I don't like losing to girls

Back two or three nights, I am at a party awkwardly not talking to anyone. Watching people become more loose, wild, inebriated as the night wears on. I smoke stolen cigarettes and pony up the courage to start a conversation.

Wanna wrastle? a man boy probes as he shoulders by.
Nah, I say, I don't wanna end bloody.
how about arm wresling, he persists.
left handed and you're on.

a spot is cleared for us at the table and we kneel, grasp hands.

He asks, are you even trying.

I continue to simply hold and hold, resisting only as much as necessary to wear him down, get in his head.

time passes, I am stalwart.

I don't like losing to girls, he grunts.

I smash his hand into the table:
then don't ask them to fight.

when people want to fight people against whom they think they have the inherent upper hand I rage inside: I wanted to chew his ear.