I got into a fight with my little brother and it changed my life. He was less than two years younger than I was, but I had always been able to dominate him-one of the benefits of being older. Whether we played hoops one on one, football or wrestled on the living room floor, I always beat him, which made him furious. I guess I was kind of a dick towards him, but it was fun. I’m that kind of guy. I remember one Saturday when mom and dad had gone to an out of town wedding, he pissed me off about something and I ended up pinning him and keeping him down for hours. He really couldn’t get up unless I let him and I eventually had him crying tears of frustration.
After high school, we went to different colleges and I didn’t see him as much. We had grown up to be fairly similar in looks and size. We both were about six feet tall, weighed about 180 lbs., and had good bodies from playing sports, running and working out. I had short brown hair and Tim’s was blond. We both always had a lot of girls sniffing around. Even though we looked to be equal, I knew I could still dominate him if I had to- once an older brother, always an older brother.
Tim spent his entire junior year abroad, so I hadn’t seen him for a long time. I had just finished college, and with no real job in sight, I was back home to lifeguard one more time and Tim was going to live at home too and wait tables. The folks were going to be gone for most of the summer at the lake house, so Tim and I were going to bach it. I hadn’t really thought about our boyhood fights for a long time, and I just assumed Tim and I would co-exist and stay out of each other’s way. Boy, was I wrong.
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