Drunken fights are a staple of college culture. They’re dangerous, irresponsible, and above all, they’re human. Everybody has had at least one experience in a drunken fight.

The first time I got in a fight, I was sleeping on a couch after a night of drinking. Some kid thought I looked at his johnson while he was peeing outside, so he dragged me off the couch and punched me three times in the jaw. I didn’t fight back, which is something I’ve always regretted. Since then, I have refrained from fighting, mostly because I’m a glasses-wearer. If anyone were to fight me, they could win easily by knocking them off my face. In seconds, I would be on the ground looking for my glasses like Velma from Scooby Doo. “My glasses! I can’t see without my glasses!”

On the other hand, watching drunken fights is a true spectator sport. On Halloween weekend, I witnessed a kid in a banana costume punch Super Mario in the face. I comfortably viewed this spectacle from a safe balcony. Sometimes two men just need to duke it out. Pride will get the best of us, causing us to fight one another. We fear that others may be challenging our masculinity. Our reaction to this fear is violence.

Men aren’t alone, either. One of the most diabolical fights I’ve ever seen included two girls throwing each other around a room.

Almost every fight I’ve ever witnessed was about another man/another woman. Nothing fuels rage like the thought of infidelity. Our sexuality is what drives us and when it’s threatened, we react badly. A few months ago, I ran into the kid who punched me in the face. I asked him why he did it.

“’Cause you’re a faggot,” he snarled.

As I continue my life as a successful college student, he rots away in my hometown. Even though he kicked the shit out of me, I think I still won the fight.