If you've ever met a guy who says he trains "Ultimate Fighting," then you don't even need an introduction to this article. For the rest of you, The Guys Who Train Ultimate Fighting are the dudes that are relatively new to the sport. They don't call it MMA, they call it ultimate fighting. They weren't around when Royce Gracie fought in a gi. If you show them a picture of Don Frye, they'll probably start singing "We Are the Champions." And if you say the name Kazushi Sakuraba, you'll probably get at best a blank stare and at worst a "God bless you."
In other words, it's the guys who are in it to "mix" it up and not so much for the "martial arts." They want to boost their own confidence and do it for bragging rights at the club. This type isn't limited to the role of "pretender," either. They often have experience in the cage and deserve at least recognition for it. They might even be able to use MMA as a transition into a career in television, specifically on a reality show where they get to ply their wares and drunkenly cry out "let me bang, bro!"
A stunning lack of self-awareness is its own red flag, but there are other things you can look for to identify the Guy Who Trains Ultimate Fighting.
The physical characteristic that stands out the most is the hairstyle. It'll often go above and beyond the realms of taste and style to shape their heads into something that screams out for attention, but also says "I'm tough enough to have this haircut." Not that anyone ever does anything to incite a fight over a haircut, other than maybe laugh at it.
The most common hairstyle is the fauxhawk, stylized with plenty of hair product and dyed neon green or fire engine red. If you're a fighter, be careful when grappling with them. When he sweats, the product will drip down his body. It's a form of anti-greasing, and it's just as dangerous. Try to get his back, and you'll find that you can't improve position or even move your arm. You'll just be stuck to him, and he'll have you right where he wants you. It's like a living, breathing version of one of those glue mouse traps.
The Guy Who Trains Ultimate Fighting also spends a lot of money on clothes that look awful. He'll often mirror or replicate the style of tattoo he rocks on their biceps and shoulders (more on that in a moment). He's also apt to have numerous name brands scrawled on his shirts and pants, which allows him to pretend he has sponsors. He doesn't. He just has a Paypal account. If his jeans look like a four year old girl went wild with a Bedazzler, he is not to be taken seriously.
As a general rule, I always suggest to people that they don't get a tattoo until they turn 25. I say this because I waited, and I'm glad I did. Otherwise I'd probably be covered in Donnie Darko and Pearl Jam tattoos. The Guy Who Trains Ultimate Fighting won't opt for this lesson, nor will he choose something specific. He'll have a multitude of designs that come to a point woven across his shoulders, biceps, and sometimes neck. The line work will be middling to awful. A skull, usually flaming, may also make an appearance. In essence, these dopes are walking, talking Tattoo Nightmares.
WHETHER THEY FIGHT OR "BANG"
This is important. If you aren't sure if someone you're talking to is The Guy Who Trains Ultimate Fighting, ask him whether or not he "bangs." If he says 'no homo,' then he's probably just an idiot and a homophobe. If he says "aw man AWWW MAN" and proceeds to go on for twenty-five minutes about how he'll fight anyone anywhere and that his official record is 2-3 but really he considers it to be 36-5 because of all the unsanctioned street fights he's been in, then you are talking to The Guy Who Trains Ultimate Fighting.
In that case, do what you should do in the vast majority of bad situations: simply walk away, because no good can come of it.