeping. The things worth fighting for are those like the gorgeous girl I will someday call my wife. The cute girl, boy, and trans bodies that are oh so edible? I’ve got my boxing gloves on, and I’m ready for you.
What would you fight for?
Find it. And protect it.
jameson.
lovely james!
~ariel
I’ve been in a lot of fights. I most recently got into a fight with my best friend in a bar in April after drinking an ocean of various types of alcohol, and it ended with a concussion and hospital bill. When I was 17 I gave a 40-year-old lady a black eye. I randomly once boxed in a real boxing match at the legendary Blue Horizon boxing arena in Philly. I’ve fought girlfriends, and my first fight was in the woods behind a park with some ho who beat the crap out of me, then later deemed me “cool” for having the balls to fight her.
Emotional fights are far more painful, because they are slow. Real rights happen and are wild, chaotic, and unaware and are fueled by passion, fear, and a willingness to make yourself vulnerable — much like good sex. Emotional fights are lonely, relentless and often overwhelming, which is why I’d rather punch 40-year-olds in the face!!!