Aggression, my nemesis

I am guessing that many of the people who stumble upon this blog will due to its content be used to the idea of thinking of themselves in a different body. So here's one for you, imagine for a moment that you're huge, and a bloke. A Blokey bloke, that is, at home in the pub rather than the salon IYSWIM.  Probably not what you want, but go with the thought for a moment.

When I was much younger I had the interesting experience of going on a stag night with some colleagues from my workplace of the time. By coincidence we were all pretty large, I was the tallest at six foot eight but the shortest guy was about six foot three. There were nine of us.

In those slightly more innocent days before chav weekends 'ho-ing in the Czech Republic, a stag night simply meant a pub crawl. In this case, a Saturday night pub crawl round all the dodgy city-centre pubs of the UK city in which I lived at the time. 
Yes, all the ones where the fights happen, full of lagered-up young men in cheap tracksuits, and their white-stiletto-wearing Lambrinied up female counterparts.
The first and only time I ever went to most of the establishments.

A strange thing happened. When nine huge blokes turned up, the crowded pubs went quiet. Bouncers anxiously sought assurances of "No trouble lads?", space cleared for us as if by magic and a bar that had previously been three-deep was suddenly ours to order from.

It's intoxicating, the power of looking aggressive.

My night as a larger lager lout was an interesting experience, but I'm slightly ashamed of it. 
Letitng that go  to your head is dangerous. Aggression is the thing I like least about my male side, and it's relative absence is one of the blessings of my female side. I hate it when I get a "boy day" and my drive into work is aggressive, and cherish the "girl days" and the days I can think myself into girl mode for their relative calm. I now know why I have never been into clubbing, nightclubs just aren't my scene because they are to me the essence of male aggression set to music.

Still imagining you're a huge blokey bloke? Feels good to put it down, doesn't it.