"You're dead after school, Dow!"

[ed_rex]

Back in grades seven and eight, I was bullied in a pretty big way. Death threats (however rhetorical) were a more or less daily occurrence. Elbows in the hall happened regularly, and actual assaults on school property (inside the school itself, more than once) were, if not frequent, were not exactly rare.

And deciding which route to take home was

Comments

[sabotabby]

Ugh.

One of the things with bullying is that, in my experience, very little stops it beyond making it clear to bullies that you're a bigger psycho than they are. I was bullied, by both girls and boys, from grades 4-8. Nothing helped. Ignoring it didn't help. Trying to be friends with them didn't help. Telling the teacher absolutely didn't help.

Ninth grade, some girls tried to fuck with me and I pulled a small scimitar on them, and the bullying stopped for good.

You can't do that as an adult, so I got nothing.

Bad communication, Young Geoffrey! Bad communication!

[ed_rex]

Good lord, I don't know whether I'm glad I didn't have the balls/imagination to pull a scimitar on my thugs or sad. (Come to think of it, I didn't have a scimitar, either.)

But meanwhile ...

You can't do that as an adult, so I got nothing.

Rest assured, I am not being bullied now, only being subject to the rough and tumble joshing common among working class men.

It's actually a sign that I'm liked; a weirdo, but okay to joke with despite that.