August 01, 2003 @ 10:47 p.m.
FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

I'm feeling a lot sunnier today than I was when I wrote yesterday's entry. Which isn't particularly hard, I suppose, but still: it's a good thing. It probably has a lot to do with last night. I caught up with Leah and we had yummy Japanese for dinner (food, not people), and went to see Sex:Female, which is excellent. They played Megan Spencer's new documentary as well (I didn't even know she made films). I don't remember what it was called, but it was about the fine work of Mistress Ursula, who's long been a personal hero of mine.

Anyway, I happened to be looking through my archives and I realised I've never shared with you all the story of my first (and thus far, only) catfight. It happened in high school (natch) and it was over a boy (double natch).

The year is 1997. I am fourteen years old and in Grade Nine at Buttfuck High School, Buttfuck. I'm very good friends with a boy we'll call...uh...Dave. Yes. That will do. So Dave and I are really good friends, but that's as far as it goes. Neither of us have even hinted that we were interested (little did I know...), and he had a girlfriend besides.

One day Dave breaks up with his girlfriend, who we'll call Sam because that was her name and I have no intention of protecting the skanky. Weeks go by, and Sam (who was in my class) often mutters darkly within my hearing about "that big-tit slut" who stole her boyfriend (because as we all know, boyfriends are possessions much like furniture and have no free will of their own). I laugh it off, not knowing until a month after the dumping that Dave had, in fact, dumped Sam in order to ask me out. He'd spent an entire month working up the courage to do it (it must be noted that at this point in time, I had dyed black hair and a tendency toward "interesting" makeup and jewellry, was prone to wearing combat boots and also to muttering darkly about conspiracy theories, government coverups and Nine Inch Nails. It's no wonder the poor boy had to work up the nerve). If you can cast your mind back to highschool (or as you'll know if you're still in highschool), a month in real time is equivalent to about five years in highschool, thanks to the way that particular world moves. By that definition of time, he'd waited absolutely forever between dumping her and doing the whole slick "I have to talk to you really urgently!" and dragging-me-away-to-a-secluded-place routine at a party we were both at.

Anyway, so Dave finally gets around to asking me out that whole month later, and I agree. He actually cheers, and much frottage is had (let me point out that the only privacy we had right at that moment was a tent, in a paddock, surrounded by a large group of our mutual friends).

That was Saturday. The Friends of Friends of Friends highschool grapevine network does its thing, so by Monday, Sam well and truly knows that her worst suspicions have finally been confirmed.

She and her equally skanky best friend come stalking up to me and my friends at recess.

"So, you're going out with Dave now," a forced, angry statement rather than a question.
"Yup."
"He's frigid, you know."
At this, I meet her eyes for a long moment and give her a slow, smug and self-satisfied grin.
"Not with me, he isn't."

She goesto throw a punch at my face, but I block her. She strikes out again and manages to grab a small handful of my hair, and I calmly remove her hand and finally stand up from the bench I've been sitting on the whole time. I grab a large handful of her hair and hold her at arms length. She tries to scratch my face, but I'm a lot taller than her and have the advantage of longer arms, so her nails miss their target and her chubby arms flail comically. I slowly tighten my grip on her hair until she starts screaming, then force her chin up so that she is looking in my face, and quietly sneer "listen, you fat, snotty little cow, if you come near me or Dave again, I will beat the living shit out of you. I will tell Dave to tell everyone he knows all the sad little stories he collected about you when you were together. You'll never have a boyfriend in this town again, not that you really deserve one anyway. And, just so you're aware, because I know you didn't actually get to find out when you were with him, Dave is an amazing fuck."

I let her go, and she and her friend slink away. My friends cheer and high-five me. I smile to myself triumphantly.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you do not fuck with Reverend Denial.

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