I was punched in the face – twice – in a dream last night.
Both times, I argued that I had been sucker-punched, but in both cases, my combatants disagreed. They claimed that since we were already arguing and clearly facing each other, the punch would not qualify as a sucker punch. They claimed that a sucker punch only occurs when you trick someone into looking away and then hit them (like Marty McFly does to Biff in “Back to the Future”), or you tap them on the shoulder and then clobber them as they turn around.
This, of course, is nonsense. As someone who has been punched in the face and has punched people in the face countless times throughout my life (though not in more than 25 years), I know a little bit about the etiquette of fists colliding with faces.
I rightfully argued that if you punch someone without any warning that the disagreement is escalating to fisticuffs, it would qualify as a sucker punch. Anytime you punch someone without warning that physical violence is imminent, it’s a sucker punch. You can either verbally declare the onset of hostilities or simply raise your fists to indicate that violence is about to commence.
When I was young, we’d raise one fist to indicate our intent or use verbal declarations like, “You want to go?” or “Meet me at the gates.”
I was also sucker-punched on more than one occasion, and I admittedly sucker-punched at least two people in my time when the element of surprise was required to stop someone from making a terrible choice.
I’m not proud of those moments, but sometimes extreme situations require extreme measures.
I’m always surprised to discover that few people I know have ever been in a fistfight or a physical confrontation of any kind. I’m not sure if this is a function of where I grew up, the types of people in my previous sphere of influence, or my willingness to stand my ground and fight when threatened.
Perhaps a combination of the three.
I also genuinely liked fighting when I was young. I didn’t necessarily enjoy hurting people, but I was always able to take a punch, which allowed me to do well in most physical confrontations. And as stupid as it may sound, I liked the confidence that came from knowing I could handle myself in a fight, and I enjoyed the reputation for being good at something, even if it was something as stupid and dangerous as fighting.
Happily, these days, I only fight in my dreams, and even then, there is apparently a lot less actual fighting and a lot more arguing over the definition of fighting.
