I was lazily crossing the road where a condom was once thrown at me on my way to pizza, DVDs and possibly something I eventually spun into a blog post at the flat of my friend-who-is-a-teacher when a car with windows that weren't tinted pulled up beside me, evidently wanting to get my attention. Before I could see who was behind the wheel, the window wound down to reveal the Dynamo-like features of someone I'd never expected to see again: my bully from year 7.
"Hey!" he said, cheerfully as if greeting an old friend. "How are you?"
"Hi!" I said, just as cheerfully. "I'm just fine, what are you doing?"
This is the guy who tried to choke me with my own necktie. This is the guy who spread it around the school that I was gay because a boy once sat down on my hand. The guy who told everyone who my crush was, causing more pain and anguish to her than it did to me. He who once compared sex with Britney Spears to spending a week with Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, on whom he appeared to have some sort of psychosexual fixation. The one I should have never, ever, ever told about the causes of my erections.
We eventually bonded over how ridiculous the Warhammer character "Orion, King in the Woods" looked and the fact that we shared a table during GCSE Science, although this is because he was told to find a table with people who are likely to help him and chose the one with three eggheads on it.
In any case, this was not the person I had expected to see driving a car in my neighbourhood.
"Oh, I'm..." He paused, managing to look shifty. "I've just come back from seeing my... girlfriend."
"You've got a girlfriend?"
"Well, she was my... is... was... yeah."
Oh, so she's a fuck buddy? I thought, and from a look at him, I could tell that he was thinking the same thing.
"Good. Well, I expect you'll want to be off..."
"Well, good to see you."
"Yeah, you too." And I felt that he genuinely meant that.
He drove off, with me looking on.
Good to see that he's keeping the end up.