I was big man and a lot of it was muscle. Some of the bigness just came naturally but the muscle came from hard work. As I was growing I discovered that the trouble with being a big person was that you were the natural target for anyone who wanted to make a name. I got into a number of fights, some of which I won and some of which I didn't. Being a rather peaceful chap I sought advice from my father as to what I should do. His advice was counterintuitive.
"Learn martial arts," he told me.
"Dad, I want to avoid fights. Not have them," I pointed out.
"Then learn martial arts. If you're good at it you can stop someone who want to beat on you a lot more easily and with a lot less damage than if you're untrained. On top of that if you fight in a few tournaments the word will get out and the idiots will steer clear."
So that's what I did. One thing I learnt was that a good big man will generally defeat a smaller man with the same skill. Size does count. Another thing was that a smaller but more highly skilled man could still kick my butt. Skill also counts.
The meaningless schoolboy fights came to an abrupt halt when I demonstrated how easily I could defeat Charlie, a hulking brute of a boy who loved to get into fights. I just danced around him, putting him on his back every time he took a swing at me. I totally humiliated him, seeing I was laughing the whole time. Physically he wasn't hurt but his pride sure took a beating.
I was now in my early thirties and still doing the training. I was actually good enough to act as an assistant sensei for the junior grades.
I wasn't what could be considered God's gift to women. If I had to stand in that queue I'd be way up at the tail end. Looks wise I had a closer resemblance to a gorilla that to a lothario. For all that I had had my successes with the ladies and never seemed to be short of a girlfriend. I hadn't yet met one who made me think of settling down but time would tell.
Recent event left me wondering. Where women were concerned, was I a successful hunter or the unsuspecting prey?
Enter Denise. She was a pretty little thing. Only a little over five feet in height and slender with it. Dress her in a fairy outfit and all the kids would be yelling, "We believe in fairies." She was around twenty five, married and lived a few door up from me. I would see her occasionally, in the street, in her yard, or at the mall. Being polite, and because she was a pretty little thing, I'd always say hullo and get a nod or hullo in return.
Now it seemed I was seeing her every day and instead of just saying hullo she'd stop and chat. Only about inconsequential but every time she'd stop and talk.
After a while it seemed to me that her clothes were different. Tighter, maybe? Certainly showing more cleavage than she used to. That cleavage was interesting in its own way. I spotted her while I was walking through the mall and I was prepared to swear that she was showing no cleavage, yet when we eventually met, lo and behold, some very nice cleavage.
I started finding double meanings in the things she was saying. Was she flirting with me? It appeared that the answer to that was yes, and it was quite a surprise to me. Just how far did she mean her flirting to go?
