Violent but not abusive
Back in junior high, I met a guy who was in my grade but had gone to a different elementary school. For the first year, he was my arch-nemesis and we did whatever we could to "get" each other (little pranks, spreading rumors, the occasional act of minor violence like tripping each other as we're passing in the hall). Then, for reasons I can't even begin to fathom (other than that I was wearing more revealing clothes), we became the best of friends over the summer.

So now, here we are, best friends, a slightly nervous, very nerdy hypochondriac (I was "allergic" to everything back then, which he constantly disproved by sneaking things into my food and drink), and a large jock with an impressive intelligence. There was never even the slightest bit of sexual tension or attraction between us, even though we were in enough "private" situations to justify it, he's a bit of a ladies' man (to put it lightly), and I'm not completely unattractive.

Now, he had this idea in his head that I should learn to defend myself, in case I'm ever attacked by someone. So how, might you ask, did he do this? He tested my alertness by, as we were walking down the sidewalk from school, backhanding me in the face out of nowhere. I, understandably, wasn't all that happy with him, but his explanation was "you weren't paying attention!", and I couldn't stay mad at him after that. This was just the kind of friends we were.

So, we had this "hang out" place in the woods, where we chilled and built things out of scraps of wood and pushed each other into the stream running through it. One day, he found a log that must've weighed 200 pounds, maybe more. He TOSSES it at me (remember, jock), hitting me square in the chest (OW) and knocking me over. Fortunately, all I had was a few bruises and a good laugh.

The only time we actually came to blows was when he decided to drop a tree on me. There were plenty of dead trees in the woods, so he pushed one over directly at me while I was busy putting something together. I mostly got out of the way, but it clipped me in the side (he hadn't noticed a sharp bit of branch at precisely the right length up the tree to hit me) and gave me a good scratch. I ran at him, got a few good hits, and was promptly pinned, his knees on my arms. Now, I'm not a small girl, I was about 5'9" (and not done growing) and had enough muscle to (barely) keep up with him on our daily construction projects. I struggled, I fought, I bitched him out, I couldn't move. He told me to calm down, and that he wasn't going to let me up until I do. So I, after a bit, say that I'm fine, let me up. He does. I hit him again. He pins me again.

I finally calm down completely, he lets me up, we head home so I can nurse my wounds, and we get drunk (him having disproven my allergy to alcohol months previous).

We're still friends to this day. He's a police officer, working to become a narcotics officer, and he's engaged to a lovely woman that I hope he's happy with. He's still an asshole, though.

Apologies for length and girth, he's lost some weight since then.
(Morgan is a damn dirty hippie, Sun 30 Jul 2006, 19:55, Reply)