His name was John. Same as mine. He bullied me from 5th grade to 9th grade when I changed schools. He had failed a year and was tall for his age. Total mismatch. Among the highlights were pouring a bowl of fish down my shirt outside in the winter and ( with another kid) dragging me in the shower after PE when I was already dressed in school clothes. He was a chief reason that I began working out: So I could get big, strong, and beat his ass.
Fast forward 3 years. I was a muscular 17 year old who was 5′10″ and 193 pounds(below) and I had wrestled for three straight years.
He stayed at 5′11″ and weighed 155. Total mismatch. I was at a party with my girlfriend. He showed up with his. I decided that nothing would be better than to hurt him in front of his girlfriend. He looked a little more gaunt than I was used to seeing him. I began pounding the beer and glaring at him on the other side of the bonfire. He kept looking away and would not make eye contact. I was sufficiently drunk and got more obvious in my attempts to initiate a fight. This would be infinitely more satisfying if I got him to throw the first punch. I had the fight planned in my head: Single leg takedown and slam him across the log he was sitting on. Get on top and pound his face. My girlfriend and her friend became aware of what was going on. She said “ If you start a fight with him, plan on going home alone”. Then her friend added” Yeah, you asshole he just has his appendix removed”. So that ended it. A few months later I found out that he was going in the Marines as well. He was a brother.
Fast forward 40 years. We connected on FB and he apologized with tears in his eyes. I found out that we were both serious bicyclists, health nuts, and we both hated Donald Trump. I call my bully my friend.