Self-confident alpha male with nothing to prove -- means I can afford to be the kind of man you'd want to have a beer with. I try to approach everything with a sense of humor, and, hey, bottom line: it's all good.
I got dealt what I call the Fight Gene: there's a class of men out there (gay and straight) who just plain old like to fight. Preferably for recreation, bragging rights, a small wager (I like loser buys the cigars), and, yeah, whatever else happens. I'm big, I'm tough, I win a lot -- and don't mind at all if I lose to the right man.
A brofight's not shutting up a jerk in the parking lot, so, since I do like it rough and real, it's hurt, yes; injure no. I'm on this thing looking for a bud, not a jerk, so I suppose my game's something like rough sub. I like to punch -- a lot, by nice guy standards -- although that's easily kept to the body. I'm probably going to be the bigger man, so it's only fair you should pick the game and set the rules. Try me. I'm open to just about anything.
Besides testosterone, adrenaline and sweat, in my book, the whole fight game's about male bonding. Some honest man-to-man time to enjoy each other, to enjoy the most male activity there is...and just to enjoy being male. After my ideal fight -- which, of course, I'll have won -- I want to help my opponent up, slap him on the back, and buy him a beer for losing like a man. For it to be perfect, he ought to use the beer-bonding time to plan how he's gonna kick my ass in the rematch.