How to Command a Room

This one trick will get you anybody’s attention.

I was at a party in HS one time. I remember my girlfriend standing next to me in the backyard, woods surrounding us. This guy wanted to fight me. I don’t even remember why anymore. Everyone wanted to see us fight, I remember that, like we were the entertainment. They were cheering and throwing cups. I was more perplexed than anything. So much aggression. And everyone felt the need to call upon “honor”. “Honor” was at stake. It made no sense to me. “Honor” — I’ve come to believe, when you’re not talking about “dignity” — “honor” really means “anger”, and satisfying “anger”. I turned to my girlfriend and asked her if that’s what she wanted, was for me to beat this dude into the ground. She said no, but something told me she was lying. There was a lust in her for animal violence which I could tell, on some level, died in her for me when I was not interested in playing monkey games. In any case, I felt no animosity toward this guy, just confusion. So I left. And everyone thought I was a bitch.

Later, it bothered her. She was more uncomfortable being in my presence around others, at school and around town. There was a town square with a gazebo and little shops on the blocks all around it. She didn’t want to go down there with me anymore. I said if that’s what you want, then find someone who will give that to you. She started fucking that guy from the party after that. I swear to try to get me to fight him. He was even mean about it. Again, that word “honor” got thrown around. I suppose I would have been more jealous if I hadn’t felt that I was better off without someone who would just up and fuck my enemy like that. But I did feel some shame at that. It was after all a public mockery.

And now, others started to step up to fuck with me. Knock my books out of my hand. Take shit from me and lie about it. I was starting to feel angry, but I still just really didn’t get why people felt the need to harass and pester me. And what was amazing was that because they felt they could get away with it, they did it. Because I was a push over, they continued. Turning the other cheek encouraged them. What they didn’t know is that I have a wrath inside of me that’s slow to burn but once it does, look out.

And that’s what happened next. It isn’t something I planned. It just sort of happened. People in my life might call it my Scorpio energy. One of the kids from the hockey team–of all groups–threw some trash out of his car onto me as I walked up to the front door of the school. People that were entering then of course saw it. I didn’t really think “I’m putting an end to this.” I simply all of a sudden got really pissed off, livid, insane–which happens from time to time–so I walked out into the parking lot to where their car was parked and as soon as the kid stepped out of the car I beat his ass. I’m talking about slamming his torso in the car door type of shit. I’m talking about punching a kid with braces type of shit. At 7:30am. Oh to be young again. His friend in the car wasn’t about to fuck with me when I glared at him too.

So I walked into the building, sunglasses on. I had curly bangs back then. Honestly I felt like a rockstar in that moment. People didn’t know yet what had happened. But they knew something. They knew I was like a wild animal. But you know how teenagers are: they don’t always pick up the signs. So lo and behold, some other dumbass came creeping up to me to try to trip me and after I stumbled, I turned on him too, threw him against a locker, and kneed him in the crotch before I punched him in the face a few times. In the moment it was a whirlwind of animal forces, like gusts of wind, taking away my reason and leaving me exposed like a werewolf or something in front of what was essentially my whole universe back then. When you’re in an entranced state like that you have no idea the whole world is watching. You only see the object of you beating.

I fucked up two people in the span of 15 minutes. I didn’t get arrested. I did get assault charges. And obviously, no one bothered me again. People respected me after that. I got my “honor” back. On a street-smart level of understanding, it made sense to me that people gave me space. But the whole social circus around giving respect or not depending upon whether you were someone to be fucked with or not was just baffling. But you know, I have often not understood the rules of social conduct in life. Like, why dump a lot of money into driving around in a really flashy car? Never made sense to me.

But it makes sense to everybody else, and that’s what matters.