My name is Meaghan. I was born in 1991. After a moderately happy childhood in the Chicago suburbs, I went to high school, and found my niche in cheerleading. I graduated in 2009, just as the economy had imploded. I saw older classmates finishing college with tens of thousands of dollars of college debt, and not being able to get good enough jobs to pay their loans back. So I turned down acceptances to three colleges and got licensed in massage therapy. I started working in a place about 20 miles due east of my hometown and have never regretted it.
I give massages to people, primarily women, with either traumatic injuries or chronic aches and pains. But as any of you who have given or received regular massages is aware, I'm also an amatuer psychologist. Once a client is a regular, we talk about their careers, their lives, their relationships. One fateful male client of mine, let's call him sinclairfan, somehow managed to turn the tables on me. He got me to open up about my life. My needs and desires. One in particular. I wanted, just once, to have a knockdown dragout fistfight with a woman my size. I wanted to go hard for at least 10 minutes, preferably far longer, although I understood that for the type of fight I wanted, 15 minutes was probably the realistic limit.
I wasn't just passively waiting for this fight to fall into my lap. I read some craigslist ads the sounded like potential leads, but then would hear news stories about people finding someone on that site and then getting murdered. I went to some dating websites as a woman seeking a woman. On our first date, I would state what I was looking for. Half of the girls walked away in a huff, and the other half were "into it", but just fun rolling-around fights. I tried it, but I wanted something more. I wanted a fight so hard that we weren't friends after. We had gone too far. I needed it. Sinclairfan said if I kept my eye out for the perfect girl, he would bring up the awkward topic with her: "will you fight Meaghan?".
