BULLY

Before I was rudely interrupted (I know, eight months ago), I was bitching and moaning about the weirdness of Facebook. I would only be joking a little bit to say that instead of blogging I’ve been playing Scramble and looking at photos of people I haven’t seen in 20 years. And freaking out. Have I gotten as old as my friends? I wonder. Do people look at me and think, “what the hell happened to that guy?” Catching up via photo saddens me a bit, as I am no longer allowed to remember people the way I want to remember them. Peeking at the reality of age and time of those from the past can be a real emotional punch in the stomach. When it’s addressed toward me, the line I usually get is thus. “Wow, you look exactly the same, except without hair.” Could be worse, I guess.

Facebook also can function as an unwanted reminder of bad memories long forgotten. The site serves as a clubhouse for every corner of your life – and sometimes the bad shit turns up. Which brings up all the horrible details, which then makes me realize that I haven’t fundamentally changed after all these years. Why would I reach out to someone who made my life miserable – I say this with apologies to all those I behaved badly toward yet reached out via Facebook.

Recently, I received a friend request from a bully. This was a person who was like a rabid wolf whose eyes widened and mouth foamed whenever we made eye contact in the hallways of junior high and high school (Sepulveds Jr. High and Monroe High, for those of you keeping score at home), a guy who went out of his way to make my life miserable.

It wasn’t as if I were an obvious target. I sort of blended in with both the sci-fi/D&D/Monty Pythoners and the Aerosmith-loving, macramé shoe-wearing stoners. So I was covered. I didn’t have to worry about getting rolled across the 9^th grade lawn in a trash can.

Politics were a part of it, but, let’s face it, it’s every kid for his or herself, so you do what you can to stay on the down-low. But this guy, I don’t get it. I can’t recall any moment that triggered him; it just started – lowering a shoulder into my chest as we crossed paths between classes; pushing me in the back as I went up for layups during basketball games; throwing spitballs and other assorted shit during homeroom.

I understand that sort of behavior is basically adolescent power tripping, and, even then, I kinda figured that out, since both he and I knew I had no chance in a fight. It’s just, I suppose, that animals smell blood. He and I both knew I was his bitch. Rules of the jungle.

So this is my memory. There are no good ones – we didn’t drink Bacardi and Cokes at Stoney Point, didn’t get high at Van Halen. We had a few of the same friends, but I can’t recall any civil interaction.

Remember, this is like 30 years ago. But last week, I got a Facebook "friend" request from this guy. And then it all came rushing back. Not good. Then I thought, what the fuck does this guy want with me? For a moment, I freaked. I asked my officemates how they would handle it. Someone suggested he wanted to make amends, but I looked at the thumbnail of his picture, noticed where he resided, and thought, you know what, that can’t be. Instead of hitting “accept,” I clicked “ignore” and “block.” It felt really good.

Damn, I thought high school had ended. But, clearly, high school never ends.