(7) Lesson 3: Friendship Request

Let me understand.
We've not met, we've not talked, we've not received news about each other for the last 15 years. Thanks God I removed you from my memory, when I think back at my school days, my buddies, all those Saturday afternoons on the basket court, you are not there. I cut you off of my life.
And now, you send me a "Friendship Request".

«Ehi, there, how you doin'? Is that really you? It's been such a long time! Do you remember me?»

Let's see.
I spent my five high-school years trying to avoid you. Before any class text I tried to change seats with somebody else, not to have you around so I could concentrate on my work. On half-morning breaks I hoped we were in the same soccer team so that, even if I knew I could not avoid you kicking me no matter what, at least I had a chance to contain the damage - with you on the opposite team, I would have ended up with a broken ankle every time. On school trips I learnt to sleep with one eye open, and with a spray can and a lighter under the sheets, just in case you thought about paying me a night visit (by the way, you did try, is that burn scar still there? I payed that with a lot of pain, but God, was it worth it...).

And now you ask me if I remember?
Fuck, I do remember.
At least - now I do. Up to five minutes ago, I had managed to forget you.

We are often surrounded by people we can't stand. But we tolerate them. People we know, people we work with, even relatives - people who, in an inhibition-free world, we would attack with a baseball bat, we would kick on the ground even when they pass away, we would drive over - ahead and reverse. Still we tolerate them. A fake smile, and then we steer away. We talk about them with our friends, somebody does with a shrink too. And why? 'Cause spelling it out loud and clear is not included in our behavioural set of skills, which is suffucating our genetic program. It ain't right. You'll get in trouble. Like, we can avoid that kind of trouble just by keeping our mouth shut.

So, I remember.

I remember how a huge asshole you were, and you still are, no doubt about it, notwithstanding that fatty looks and those serial killer-like glasses eyeing me from your Facebook image. I forgot about you along the years, but I was convinced that such a stupid bully would have ended up being involved in some real trouble - since all bullies find a bigger bully in the end. Worse, I thought you did end up as a junkie, or in jail, or both. What the hell, maybe you were dead - an ugly death, I hoped.

No. You pop up on facebook and send me a "Friendship Request". And you probably think I will accept it, "for old times' sake", even if I still carry at least one scar from those old times, here on my shoulder. Ah! The good old times. I mean, those back during the dictatorship, when life was impossible but at least assholes could be hung from a tree.

I don't know who you are now, or what to do. I fear, since life ain't just, that you already digged your own space into our society, from which you suck from it what keeps you alive. Since bullies are bound for success nowadays, they are cheered about, there is even a videogame about that. I fear that you found a woman, someone so stupid that she didn't understand what a jerk you were (since being a jerk is genetic, you know) - or more probably she didn't understand it until it was too late, after you had already started beating her like a gong, or chasing here with a piece of rope full of knots. I even fear she allowed you to breed, polluting this planet with your genes (still, since being a jerk is genetic), and producing a small copy of yourself, to bully around the forthcoming generations. Sincerely, I don't give a shit.

To me you have been the first on a long list, made of workmates, casual aquaintances, former friends, ex-girlfriends, and such mobsters. Thanks to you I learnt to react, and not to surrender. Thanks to you, I grew past all the assholes I met along my life, with a smile and no damage taken. But don't you dare to think I owe you anything: I already payed for that.

So the Third Lesson is all here: react. Don't accept passively anymore. Burn in hell, you bastard. No, better: put my name on your last will. I don't care what reason you attach to that: leave me one euro, "for old times' sake", a flower, a note, something to let me know that your genetic set has been removed from my planet.

There's a champagne half-liter bottle with your name on it, in my fridge.