I fought a lot with my older brother growing up. Or rather, he would hit me if he found out I had been in his room, or even worse, worn one of his sweaters to school. In the eighties, oversized sweaters were all the rage, so naturally, I had tapped into the supply in his closet on the sly. His sweaters were preppy and expensive, since he was working part-time and buying his own clothes. I particulary enjoyed the navy knit Lacoste, and the grey Bjorn Borg, both V-necks of course. I would pair them with parachute pants, or, as they were called in Swedish, balloon pants, and voila...ready to go!
The cause of beatings...
We went to different high schools so it sort of worked out. I would wait for him to leave for school, grab a sweater, then head to my high school and look really cool. Then I'd hurry home and put the sweater back. The fights would happen if one of his sweaters smelled like my perfume, which at the time was the very pungent YSL Paris. Needless to say, it was a frequent occurance. I would cry for help from my mother who rightfully pointed out that I could just stop wearing his sweaters...
But other than the sibling stuff, I suppose there is a "fight" that stands out. I was in junior high and had this really cool and cute boyfriend, Per. He was half-Korean, great at writing love letters, and well endowed. It's funny the things you remember twenty six years later. We never actually consummated our relationship, but this was around the time, age wise, that you start to get to the point when kissing isn't enough, but you've got nothing else in your "tool belt." So you kiss and kiss and find different positions to kiss in. And in most of them, private parts are pressed up against each other. So I got a sense of what was in his pants, so to speak.
Some of Per's love letters from the mid-eighties
We were in the same grade but in different sections, so we didn't have any classes together but would see each other at lunch, on afternoon breaks, and after school. We'd go to his house since his Mom worked late most of the time, and he had no siblings. This meant his house was a bit more chill than mine, which always seemed full of siblings and drama. We would kiss and kiss for hours.
There was a girl at school who liked Per. She was in his section, so she got to spend all day, every day with him, which of course I didn't like at all. They also shared the same last name which was sort of cute, some people thought. I was not in that group. This was a time when my life was ruled by the need to be cool and popular, so in regards to romance and boyfriends, I was radically different from who I am today. I know today that you can't own or control people, or make them love you, but then, not so much.
So back to Jessica and the time when my life was driven by insecurity, jealousy, and pettiness. When I used my powers to do more evil than good. Even though Per was my boyfriend, and all my friends told me I was prettier, I naturally hated her, and made her life difficult whenever I could. Probably because deep down I was afraid to lose him. It was mostly cold stares in the hallways, or rude comments and loud laughs with friends, when she walked by. It's weird because I see myself as such a small and harmless person, and have never really considered myself a bully, but I think at this time I was.
One day after school, I saw her riding her bike towards where I was walking, and decided to do something. I wasn't quite sure what, but as she got closer, I could feel my blood boiling with rage. My mind was providing me with justifications and fuel to hurt her in some way; "who does she think she is, riding her bike here?" and "look at her and that stupid grin."
As she rode by me, I pushed her bike, and whatever she had in back fell off, and she sort of did too. She didn't get seriously injured, but she had to get her bike back up, and gather her stuff before getting back on and riding off. At which point I might have yelled at her to stay away from my boyfriend and/or that she was a whore. Yeah. Pretty sure I did.
I'm not sure this constitutes as a legitimate fight, but it feels like it's in that category. I picked a fight with someone for a pretty lame reason, using mean and immature behavior to make them feel shitty at school, and then pushed them off their bike when they rode by me. Now that I'm thinking about this, imagining being in her shoes, I'm filled with regret, embarrassment and sadness.
I decide to see if she's still around, to maybe check in and apologize. I go on Facebook and a couple of clicks later, there she is. Two mutual friends. I'm immediately intimidated by her profile photo which has her looking quite powerful on a big motorcyle. I'll think about it.