7. “But I was nice.”
I saw a bully from middle school in my local ShopRite. He had a lot of problems. His mom had a heart attack, and he had a car accident and suffered serious back injuries.
When I first recognized him, I exclaimed, “I remember you! You were such an assh*le to me in middle school!” We laughed, and he told me the above. He apologized for acting like he did.
He said something about this stuff happening to him because of how he treated me, but I was nice, and I denied it.
6. People really do sometimes change.
A girl and her clique bullied me quite badly when I was younger, and at the time I resented it a great deal.
10 years later she added me on Facebook out of the blue, and we actually had a really nice conversation about our lives and what we were up to these days. She somehow turned into a pretty decent person, and the unpleasant past was not mentioned once by either of us.
I have never really been good at holding grudges, and I do believe that people often grow into someone very different than who they once were. Not to make light of bullying but a lot of the time children have no idea of the damage that they do and are the victims of awful parenting (such as poor discipline) themselves. Sorry, I know you guys would prefer something more juicy than this, and I’m sure some people stay assh*les for their entire lives.
5. Dayum …
The kid that bullied me the worst (gave me swirlies, paddled me, made fun of my mom after she died of cancer) got cancer at like 28.
4. “The look of hatred on his face, as I pulled out the credit card …”
Third through sixth grade, this punk made my life hell. That fat bastard Lenny had a gang even.
Fast forward to just after college, making real money for the first time. I go to a shop to buy a high-end sound upgrade for my new car and whodya know is there. Sh*tty shirt and tie and all.
Salesman shuffles up to me and I say “Hiya, Lenny. I’m here to buy, but not from you.” I walked over to another salesman and requested his assistance instead.
I spent over twice as much as I intended to, sort of my version of both middle fingers in the air. The look of hatred on his face as I pulled out the credit card made 8-year-old me very content. Worth it!