There I was sitting in my office looking at status updates
and memes and all kinds of fun stuff, when all of a sudden a familiar name and
face popped up. It was by totally chance
that he was “tagged” in a group of people at an automotive event that I was looking
at. I was stunned at first, but there
was no denying it. Nearly thirty years
have passed since I interacted with this guy, but still, through the years, the
face, the eyes, his carriage were displayed in a current version weathered and
fattened by three passing decades. My
pointer hung over the “Friend” button and seemed to be waiting instruction from
me. I considered it, but instead
considered the complications of a possible interaction.
This character, while I won’t go into details, really abused
a position of authority, and when it suited him, stabbed me squarely in the
spine. His manipulation of me was in no
way physical or sexual, but was abusive none the less. In the first year or two that passed, I admit
I had vengeful fantasies, but the current of my life soon washed those feelings
away, my anger and the memory with it. It’s
not like I would have handed the guy a solid smack-down, but I did want to let
him know just what a piece of shit he was.
When the incident happened, I was not in a position to be able to do so
without further repercussions, and so held my tongue. It’s probably just that more than anything. Few
things cause me more stress than not being able to serve up someone a nice hot dish
of “go-f^%$-yourself” when I really
need to. In reality his behavior did me
a tremendous service. I grew up a little. I realized that people might possibly not be
who they pretended to be. I learned that
people will lie from the highest podium, pulpit, rostrum or lecturn without
fear or concern. I didn’t know it at the
time. I was just a kid who was already
having trouble reconciling the actions of others and was desperately looking
for a role model. I needed reinforcement,
not betrayal. Even those folks in
authority over this guy were ready and willing to look the other way. I quietly took the pain, endured the stress,
shouldered the load so to speak and moved on.
So there I was, sitting at my desk, the mouse still hanging
over the friend button. He looked old
and broken. I felt a bit glad about
it. It was evident, at least by his Facebook
page, that his life had not turned out like he had hoped, and I dared to sip a
little juice from the red solo cup of justice.
For a few minutes, I considered contacting him at his home or place of
work, (turns out he lives and works
within easy driving distance from me) just to slam my fists into this desk and
tell him what his actions had cost me, in humiliation, confusion and straight
out money. I wanted him to own a taste
or even just experience a small measure of the pain he had caused me.
Facebook can be a great portal for traveling back in
time. In his pictures, I could see so
very easily see the arrogance of a man who once seemed to have it all. In his
eyes I could see the emptiness that one earns by possibly making a lifetime
career out of treating others as he had treated me. He was, and is, a fabrication of bravado and
ego, and I suddenly realized that he held no power over me. The footing, on which we now both stand, is
no longer stacked in his favor. It
really wasn’t all those years ago either, but I just didn’t know it then.
That which I had wanted to pound out with my fists, years
ago, time had done for me instead. I'm sure
he’s forgotten me. Our interaction was
just selfish entertainment for him, of that I'm sure. Whatever value he placed on his own fortune
of self importance has long been squandered.
It has cost him far more than it did me.
Far more…and I'm ok with it. Now,
If I were to pass him on the street, and happened to notice out of the corner
of my eye that he was on fire, I would have to stop and think for a minute to
decide if I felt like pissing in his direction…at least that’s what I'm saying
here so I can look all tough, like I don’t care…but…of course it isn’t true. If we were to meet on the street I hope he
would not hesitate to apologize, which is really all it takes with me to
restore that initial level of trust that new friendships openly enjoy, but to
be honest… I doubt it.I cannot think of a good reason to make contact, save the small nagging feeling in the back of my skull that someone “got one over” on me. It’s my own pride talking. It’s been kicked and beaten and bruised so many damn times that I’m honestly amazed it’s still working at all. Based on my journey through time on the Facebook Express, I have been able to put that little episode to bed and return to the present unharmed. He was a “noisy gong” of a man. Sadly, it appears that he stuck to an ancient, archaic and really immoral code of ethics and conduct. There is no room in my life for that.
No comments:
Post a Comment