Adding wedgies into the conversation.
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I was part of my country’s national karate team for a short while. Point-fighting karate team, even if less tappy-tappy than what is done in the US, still point-fighting karate. You are not supposed to hit hard enough to produce blood or visible bruising, which means instant disqualification. So a lot of people just aimed at air and never did face contact, which I found pretty dumb since distance was then all messed up and people were constantly doing stupid things because they did not have to be afraid to be hit hard in the face.
Since I was already doing harder contact sparring on the side with kickboxing and kung fu people, I decided to be a dick about it and began to hit faces with haishu-uchi, which is basically a backhand slap. This was less likely to produce blood or bruising but was harder and brisker than a normal slap, and quicker than a normal backfist, I found. Which meant I hit people A LOT, because they realized they had lousy head defense, and, again, I was a dick.
This particularly began after some tough-guy tried to hurt me on purpose after I had face-kicked his brother and came at me full force meaning to face-punch me hard but because he sucked compared to the kickboxing and kungfu people who regularlly kicked my ass, I just sidestepped and haishu-uchi-ed his face hard, which meant a loud slapping noise. He tried it again twice, and I backhand-slapped him twice again, and harder, too, which ended up with him screaming and swearing that he would kill me and he had to be thrown out of practice.
I quit the team not long after that because it just affirmed my belief that point-karate was for pussies and I was never cut out to be a competition athlete anyway. (I participated only in one big-scale pan-american championship and I basically sucked, ranking fourth in my bracket at best).
But that backhand slapping was very satisfying.
And yeah, it was all about humiliation and it worked great.
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So I guess the real message is of this thread is that we are all vulnerable to pimps?
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Yes. Pimps and well… also… women…
What inspired this thread is… thinking about my ex-girlfriend. She was an alcoholic dancer from Miami with a number of issues. Her life before me was kind of tough. But, my friends had been encouraging me (since I was an older guy who was still single) to, “lower your standards and give someone a chance.”
They should have been more specific. They probably meant to date someone, “fluffy,” but I thought I’d go ahead and open up to someone kind of messed up that maybe just needed another chance in life. I had stopped going to church and become Agnostic. My parents had both passed away. What the hell? I took a chance on someone.
We went through hell together. Tried to detox at my place but she got the DTs. Felt spiders crawling under her skin and her scalp. Tactile hallucinations. Detox from alcohol is just about as bad as heroin. You can have a heart attack and die. She had to detox in the hospital two separate times. Carried her up the stairs. Dealt with screaming fits of rage. Woke up convulsing. She fell off the wagon a few times but got sober for a year.
I don’t regret it. We had a really sweet relationship in a lot of ways. I lived with her for two years (moving her up to Indianapolis). We really loved each other. She got sober for about a year. I stuck by her after I left and helped her adjust when I moved out. I paid rent until our lease was up and helped her renew her lease and get her life in order. We stayed friends for a while but kept fighting. Finally, after she smuggled alcohol into Walmart (unbeknownst to me) when I came back in town and took her to get groceries one night (even spilling it on me while I was driving) and we got in a big fight, we broke off contact for good. It’s been about six years now. I saw online that she had a baby but I don’t stalk her. We’ve both moved on with our lives.
I grew up a church kid and my dad was in local politics. This was not my lifestyle. I had been working on the road as a furniture installer and I had been to strip clubs but I still had barely even dated anyone. This was quite a departure for me and it was a pretty crazy adventure. I don’t regret trying to make a life with her and I’ll love her 'til the day I die.
But, I digress.
She was violent. She’d get drunk and slap me and punch me and pull my hair. I had long hair. She’d come at me with forks and large kitchen knives. She tossed blunt objects. Tossed dishes. She put her back to the door and stomped on me in traffic. She was a lunatic.
I tried to break up with her several times. Once, I tossed her straight out the front door. But, I always felt bad for her and saw good in her and, I mean, we lived together. It’s infinitely more difficult to break up when you live together. Especially when you moved someone up from another state to live together. I had vowed to myself to help this person and to be patient with her issues. I gave her a lot more chances than I’d have given anyone else. I tried to make it work.
Our lives improved a lot when she got sober. She still had fits of rage but she was seeing a counselor, going to AA meetings and trying. Then she fell off the wagon and just stopped trying and we had a big fight so I moved out in the middle of the night and hit the road again for work. I moved to an apartment in another city. But, like I said, I tried to work things out and tried to be a friend and coached her through the transition to living on her own. She was safe when I left her.
But, right. The violence.
She was smaller than me and a woman but she was an athletic dancer in her late twenties. She wasn’t just a complete pushover. She probably could have beaten some dudes in a fight or at least managed to stab them. Of course, I’ve been a martial artist my whole life so she was no kind of problem. It was like wrestling with a small child or something.
I mostly just took her down and restrained her until she calmed down. Disarms were not an issue. I took kitchen knives out of her hands using trusty old techniques. Even when she’d attack me while I was driving it was no big deal.
If our genders were swapped, I’d have left or called the cops. But, I was the dude so I just took it. I mean, she could have killed me in my sleep or something but I never felt like I couldn’t handle her. The yelling was the worst part. Reminded me of my mom. Smh
What surprised me though… were the slaps. Not hers. Mine. A few times, she caught me by surprise in the middle of the night and slapped me pretty good. And, I slapped her right back out of sheer instinct. I never thought I would ever slap a woman.
It’s not like it was a conscious decision. She slapped me and I returned the favor instantly – a reflex action. I managed to pull the power out of it. I never hit her hard like she hit me (with the heel of her palm at full blast). But, I slapped her. And, that was tough for me to accept.
Having trained in martial arts my whole life, I thought I was in complete control of my reactions. But, this was a blind spot. I never trained to get slapped, really. You don’t slap each other when you box or spar. I hadn’t been slapped since horsing around as a kid. Slap boxing is something kids used to do as a game.
It suprised me that I could just react that way. A purely physical and primal response. Without thinking. Just out of nowhere. You slap me and I slap you. Slap. Smh
The last person I ever wanted to slap.
I was ashamed. I was disappointed in myself.
I think it’s something I overlooked in my training and probably most people overlook it. I mean, I’ve restrained people for work. I’ve been punched in the face. I’ve stopped myself from hitting people. I have good reflexes. I can control myself. Maybe it was the domestic setting or the lack of sleep. But, I felt like a dope.
She was fine. I never hurt her. Still.
She made me do something I never thought I would do. She started changing who I was… and that’s why I left. I was wearing down and getting careless so I left.
The night I left she had pulled my hair, slapped and punched and kicked me and come at me with a kitchen knife. Then she was standing in the bedroom doorway and I thought she was fine. Up out of nowhere with no telegraph or warning, she slapped me hard with the heel of her hand and I slapped her back instantly. One slap. That slap (mine) was the reason I left her. I couldn’t be in that relationship anymore. I left. I moved out.
We kept trying to figure things out but I never moved back. We parted ways. It’s been six years since I’ve seen or spoken to her.
I just think… you’ve got to be ready for slaps.
And, maybe it’s something people can exploit in MMA somehow. I don’t know. Maybe dudes just aren’t ready for slaps out there. Maybe it’d catch them by surprise. It’s something to think about.
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Here in SA the slap is respected, we call it the poes klap, and you don’t want a farmer giving you one up side the head …
How does that translate literally?
I guess cunt slap, doesn’t translate as well.
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Nick and Nate Diez have the Stockton Slap. Hmh.
You can’t deny his greatness.
I am his biggest fan.
They say that legends never die.
Therefore, long live Yip Man!!
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I still need to see the fourth film