Not on my side, definitely on his.
I’ve even heard him slagging off singers and writers who ‘dared’ to be more successful than their older siblings in similar fields.
The fact that our lives are completely different and there’s virtually no overlap for comparison hasn’t changed his attitude at all.
I didn’t get it when we were kids, I don’t get it now.
We haven’t spoken in years. I don’t miss him.
I don’t get along with my older sister. Never really have. There have been times I have tried, but it always comes down that I just don’t like her. I associate with her on family occasions because I have too. If she was any other person, I wouldn’t give her the time of day.
My younger sister and I have our times when we don’t get along though they are few and far between.
My older brother and I never really did the sibling rivalry thing. We both had strengths in different areas so we were rarely in direct competition.
I am the oldest but my brother 3 years younger than I am have never gotten along. He was big for his age and we looked like twins growing up. We physically fought CONSTANTLY as in most every second we had open access to each other. Our aunt and uncle bought us a trampoline so we could fight in a controlled area but we just kicked and punched and then threw each other off of the side of it. I got a job when I was 15 and bought a nice, new small pickup truck right after I turned 16. My mother asked me if I would take my brother places. The family situation was pretty terrible at the time with my parent’s divorce and no one had direct control over me at all. The answer was, oh God, hell no. My mother begged and I gave in just a little.
My brother Jeremy could ride in the bed of the truck if he needed to get somewhere like school that badly. My reasoning was that if that type of ride was good enough for illegal Mexicans, it should be more than fine for him. He was absolutely never allowed in the cab no matter what the conditions. If it rained he would just bum a ride from someone else. I cherished the moment when we pulled into the school parking lot and the other students got to see him hop out of the back.
After I went to college, I came home to find that he had sold most of my possessions. I made a fake phone call to the Sheriff’s Department asking for them to file charges and come pick him up. I loudly agreed to cooperate on any felonies that may have become necessary. He flipped out and, with tears running down his face and a shake in his hands, he threw me down on the kitchen floor and held a butcher knife to my neck. This was no joke. He was obviously out of his mind at that point and his trembling hands caused the large knife to begin cutting into my neck. It just so happened that my stepbrother walked into the door right then and it was camouflaged of because of all the commotion. I saw him sneak up and yank my little brother onto the floor with knife in hand. That just might have saved my life.
He has a nice family with two little boys, a good job, and a nice house which is better than most people predicted before he went into the Marine Corps but we certainly don’t get along. On the rare occasions when we are around each other I find myself thinking about the best defenses in cases like if he suddenly jumped over the dinner table or tried to attack me by forcing the bathroom door open to take advantage of a weak position. To be fair, my mind churns with those offensive strategies as well. We are in our 30’s.