Once upon a time there was an incredibly spoilt and beautiful young man I was madly in love with for the last few years of high school and all of college. After four years it all ended very, very badly. Although I had moved to a wet and depressing state with no friends to speak of, he'd stumble into my developing adult life on occasion. We'd either neck madly (he was very good at that; is there anything more delicious?) or I'd be rude and refuse to lend him the tools to fix his skateboard.
Years stretched on. As people with volcanic chemistry mixed with some very harsh feelings, we deliberately kept out of touch.
God, moonlighting as a situation comedy writer, then pulled a fast one.
This fool and I met up again in the most unlikely and awkward circumstances (he was the person ahead of me in the unemployment line). After chatting about nothing he ended the conversation with an eye opening strange comment that took me off guard, successfully closing an absurd situation by neatly yanking the carpet from underneath me. I was shocked but blew off the comment as it had went as well as two disastrous people at an impasse can be expected, meaning I did not actually end up punching him in the face again.
When did the actual cruel intention of what he said hit me? When did I actually understand what a slap in the face that comment was? This morning. Fifteen fucking odd years later. Dang, what an nasty underhanded asshat. Bravo.
Was I young and unbalanced at the time? Medically, yes; but that's no excuse. Has time and perspective corrected for the better? Yep. Am I sorry for the relationship, the time wasted, the situation and the subject of the insult? Nope, not on your life, Sweetness.
Because of this person I eventually gave up three things: the luxury of entitlement, my pleasure of violence, and the indulgence of lying. I have a lot to be thankful for. His gift is one of them.