Hm. I’m having a few problems with some of these questions, because of my aforementioned reluctance to talk about other people in a bitchy way on my blog.
This one I will do though, because I’ve just thought of the perfect person, and I can’t remember her name, so that gives her anonymity! Also she wasn’t really the one to blame in this situation.
Once upon a time, 11 (ish) year old Shannon was a member of the Feilding Girl Guides. (No judgement please.) I was obsessed with horses, short, frizzy-haired, and my tummy was round with baby fat.
The girls at guides were overwhelmingly nice, but there were a bunch of girls older than me who were tall, sleek and blonde, in a way I’d never been tall, sleek, or blonde. I was instantly cowed into envious silence in front of them.
I can remember sort-of not-really fitting in there, like I sort-of not-really fit into most groups. Not because I’m strange and weird, (and anyway, I prefer to call it quirky,) rather, because I’ve never really figured out how to be successfully social in large groups of people.
I get stage-fright I guess.
Anyway, one of those tall blondes made my life hell. Maybe she didn’t like my too-short tracksuit pants, or maybe she just thought I was weird, but she was nasty. Not outright nasty, because us girls are very, very good at being nasty in a covert way.
I don’t think she ever said anything mean to my face, she just looked at me in a way that made it clear she was mildly disgusted by me. Her tall blonde friends would laugh behind my back, and I’d be pretty damn sure it was about me.
So yeah. In hindsight? She made my life hell, but a lot of that could have been my 11 year-old over-sensitive imagination. Some of it definitely was because she was a nasty piece of work, but really? You kind of have to expect that from teenage girls.
I can remember, years later, bumping into one of her tall blonde friends at a sports day in High School.
She smiled, and looked totally excited to see me, and was all “Hey! we used to do Guides together! I’m (a name I also can’t remember!).”
I smiled, a little unsure, and said “Hey, how’s it going?” I also confessed that I didn’t really remember her.
She said she’d been friends with the nasty blonde and then after a slightly awkward pause, said “She probably wasn’t very nice to you.” Apologetically.
We had a good chat, but I took the first opportunity to slip away, because in those days, even obvious friendly overtures were ignored, because no one that nice, confident, and friendly could POSSIBLY actually want to be friends with me.
Yeah, I wrote people off like this a lot in High School. When I think about it? I was actually kind of a nasty piece of work myself. I mean, if someone goes to the trouble of getting to know me, and I refuse to return the favor, because I’m sure they’re not going to like me… That’s pretty damn presumptuous!
That being said, I did have an amazing close group of friends who got me through high school with their sheer awesomeness. They accepted me for me, and made me feel like an integral part of our weird little amoeba of people. I’m incredibly thankful to them – even though I’m not really in touch with many of them these days.