None of Your Business?

I’ve been thinking recently about something I was told years ago after some guy threw me through his kitchen wall. Well, let me back that thing up for a second.

As a private school educated 17-year-old, I was especially naive during my first semester at university. About midway through that first year, I started going to places I shouldn’t have gone where other college kids did the kinds of things that college kids do.

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My roommate was older and suave and eventually allowed me to tag along with the “cool” kids. One of the weekly haunts was the apartment of a guy I’ll call Bender.

Bender was an upperclassman with a cool nickname and the adoration of more than one female including a particular girl I crushed on for two straight years. (She never went for me despite my secret strategy of being too afraid to really talk to her).

One late night I found Bender alone in his kitchen basically spazzing out. He was gritting his teeth and punching himself in the face kind of like he might be getting ready to play linebacker in the big game. I remember thinking how bad one of those punches would hurt me. After all, I was weighing in at a whopping 155 pounds back then.